"Honnnnnkey Tonk WIMMMIN!!!"

Where am I again?

Oh, that’s right- Work. On Saturday. Balls.

So I get home last night to my stereo buh-LASTING "Honky-Tonk Women" by the Stones. Tex comes rushing upstairs from doing his laundry (sidebar: This guy had all of his laundry-which was a goodly amount- in small mounds in my basement. I called it "Tide-Henge". And when I say "rushing", you need to realize that there are no slow calculated steps with the Jellybean, BAMF and he was back upstairs.)

"Is the music too loud? Please tell me if it is."

So I started dancing.

"Mick-Style".

"Move w/me Jellybean…come on, move around a little bit…HELP me."

Nothing like deprogramming after a 10 hour day with a little Jagger induced groovin’.


In other news/frass: I succeeded in wedging my comforter and quilt in the laundry chute. It is stuck midway between upstairs and basement jussssst out of reach of fingers and jusssst out of reach of "pokables" which could hopefully loosen it up. In a stroke of genius, I decided to drop dumbbells on top of the mess in order to loosen it up. (Hey, it worked the last time things got gummed up). The current tally, with (hmmmm, 1-2-3) approximately 35 lbs worth of dumbbell resting on top of it: Winner- sheets.

Since I have no other down comforter or quilt in my possession, I was forced to commandeer the Scottish wool blanket I bought in Salisbury (A little scratchy, but it’ll do in a pinch) and also the chintzy chenille throw from the TV room. Yeah. Coooooomfy nights sleep.

I like a little weight on top of me when I’m in bed…knowwhutI’msayinmuskrats?

And yeah…I stayed out past bedtime AGAIN. After checking out the damage on Dora’s munched car (At least the windows are in tact) I darted past a group from the bah last night w/o even recognizing a single one of them (Single of purpose, I am: I’m tired. I’m cold. I want bed. Hey wait, where’s the frassin’ comforter?)

So, needless to say, it’s another typical day in paradise. I’m in the burbs. Printing off directions from an Evite. And thinking about what time I should bail out of here to get to South Mipples for an audition.

And a nap. This full moon/best behaviour bit is really exhausting the crap out of me.


Soundbite du jour: (Taken from the bar die letzte nacht)

"Countdown to speculation in Five, Four, Three, Two, One..."