I've Now Lost My Train of Thought. Maybe Forever.

I'm not gonna lie, this post began as a big fat tantrum. I won't bore with details, but I'm alone in my house until Tuesday, I've got no bender/gambling/hookers money, there's nothing good on TV and no one will answer my calls/texts/emails/IM's.

I was about to drop a "Fine, fuck all y'all" bomb, searched for an appropriate picture and found... this.



Um...

Put aside for a moment the idea of Dennis The Menace giving the finger to a referee or an athlete of some kind. (And I pray he's at some sporting event somewhere, or that this is some too-much-time-on-my-hands Photoshop job^[1]. Because if this his 1st Grade Play or something, I'm probably going to perform some sort of vasectomy on myself as soon as I'm done here.)

What's up with the Certified Muff Diver mudflap insignia on whatever jersey that is he's wearing?

Wait...

Wait...

Wait a little more...

Yeah, I want one. Surely this jersey wasn't just for kids, right?
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[1]And Steve Barron, I'm talking to you.

Coming Soon to An Uncrowded Bar Near You

A cover band, true, but one that will never^[1] play Freebird. We will totally play The Ballad Of Curtis Loew, though.

Stay tuned. And watch for the inevitable MySpace debut.



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[1]Never as in, "Probably never. Any place that would book us doesn't have near enough money."

Here's To Getting Things DONE.

Yeah.

Things are finished. Accomplishment. Endgame.

Pardon me while I sigh, fat and fulfilled.

Love me, love me, say that you love me.