Good times… one of my oldest Butch buddies came over tonight. We grilled PERFECT ribeyes bigg’rn my Chihuahua and pondered how all we are is dust in the wind and just a drop of water in an endless sea and shiat like that. Now I am watching “Design on a Dime” and thinking that tacky crap shure looks like “design on two pennies and a coupon”. Hellll.
 BANGYER HEAD!! I want to cruise around in this bad ride, except I would put flames on it, course. |
 I mostly dress like Dog the Bounty Hunter, but without all that hairspray or those muscles… and way (WAY) bigger pants.
No mid-life crisis here. I am pretty much the same as I was as 12, 22, 32… |
 Follow the twists if ya can…from pool hall speak to garden party fashion… .
If I were trying to save the economy of my country as a more purpose-driven consumer, I would get this ridiculously cute Chanel tank dress for Wheeze. So sad a tiny princess has no summer outfits! |
Hee hee hee.
Since she is just getting over a cold, Christine’s ears are all stopped up. Tonight we are quietly working back to back on our computers like we often do. Without even turning around, Christine keeps popping off every few minutes with, “What!?” So I say, “Baby, I din’t say nuthin’! Yer trippin’.” And then she mumbles, “Humph. I know you are sayin stuph over there.”
Now… if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, we wonder — does it make a sound? So the question tonight is, if you chuckle at your wife and she can’t hear you… should you write about it on the internet? Guess I’ll find out when she reads this. 
Chris had just told me our water bill was like $250. We were going to call the water company and tell them they needed to re-read the meter. We rarely go into our guest bathroom, so I was surprised the last few times I went in there because the floor seemed RILLY sloopy slopey in a way that didn’t seem familar. I also heard this gurgling coming from under the tub a few days ago and thought… huh… that old drain must be getting clogged again. Then the other night, I was realized with dread this “gurgling” was the sound of water RUSHING fast under the floor, splashing into a pool under the house!!!
Well, the water main has been shut off since Friday night and I filed a claim with the insurance today. No telling how long that broken pipe has been gushing, but the resulting mud rising against the wooden piers and subfloor will have to be excavated before plumbers can even fix the plumbing. The first plumber company we called could not find a man small enough to even crawl under there. I am sure those old piers are rotting in all that standing water, and mold will grow on the subfloor. Either I am about to stretch a fat, fat, fat check for my kitchen remodel, or I am fixina cry, cry, cry.
Chris somehow thinks this incident is my fault since I was the one who wanted to buy a house. Would one of you homeowners please assure my dear wife these things happen and it is going to be ok???
I have been outside painting and hauling stuff all afternoon and I RILLY need to at least wash my hands. Good thang I have a friend with a swank new apartment cuz I might have to sneak over there to take a fucking shower! LOL
Shame. Shame.
A winning baseball coach at a prestigious South Florida private prep school resigned Wednesday after students said he whipped out ol’ one-eye during a motivational speech. According to a Coral Gables police report, Couch Collazo flopped out his dick and balls, and then pointed to them asked the team if they “had a set of these” or were they “equipped with a vagina”.
Penis envy? Penis pity. Pfft.
Read article: http://www.local10.com/news/4537548/detail.html
Our hallway is haunted.
It is a very decent hallway, wide with high ceilings and a shining wood floor, but unconsciously, even Chris and I will circle through the whole dining room and living room just to avoid going down the hallway. It feels …. oh, I dunno… unsettling and unfavorable somehow.
To make sure the foreboding corridor was well-lit, I put new hanging fixtures down the length of it. Painted the hall a fresh, bright color. I put up picture moldings. I installed a handsome chest, a tapestry and sconces in the nook off to the right. Yet the long passageway still feels somehow contrary to the rest of the cottage — neither charming nor warm, and not welcoming at all. No. Not welcoming at all.
Children have never lived in this home, and I think queers have always resided here. Our Tudor is over 80 years old, built for one of the first female professors at SMU. She lived alone. Then two gay men lived here for many decades until they both died of AIDS. The neighbors mourn them still, and several have said it was the goal of this gay couple to finish remodeling before they died. They did a real bang-up job, but I think one of them still walks down my hallway.
When you sleep in our guest room, at approximately 7:30 every morning your eyes will suddenly open as you hear four rather ungraceful but definitely purposeful steps down our hall. If you are already awake, you will also hear it. Always four steps. Always the same gait. Always the same time. All of our overnight friends have witnessed this. In the morning, sometimes folks will ask Christine if she was up early. I won’t name names, but these footsteps have frighten more than one guest right out of bed and into other rooms far away from that corridor. Never having heard the story, even Christine’s 80 year-old grandmother asked about the footsteps a few weeks ago. Tiny grandma heard four heavy paces passing her door at 7:30 every morning while she was here. Braver than most, she looked down the hall and saw no one there.
While I don’t care for that hallway, the sound of steps does not scare me nor make me particularly uneasy. I just think it is an odd, quirky thing inherent to an old house, like the way our closet doors stick in the winter.
Four things I learned over coffee this morning… and I read it on the internet, so you know its true.
Our bibilical ancestors used to lay their hands on their balls to swear, and that is how we got words like “testify” and “testament”.
The Golden Gate Bridge is the hottest spot for suicides. Most people put their suicide note in a ziploc and put it in their pockets. The ultimate at our house is to swear on our pets - i.e.: “I swear on Wheezie.”
2 million people have emphysema from smoking. You don’t know you have it until about 30-40% of your lungs are destroyed. There is no cure, and you usually die when a common cold turns into pnuemonia. (And hyprochondriacs like me should NOT read medical stuff on the internet!)
Worms taste like fried bacon. (!) There was one in my coffee. (Just kidding.)
If they didn’t add the caramel coloring, Coke would be a nasty shade of green.
