Text Messages from the Damned -- IMs During a Rather Difficult Day in the Pixel Mines
me: we need to take a vaca from our life
Jen: starting NOW
me: Starting right after we got back from Iceland. Bob, Oni and our herd of cat should have come over. We could all live at the Blue Lagoon with occasional trips into Reykjavik for the odd epic novel from Eymundsson's.
Jen: Ohhhhh, beautiful idea!!!! Yeh, the occasional trip for books and people watching!
An aside -- having nekked and near nekked folks floating about us in the Lagoon all day isn’t enough? There's just no satisfying some people. Hmmmmph!
me: they'd have to deliver gourmet wasabi peas out to us in the lagoon along with some pinot noir.
Jen: yeh, and we'll smear 'em all over our face and douse our hair with the vino cuz it's all healthy and shit.
me: eggzactly!
Jen: we, obviously, are made of Perma-Spa People stuff. We are spa professionals!
me: pass the pumice stone and seaweed moisturizer plz. oh and don't bogart that joint, bitch.
Jen: just as soon as I wash off this full body mud rub and pound another mineral water, ho.
me: and order up anotha round of peas and pinot noir while yur up, twatzilla
Our conversations always devolve/evolve (depends on your perspective, eh) like this.
___________________________________________________________________
The Oldest Established (Permanent Floating Post Work Drinkie In Quincy) (with mega apologies to Frank Loesser)
What we’ve found, since moving to Quincy, is that, no matter where we go, even if it’s just once or twice, we see many of the same faces. Apparently this habit, this migratory pub custom, as well as our tastes in said adult bev emporiums, is the done thing. I LOVE this! There’s probably a club somewhere (with dues!) and this isn’t all kismet and happy coincidence. It’s Wednesday so this is Imperial Terrace evening. Tuesday is Frog and Peach and Thursday we hit Louis. Of course.
Eh, I’m going with the kismet thing.
___________________________________________________________________
While at the Imperial Terrace the news was playing. Sound off, no closed captioning. Naturally we found the need to narrate.
There was a pic, a series of shots, of a big dog sitting on top of a big two car garage. The dog is just sitting, then standing and focusing seriously on...on what? Probably the lame ass camera crew who are so desperate for a puff piece, they probably put Bowser up there themselves.
So then, there’s no real, honest to Kali news going on? This is a fairly large urban area and we get dog on roof stories?
Maybe this is why I woke at 1 AM with this tune playing on the internal juke box?
The Only Living Boy In New York -- Paul Simon
Jen: starting NOW
me: Starting right after we got back from Iceland. Bob, Oni and our herd of cat should have come over. We could all live at the Blue Lagoon with occasional trips into Reykjavik for the odd epic novel from Eymundsson's.
Jen: Ohhhhh, beautiful idea!!!! Yeh, the occasional trip for books and people watching!
An aside -- having nekked and near nekked folks floating about us in the Lagoon all day isn’t enough? There's just no satisfying some people. Hmmmmph!
me: they'd have to deliver gourmet wasabi peas out to us in the lagoon along with some pinot noir.
 |
| peas and lava |
Jen: yeh, and we'll smear 'em all over our face and douse our hair with the vino cuz it's all healthy and shit.
me: eggzactly!
Jen: we, obviously, are made of Perma-Spa People stuff. We are spa professionals!
me: pass the pumice stone and seaweed moisturizer plz. oh and don't bogart that joint, bitch.
Jen: just as soon as I wash off this full body mud rub and pound another mineral water, ho.
me: and order up anotha round of peas and pinot noir while yur up, twatzilla
Our conversations always devolve/evolve (depends on your perspective, eh) like this.
___________________________________________________________________
The Oldest Established (Permanent Floating Post Work Drinkie In Quincy) (with mega apologies to Frank Loesser)
It's the oldest established permanent floating post work drinkie In Quinzy.Jen and I like to stop for one on our way home. We disentangle from the pretzeling of the day, we kvetch, we release our dreary worn out spirits and then we come home, more human, to our much loved cats and menfolk.
Where's the action? Where's the martini?
Gotta have the grog or we'll die from shame.
It's the oldest established permanent floating Post Work Drinkie In Quinzy
What we’ve found, since moving to Quincy, is that, no matter where we go, even if it’s just once or twice, we see many of the same faces. Apparently this habit, this migratory pub custom, as well as our tastes in said adult bev emporiums, is the done thing. I LOVE this! There’s probably a club somewhere (with dues!) and this isn’t all kismet and happy coincidence. It’s Wednesday so this is Imperial Terrace evening. Tuesday is Frog and Peach and Thursday we hit Louis. Of course.
Eh, I’m going with the kismet thing.
___________________________________________________________________
While at the Imperial Terrace the news was playing. Sound off, no closed captioning. Naturally we found the need to narrate.
There was a pic, a series of shots, of a big dog sitting on top of a big two car garage. The dog is just sitting, then standing and focusing seriously on...on what? Probably the lame ass camera crew who are so desperate for a puff piece, they probably put Bowser up there themselves.
So then, there’s no real, honest to Kali news going on? This is a fairly large urban area and we get dog on roof stories?
Maybe this is why I woke at 1 AM with this tune playing on the internal juke box?
The Only Living Boy In New York -- Paul Simon
No comments:
Post a Comment