LE PETIT COCHON

4 inches into 2009 and i had to squeeze into da wellies to wet vac the last three days up. mop n glo, next phase. i decided to erase my last 3 blogs due to the lack of effort and thought. all the glitter wore off. 10 days without a smoke and or a drink fucks with your head. MAJOR. mrs. jack daniels and the marlboro man are holding the strings and i am flopping around the cardboard stage forgetting my lines and my dance moves are weak. sorry, debbie allen. i will get it down before jan 20th. i promise. i also promise to use promise on my toast every morning. better health in 2009. CHECK.
rum cake. sour cream coffee cake. soft center chocolates. ruffle chips and dip. hummus and bagel chips. swiss colony chocolate covered toffee. chicken salad sandwiches. potato skins. do i need to go on? do you get my point? really?
could not be a better time to join the susan g komen race for the cure again. thank god. i officially start training for that on tuesday. future blog teaser.
JLC unveiled his latest vacation plans over sheppards pie, calves livers, and corned beef and cabbage at the harbor house in piermont, new york. fierce town a hopscotch, jump, and a skip from cousin's place in closter. JLC and FOMO are on the Q2 from NY to ENGLAND. 23 days at sea. has he not been watching the news about people paycin' over cruiseships???. JLC said those people get stoned and don't know how to use the railings on the ships, properly. of course, they don't. JLC MANUAL ON BOAT SAFETY IN THE WORKS. I told him I was going to San Fran for my birthday and he snapped back at me via email that during this uncertain financial times one should think twice about lavish trips. really? 3 nights or 23 nights? actually, what i spend in a year is what my dad spends in a month. SNAP. is the Q2 by marriott? can you use the special password? and the password is shoelace. oh shit, i meant shoe horn.
i had one of those "if only i had " moments today. i have a lot of them when it comes to things like if only i had not worn my lacoste gloves to the bar, my fingers would not be human ice pops. if i only i had not used my bed as my glitter station. i would not have woken up with an eye infection and my contact lens stuck to the inside of my eyelid. if i only i had not forgiven him back in spring...OOOOPS....that one has to remain in the hope chest under my bed and keep beating me with the key. over and over and over and over again. i love groundhogs day.
i was going over to my aunt riri's house around 11am. by the time i got my moneymaker up to go it was going on 11:30. my cousin gave me a shopping bag of odds n ends some red peppers 98 cents a pound on sale, yams, hot/cold pad. you get the point. then she throw some cocktail franks on a sheet tray and wrapped them in tin foil and said bring these over too....when the kids get out of church at 1, we can have those over at riri's. well, jp took the red car so i just decided to walk over. it is only one block away. so, i grabbed the grocery bag and had the weiners in the other hand. i was thinking to myself as i was walking that i needed the exercise and was having a jane fonda moment...more like richard simmons on dope. well, i was quickly thrown out of that banana bubble by these loud barks. i turned to the right and this huge ass great dane was coming toward me. i just stopped and came to terms that i was going to fucking get bit. i kept saying to myself i am going to get bit. bit. bit bit. bit. that mother fucker came for me and hit a patch of ice in the road and slide right past me. the owner screamed his name and the dog stopped. looked at me. looked at his owner in his yard. he screamed his name again.i cannot even tell you what his name? no clue. then the dog ran. i was almost a gamey gay chicken leg.....excuse me, jcrew makes these sweatpants not milkbones and these ain't no cocktail franks. these mother fucking baby dicks are pigs in a blanket. so, yo pass me the guldens yo and get back in your cage and chew on that pigs ear. don't make me get out my cell and ring up that dog whisper on your black ass...and shit child, i don't think covergirl makes teeth mark concealer for thighs. better call up tyra and ask her america's next tired ass model b list cover girl if walgreens is going to be carrying that shit in 2009.
p.s. time to pack up the lacoste. red. yellow. green. time to go. all aboard the 552. holla.

resolution 2: visit more of the usa. first stop, chicago.

oh by way, does the chalfonte hotel have ham hocks wrapped in puffy pastry served with a blood orange honey mustard sauce? note to terry. wedding menu brainstorm. the gays always thinkin'.