Sorry. Nothing has happened in the past few days that has angered me, amused me, surprised me, or presented itself as an easy source of jokes to me enough to blog about. As soon as the condition changes, more sparsely read posts will be popping up here like shady ads on a Hungarian porn site.
Or maybe I'll just change the blog into a shady Hungarian porn site.
Hm.
COMING SOON: HOTS-CAKES! GABOR-GY!!! Zsa Zsa, Eva, and Magda compare accents in a pictorial feature that puts the "ooh" back in "goulash" -- and throws a "guh" and a "laash" in for free! We're not in Hootersville anymore, dahling!!!
6 comments:
Well, this IS the 4th (is that possible?) anniversary of GBV in Minneapolis-gate...I was considering my own post about it, but I'm down a different, no less bloody, memory lane. However, perhaps Stronger Than Dirt Pete Moss is stronger than me...
Wow. Four years. That's good in a way, considering that a couple times that night I was afraid I wasn't going to live to see another morning. Although I'm known to be on the skittish side, so you can't really go by that. But the story does have many of the elements of ... a story: violence, death (John Entwistle's), violence, near-death (KC's), booze, violence. A huge plastic orange cow in Wisconsin. Buckets of remorse. Lots and lots, that's for sure. But for now, I gotta work. Eight or nine hours in the future, I should be drinking beer and working thru the tale, though.
I think this tale has just found its teller.
And its penn, even. Anyway, I'm gonna give it a whirl. While holding several sweaty 22 oz. bottles of beer. Glass ones. I kind of told Kev I wouldn't mock his forehead, but I might have to break that promise. We'll see.
By the way, Feral Mom, I have been loving your series of posts this week. Very beautiful.
Is Kev reading this? Call me, Kev!
And thanks for the kind words, STDPM.
Very welcome.
Kev will probably only read this if I email him a request to do so (which I will). But that's Kev. One of those several people I can only get to read me via specific begging. Poor me. Hah!
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