mother's revenge

This conversation (verbal altercation?) took place between two boys this morning:

x: Egypt!

y: Africa!

x: Egypt!

y: In Africa!

x: EGYPT!

y: Which is in AFRICA!

x: (pauses) WHAT THE HELL?!

y: Are you f***ing retarded?

x: (pauses thoughtfully) Are you telling me EGYPT is in AFRICA?

y: Africa is a continent, dumb*ss.

x: Are you f***ing kidding me?

y: No.

x: (remains speechless, with a jaw-dropped facial expression mixed with anger, surprise, and incredulousness)

phat tuesday.

is there anything sweeter than a baby lamby with white wool and black legs?




they are so dear.




i'm giving up sugar for lent. but not sweetness. oh! those little lambs!


lupe and stella are jealous of little lambies because these cats are evil.

this side of provo.

someone, a man, outside, in a grit growly voice, just yelled, loudly, "everybody lock up your daughters and wives 'cause i'm hitting the town tonight!"

me gusta el barrio mio.

this morning i ran out of gas. no metaphor here. in the middlest lane of university avenue almost to the intersection of foothill drive. i guess i should say that little fat boy ran out of fossil fuels, not me, really.

i immediately phreeked out a little.

a gentle sir in a nice truck stopped and waited with me to push fatty out of the middle of traffic.

another gentle young sir wanted to help push. we tried, but without power steering, it was a lost cause.

at the moment of slight despair, a huge blue (that very lovely bright blue) truck pulled up in the turn lane next to fatty, window rolled down. a wild-red-headed-and-bearded man asked me what i needed.

i needed gas.

he parked the car in the turn lane, told the honkers to shut the f*** up, and proceeded to fill my tank with just enough gas to get me to work only 5 minutes late.

the sir in the first car followed me to heritage (he works at scenic view).

what tender souls of altruism and kindness!

the idiot in me thought there was at least one more little trip of gas in fatty's belly. incorrect! this has happened enough times that i have learned that i don't learn my lesson. test me.

but what tender people were to be found on university ave this morning! and i'm not talking about npr reporters alone!

and least of all my dad, who jumped in his truck to get fat boy some fuel. he's the best.

people are born every few two hundred years

happy birthday! 200 is the new 50!

i wished my class happy chuck and abe day. one of the girls looked at me, not only like i was crazy, but completely perplexed, "what is chuck an egg day?"

happy chuck and abe day.
happy chuck an egg day.

ps only a dreamboat like abe can pull off hair like that. abnormazing. and striking. i'll bet he didn't even use that much product. maybe a can of bearwax?

last night.

i was in a bad/evil mood.

sue me.

jk.

i'm sorry, i love you, world.

an ode to an ode.

anode to anode.

mmmmmmmmk.

i saw the delta spirit at urban lounge in salt lake on tuesday.

it was perfect.

i was cut in line at walgreens while waiting to buy a bag of goldfish crackers that i didn't want but felt compelled to buy because we were going to park in their parking lot. but, i am not passive and guilt-stricken!

we ate at slouvaki, a greek place; a gyro. geez it was good.

we saw an enjoyable local band! the furs! of salt lake city. wild west suburban psychedelic jammage.

and the delta spirit! ode to these boys! this is grindy grubby bluesy grit americana at its best! matthew vasquez has a voice that rasps out the final breath over and again. they started out with strange vine and people c'mon. i love the music through speakers, so nice. but the throbbing reverb of the sternum is payment and repayment. the atmosphere was light and happy and breezy and we were like good friends, weren't we?

we didn't get home til late late late (early?), and i was so tired the next day.

songs we never wrote
seeds they wouldn’t sow
we’re taking it all to the end
and we’re planting our own garden

my iron knee

running 2 miles is suddenly an accomplishment.

i am really losing patience with this *$#@'d knee.

i'm doing it, again.

again i find myself slowing down toward the end of my book. i hate finishing good books, a conundrum.

the head was mine, but not to use, not to think with, only to remember and not too much remember.
ernest hemingway
a farewell to arms

i like having time to read. glory be.

curse borders for it's seductive 30% off coupons. times is hard, but i'm still spending my monies on books.