Well, this was interesting…

‘Kay, you gotta go here with me, ‘cause it’s too funny to pass up:

I got the shit outta the chute. Wait, back up.

After work, I auditioned for "Hmong!: The Musical" (Kidding, "The CIA’s secret army") I headed out to the Pillsbury ‘Ouse Teatro’ for the general call, annnnd lemme tellya. That building smelled like a$$. Seriously, I think the septic system backed up. Nothing like waiting your turn in the truck stop terlet.

I get home BOUND and determined to get those frassin’ sheets outta the hamper. After many, MANY attempts (And a cocktail. It was stressing me out) I stood down in the basement w/Tex and almost considered breaking the fucking chute apart with my bare hands. Froostrated.

"Gosh, you need a crook or something". "Hey, thanks Tex. Lemme go ask the shepard tending his flock in the back yard if I can borrow his."

Tex Shrugged.

P proceeds to fashion a crook out of a wire coat hanger and 7 foot dowel rod.

I got it out. And didn’t become a recipient of a "Darwin Award" from the dumbbells bopping me on the bean. What was the final cost, you might ask? Well, my down comforter is shot. (Duvet cover wouldn’t save that poor bitch.) The weights did indeed come a-crashing down (Along with a hammer and bottle of shower spray. Hey, I was getting frustrated) and they proceeded to smash out the bottom of the laundry chute. My 12 lbs dumbbell are now 2 six’ers…yeah.
I got my quilt back though. 2.5 hours that took me. Wasted my entire day, dammit.


I met Ry-Gonn later for trivia at Billy’s early in the evening. (Our table won, with precious little contribution by yours truly. Those guys are fanatical) Irony of Ironies, the bounty for our victory was 2 tickets to TRP. Fah-Knee.

I headed back home to grab some shut-eye b4 checking out SF’s party. What was pretty funny is I get back from the bar ‘round 9pm. Dorajar was picking me up after her show, so I’m thinking I’ll grab at least a 20 minute power nap.

I was awoke at 11pm, with a phone call saying that she was on her way. Ummm, damn. That was a powerful nap.

SF’s party was a hoot. I ate my weight in bird and shrimp (I took in no where NEAR Carlton sized portions of shrimp. It was that damn spicy cocktail sauce that was the bane of my existence) And funny thing, I didn’t drink nearly as much as I would have thought. And I wound up staying WAAAAAY too late (5am anybody?) Which, methinks, the power nap attributed to. And all that protein gave me a delightful case of indigestion, which made for some FOULED up dreams.

Sonntag, we headed out to brefkissed with Melinite and her hubby. ("Dare me to go 90 on the Linus statue?") Deeeeelicious eggs were mowed at the Uptown, and a lot of laughing was done. (Things could not have been funnier. But it’s amazing what 2.5 hours of sleep will do to your sense of humor.) Upon returning home, I tried taking a nap but having the equivalent of a gallon of java flowing through my veins, it was pretty much a non-issue. So, Projects. (TV room DONE!) And more projects. And some more burning of found items best forgotten. And then callbacks for "Haaaaay Fevah". And then dinner with new friends. Fritata and collards, btw. Grubbin'.

Awesome blossom. Good times.

I’m back to being boo-too tired. And anxiously awaiting some frassin’ phone calls.