It was winter over here at my igloo as well.
I don’t have anything else to say about that apart from “Very Strong Rum”.
Today I played hooky from LegalHut and finished a painting. I also shoveled and had a chicken sandwich. Finally, I put on some pants because we were having an Open House at my house, looking for a potential new roommate. And I want them to think I am the sort of person who wears pants. Hoo boy, the parade! My favorite candidate described our living room as “wild”, and one of the others broke a cardinal rule by sporting such as culottes. There was a pretty nice boy who is studying to be a Masseur, and the less I say about that the better. Just to make sure that we find the best possible fit, I have placed a new ad here.
There are Machiavellian shenanigans going on here at the office. Think “War of the Roses”. I am going to go mad, mad I tell you! I cannot give a proper vent to my feelings on the person who is causing me such ire, but I tell you that the treatment I currently have the pleasure of receiving is like being forced to line dance while wearing a diaper full of broken glass. I wake up knowing that the only thing on my plate are cold lima beans. So, to the individual who is daily urinating on my cake, I say Fick dich du verdammter Arschloch! Deine Mutter ist ‘ne Hure!! Lutsch Schwanz in der Hoelle! Stirb! Stirb! Stirb! Maybe it is time to consider a new career. Meaning, *a* career. As luck would have it, I am in the midst of negotiations for a portrait commission. If all goes well, I will be jetting off to Berlin in a matter of weeks, to make two paintings, pocket some Euros, and have a bit of Spaetzle and vacation.
For now, I am going to go outside and scream at traffic.
I got my hand caught in an elevator door today, and the passengers inside did not hit “doors open” right away, preferring to leave me stuck and twisting in pain. Sneaker ‘n’ Suit wearing Bastards.
I can’t wait until I move to New York, and can get my hand stuck in more affluent places. Actually I was thinking of moving on to my former home town, Jersey City. Then the Creator would truly have the last laugh, as I always swore that city is a hell to which I would never return. Actually, it’s kind of cute and has a movie theater now. So they say.
The main thing I need to get famous, and stop drinking flavored coffee in this air conditioned facsimile of purgatory. But my Boston sell-by date has not yet arrived. For now, my immediate plans include making boys wear makeup, and making paintings of them. Oh and eating another cookie.
We finally got our confounded marriage license. The most surprising part was at the end of the delicate dance between windows in the cavernous basement of city hall: we were handed a goodie bag. It contained samples of Downy, see Pepto Bismol, viagra a carpet spot remover, whitening toothpaste, and assorted coupons. So take heed, newlyweds are apparently prone to dyspepsia, halitosis, and spotty carpets! Apparently we should have registered for a Bissel steamer. Or a tarp. Or a hose-wielding zookeeper.