What does one do when one awakens to a beautiful, sunny New York day in a King Kong-sized rage?
If one finds oneself walking on the way home from getting coffee (which one does not need while in a King Kong rage), one may imagine picking up a digging bulldozer and throwing it at another digging bulldozer.
And when a friendly Workman waves and offers, "How do you like this lovely summer weather we're having?"
One replies, "It will be gone tomorrow."
At the disappointment of this cruel fact, along with the persistant King Kong rage, one may be driven to a manic "seems like Spring" apartment clean.
Perhaps one is tempted to buy a new-and-improved cleaning product to feed the beast, yet one has a full bottle of Pine-Sol already.
Yet the King Kong rage drives one to consume still--to buy groceries--to make pate!
O great Lords Of The Abyss! Readers! I did not post an entry on Saturday as I was too busy drinking Co Co Reef and rapping Ludacris' "Number One Spot" at the local Karaoke hole.
Have mercy on this Wench! I have wronged you. But I did not buy a new-and-improved cleaning product today.
15 comments:
I love you.
hello :)
If it's new, how can it be improved?
its improved, thus making it NEW. as in a new recipie... whatev
Alicia:
Your blog is linked from TWoP, so readership will now increase exponentially. (And discussion will forever rage about plot and character inconsistencies on Roseanne.)
You rocked that SVU and when I saw Boys Don't Cry my first reaction was "I know that girl," because I'm a little slow on the uptake. But in fact we met a long, long time ago at a dumb punk garage party in Chicago and talked at great length about colleges. Good times. (Back in the day, we had some mutual friends.)
Dude, I think the guy with the initials is creepy into you. Blogs are weird.
Thank you for your comment.
While it is not a terrible thing that "readership will now increase exponentially," thanks to TWoP--whatever that is, I certainly have limited response-ability as far as the discussion of "plot and character inconsistencies on Roseanne" is concerned.
Ah, those days of the dumb punk garage parties in Chicago. Good times indeed.
Where did my pink hair and those old green Doc Martins go...
I love you, too, anonymous.
Sorry--didn't mean you had to discuss plot and character inconsistencies, just that the discussion is endless at TWoP, which is Television Without Pity (dot-com).
Yo yo-
I've been keeping up with your blog almost daily. Its fun to read a new one each day. I realize how incredibly creative you are- a little complex- silly-how unique you are. I like what you did with the boxers- reminds me of our witness writing. I feel a bit more connected knowing what you are thinking each day. Sorry about this mornings rage. Sometimes I wish I was there on the street to meet and greet and shoot the shit.
xxoo Jean
PS- Baby J put a stuffed animal monkey in his pocket the other day that he got at the ER after cutting his thumb open on a plate. I sang that song to him- "I'm sorry to day I've got a monkey in my pocket today"... needless to say it made him feel better.
Sister Jean. Perhaps you can come with Baby J. Dude to meet and greet and shoot the shit on the street sometime.
Mad love to the fam.
Maybe you're sick of hearing comments such as this one, but Roseanne was a huge part of my life. I even did a major project in one of my college classes on the show's impact on society.
Wow, I realize now that I probably didn't deserve the A that I got in that class. In any case, you are a part of my childhood, for better or for worse, so thanks!
Hi Lecy,
Love your site, some of your stuff is out there, but still funny. What are you working on lately?
Oh Yeah! Jennifer is way wrong!!
That guy isn't creepy, he's probably dead! There aren't any real men out there like that. Sounds like he's from the Canterbury Tales. Are you kidding me:
My Thoughts, leave you not, whilst I'm awake
Thy presence in my mind, allows not, sleep
If you don't want this one, send him my way!
Later
shutup Shannon, the guys a total fag. thy thee thou kisseth my ass.
Lecy, how about me?????
Im a poet...
There once was a gurl from Nantucket
Don't worry: I'm sure there's a dead fag out of the Canterbury Tales out there for everyone.
I love that poem!
There once was a girl from Nantucket,
Who got her foot stuck in a bucket,
When along came a band,
She struggled to stand,
As they blew a melodious tucket.
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