Bit o' This, Bit o' That. You Didn't Really Think I Was Going Anywhere?

I got a frantic call from Trashman (whom I love more with each passing second) last night asking if I was really quitting blogging. The answer is "hell no." Why would I quit something that saps my energy and creative powers and keeps me from accomplishing anything remotely useful? If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd say it was all a plot by the commies to slow down production.

Actually, blogging keeps me sane. It forces me to sit down, organize my thoughts, and develop my arguments. And where else do I have that I can chronicle the Gwennie and Emma funnies? I'm wretched at keeping up their baby books.

So no, I'm not quitting. Although if I were trying to change the world, I might. But I'm not. I'm simply chronicling my thoughts on various current events and life situations.

So on with the mundanity!

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I have discovered that clothes are more damaging to my self esteem than nudity. If I'm standing in front of the mirror completely stark, I'm thinking, "Great ass, horrid thighs, rib cage seems really out there, breathtaking tits, could stand to lose a few, but not too bad overall. I'm kind of digging my long hair. It makes me look less dykish even if I do look exactly like my uncles did in the 70s."

If I'm standing in front of the mirror fully clothed, I'm thinking, "You look like you are about to go dumpster diving. And you could probably stand to dress it up. You never know when you'll run into a homeless dude with vomit on his shoes."

I get so depressed watching anything regarding fashion. That ennervating program, "What Not To Wear" is enough to send me out for dark chocolate and bacon.

I just have a body type that is difficult to clothe. I've come to accept that, so I put a whole lot more effort into Other Things. I'm just really happy I'm no longer in the phase where it actually meant something to me, although fortunately, that was during the grunge period, and I was extremely fashionable. I had a plaid shirt collection to rival any lumberjack.

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We went fishing last Saturday with our friends Benton and Shauna. Benton, Shauna and Jethro caught some nice sand trout. Gwennie cast her whole fishing pole into the water, which upset Emma so much that she gave her own fishing pole to Gwennie, saying through her tears, "I want my sister to have a fishing pole." Sometimes you just want to buy that kid a pony.

Gwennie was hysterical though. She was completely shocked, but she didn't cry. She said, "What am I going to do? That fishing pole was very special and I know we can't afford another one."

I teach them well don't I? So well that they each got a new fishing pole. Gwennie because she lost hers, and Emma because she was so sweet about it. But these float, so it wasn't just to spoil them.

As for me, I wasn't in the mood to hold a fishing pole, so I just drank and fucked with some jellyfish with a kite string and a turkey neck. I had a good time except for having to use a port-o-let which I utterly befouled in my panic of snakes lurking in the gloom below.

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Have a great weekend y'all. See you on the other side and if you have time, check out Jethro's blog. He found some absolutely gut-busting parodies of "Brokeback Mountain." "Brokeback to the Future" was my favorite.