Checking In

Pretty dead around here these days.

Either everyone has stopped drinking, or people have started drinking too much.

So I drank just the right amount (Thanks Goldilocks), and here I am.

What is everyone up to these days? Jesse? Daav?

And where are the wimmins? Sarsh? Jager Bombshell?

*Sigh.

I miss my peeps.

 

3:09 AM, Saturday August whatev

As the date suggests, this one is from the archives.  We were entrusted to post this on behalf of (then) new blogger, Paris, and… well, it looks like we can be entrusted with any task so long as you don’t mind us taking five months getting around to it. 

- Daav

 just returned home from a lovely evening with Paris and George.

(I hope bakspaces are permitted on wasted time, otherwise even my normal
typing would come out illiterate.)

We had a great time; George and I hung out and talked, and Paris hid
underneath the table (it was raining, he is contraband) and enjoyed the
occassional misdirected nacho chip.   Also Japanese girls who are berserk
about standard poodles.  Reason enough to get a standard poodle, in some
circles – Japanese girls are your instand BFF.  We ate some yukky nachos
and drank some delicious beer at the Future bakery.

rumour has it that the future family is extreme right wing nutjobs, but I
can’t believe that – would Nazis make mushroom gravy, suitable to
begetarians?  NO.. (ignore, for the momemnt, that HItler was a vegetarian
- in fact, remove it from your memory banks altogether).  I think they
must be very nice to wish something as lovely as gravy on their vegetarian
peeps.

We had a nice visit, George and I, gossiping and discussing the finer
points of zombie films.  Apparently, zombies eat brains b/c it acts as an
analgesic (ahem.  painkillre) to destract from the discomfort of decaying
mortal beings.  an interesting theory… though why shooting zombies in
the head kills them is still a mystery to me.  Zombie movies, period.  not
scary.

what else did we talk about?  Andy Warhol and Chris Gardiner and David
Miller.  and driving.  George does it, often tiredly, and I never do it at
all.  Though I am curious about mopeds.  If I can’t have a Trebbie, I
might as well have a scooter.

Paris tried to dig a hole to China via a local park on the way home.  He
was unsuccessful in his digging.  Was successful in negating this
morning’s bath.  They never seem to last very long.  Baths are a waste of
time.