8/30/05: Back in the Saddle

Prime Minister Pete Nice spent two strong days on the mic, and we intend to pass it back to him in the near future, but for now I'm gonna bust a few low-grade rhymes of my own. Thanks Pete.

However, I don't have much right now. Especially not compared to that fine cohesive post from pb dot c. It felt good to have him back in the house.

What I do have for you is several quick hitters. Bungle Bits, if you will...

***

I was talking to a very wise friend who shall remain nameless on the phone the other day, and he mentioned that he was concerned about his well-being because one of his recent stools had been a phosphorescent mélange of blue and green. He then related that he had consumed some Grape Gatorade prior to said stool.

I was like, Doooood, you're kidding, right? You don't know about the Power of the Grape?

He was like, Whattaya mean?

I was like, Dude, any artificial grape beverage -- Grape Gatorade, Grape Koolaid, Grape Drink from Ray's Pizza, IGA brand Grapeade from Capitol Centre Foods in Madison, Wisconsin, whatever -- will absolutely turn your shit a beautiful bright green every damn time. My friends and I used to experiment with this phenomenon back in college. Not sure if it's the artificial grape flavor that does it, or if it's the deep purple food coloring, but it's very special whatever it is.

He was like, wow that's a relief. Nothing's wrong with me.

I was all, not at all, amigo. Not at all. Ride it out and try to enjoy it.

So for the rest of you out there, now you know.

***

So we had our dinner with the neighbors and it was, well.....really fun! I am such a dick for being apprehensive about it. These neighbors are really nice, normal people. When I first have a meal with someone, I am always relieved when a few things happen:

-the people swear freely
-they drink, and/or refer to drunkenness
-they make you delicious food
-they don't say Grace*

These folks nailed it in every category.  Just fine people who I would be lucky to count as friends. I take back all my misanthropic misgivings. I was a tool and I need to take Madonna's advice and open my heart a li'l bit.

***

I am including the rather unattractive fish photo at left because of the look of abject terror on the face of that one fish in the middle, the one with his tongue hanging out. When it comes to his attitude towards death, that fish is my kindred spirit. It looks like all his buddies went out with dignity and acceptance once they realized the game was over, but not Freddie there in the center. He was like, Holy Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!  I'm GONNA DIIIIIIIIE! I can't believe this! This is awful! Please help me! I was just trying to nourish my little fish belly with some tasty worm action, and now I'm flopping around on this dock gasping for life. I hate you, HUMAN BASTARDS. If you're going to eat me, you're going to stare at my contorted, anguished mug to remind you that I once had life. I once swam gracefully beneath the sea, not bothering you or any of your family. Now I am dead. I DO NOT WANT TO DIE. Dig in, you fuckers.

***

You know what's a really good word? Pooch. I wish it had a really cool meaning -- I would use that shit all the time. From now on, I shall refer to my scrotum as my pooch. Or, more formally, my Trusty Pooch. Please join me in this campaign. Thanks.

* I am not opposed to saying Grace, or to being thankful to your God for the food you get to consume, but I think it's weird to do it in front of strangers whose religious beliefs you do not know.