Right now my life is a study in chaos. I am sitting here staring at a wine-stained, torn-in-two paper towel that contains my list of “Life Priorities.” Among them are: find health insurance, euthanize Boris, and blog. So, in order to fulfill at least one of them today I am writing this entry, though I have no fricking clue about what. So, here goes my stream of consciousness rant. I miss the days of Meatloaf Monday. I am referring to the ketchup-slathered protein, not the singer. Though I do love both. I recently did a kickass karaoke rendition of “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights.” That song is hard to sing, especially that section in the middle with the baseball announcer. Now, it’s not as hard as “End of the World” by REM or “One Week” by Barenaked Ladies…those two are impossible, especially if you’ve had a drink or five…I need a drink.
I also need a pair of snow boots. I hope it doesn’t snow much this year. However, watching the snow fall on the water would be beautimoose. I wish I had a moose. Seriously, a moose I could ride. How badass would that be? Riding a moose. Whenever I rode my moose I’d wear one of those red fox hunting jackets and jodphurs or maybe a whole fringed cowgirl outfit, cause it would just be lame not have an apropos ensemble. If not a moose, I'd have a buffalo. I had buffalo jerkey once. It was tasty. When I go on my carb cycling diet, I’ll eat more jerky. I’m hungry. But, not for Tater Tots. Call me a fascist, but I have decided I hate Tater Tots. I also hate Shelly Long, that actress from Cheers, and the color purple (both the hue and the film with Whoopie Goldberg). I am not fond of cartoons either, especially claymation, which scares the shit of me. When I was a child, “The Little Drummer Boy” was nightmare fuel. That kid and his animal pals were creepy. Damn, Christmas is only a month and a half away. Christmas is my favorite. I love it all—the lights, the sprinkle-covered cookies, the music…I seriously could listen to “Last Christmas” by Wham on a continuous loop…I like the Cascada version too. And on that note, I need to watch that video. Be right back...or you could watch it with me...come on, Click HERE! Wonder if I could pull off a white off-the-shoulder sweater and pirate boots and nothing else? Probably, not. Where was I? Oh yeah, I love Christmas, the variety specials, trimming the tree, eggnog… but, not as much as Frank. No one loves eggnog as much as Frank. He drank a whole carton yesterday in the car between the lake and here…a WHOLE carton. It’s already his sixth of the year.
When I was an elf at Macy’s, my name was Eggnog. That was a cool job. Fuck, I have gone and quit my job. Come January, I have NO job. I need a drink. I need a drink and some semblance of security. I need Meatloaf Monday. You know, or Taco Tuesday. Just a life with some sense of schedule and normalcy and wholesome predictability. A life not packed into Rubbermaid bins. Do you know the third most popular use for Rubbermaid bins? Hiding human remains. The fourth is for burying pets. Note to self, before tomorrow’s super sad veterinary appointment, get a bin for Boris. I can’t stop listening to this song… “I’ll give it to someone special.” I need a drink.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.