Saturday, June 28, 2008

It was still September
When your daddy was quite surprised
To find you with the working girls in the county jail

ed. note- this post has been edited since I first put it up, which I do not usually do. I added some pictures, and the narrative is a little jangled.

I know y'all are gettin' tired a readin all them wurds. Books are fer queers, ennyways. So ah hope ya like the pitchers.

Hi, everyone.

I have been busy being a good friend.

I took a half day Friday and helped Stanette's friend, Jill, move. We went back this morning again and helped some more.

After that, we went shopping for some stuff we need at the new house. Barstools, media center, all that. Shit's expensive, dudes. Take it from me- don't move, don't remodel, avoid granite, deal with your plastic shower... it creeps from a little bit to a lot.

Suddenly, you find yourself looking at fucking Balinese furniture in Pier One on a beautiful Saturday, asking, "What the fuck?"

I kid, I kid.

Next, we went to Super Wal Mart. Why, you ask?

Oh, wait.

My Pakistani friend (and lead guitarist in The Mitten), Omar, is getting his citizenship. He was fingerprinted last week, and he has to take an exam.

We decided to get him some American-style gifts. What better place than Wal-Mart?

We got him Dale Earnhart #3 zuba pants, a t-shirt that, I shit you not, has the Statue of Liberty riding a Harley Chopper with ape-hanger handlebars, stars on the fender, stripes on the gas tank... and it reads, "RIDE ON FREEDOM."

^That's the shirt, by the by.





I am pretty sure that is the imprint of an eagle on the forehead of the skull, which is resting on eagle's (or angel's) wings, roses and a red-white-and-blue guitar. Totally badass.

Since 1776.

Don't worry, I got one of each of these shirts for myself, too, even though they were made in one of Kathy Lee Gifford's sweatshops.

Fuck it. They were 2 for $ 9. Who could pass up that deal?

Not me.

You gotta spend to save.

^^Ahsa's little booty.

(In case you forgot how I looked, scroll up... I'll wait. Check it.

Handsome devil.)

*ed. note- had to leave that parenthetical in; it's too good for the cutting floor. Thank you, ed. out.

Additionally, we got him some Cheez-Wiz, a "self-waving flag," that when you push the button, it plays the national anthem and ripples. Gorgeous. Cooler that the singing trout.


It does, dude. You can deny it if you want.

Go ahead, recycle your cardboard, drive your Prius, be green. Move to Canada for all I care.

You'll still crave an Egg McMuffin.

I'll be burning tires and shooting guns in my backyard, with nary a care for future generations. Fuck 'em. I don't have kids. It's somebody else's problem.

You're gonna have to talk to my manager.

Oh, yeah... also, we got Omar a twelve pack of Budweiser cans (it's the king of beers, yo), iced them and put them in a styrofoam cooler... and we got him a NASCAR hat with flames on the bill.

He laughed his tiny brown ass off.

Stay tuned. Pictures at 11.

I'm out.

I can't wait for the olympics. We're gonna go to China and kick some serious fucking ass.

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No static at all

It is a gorgeous damn day here in Montana.

Intense blue skies, wispy angel clouds, breezy green grasses and snow-capped peaks.

The kind of day that makes you feel really small and grateful for the lovely life you lead.