...on monday magic

the bastard isn't so much into the free advertising but, once in a while, he has to give some out. share the love so to speak.

what the hell am i saying?

share the love?
scratch that.

ok, it's like this. last week, jiffy pop, assistant photo editor of killing stuff monthly and son of the fine fine city of nawlins told us that his favorite taste of home was closing it's doors forever and he wanted us to get a piece of fried chicken and fried green tomatoes before jacques-imo's closes it's doors forever thus making convenient and tasty cajun goodness is lost to mister and missus jiffy pop forever. or until someone else has the bright idea to open up a cajun/creole eatery in the upper west side.

so, we went.

had some drinks.

had some fried goodness.

and left hand rob might go back on wednesday to do it all over again. good thing the bastard has cajun eateries in his neck of the woods.

—the bastard

...on mulletude

this actually happened at lunch yesterday. the bastard didn't get outside for lunch today as it's totally sucking outside. well that's not 100 percent true. the bastard did step outside the say hello to the ladyfriend. her printer isn't working right and she needed me to print something up for her so i headed downstairs for a brief chat this morning. it makes the morning so much nicer. anyway, yesterday, chicago jerkface, jiffy pop, and myself went across town for some popeyes fried chicken (kfc my ASS) and en route back, we saw this majestic plumage exiting from what appeared to be the heavens.

OK QUICK SIDEBAR: scoop, my former right hand and best lucky enabler loves mullets. loves em more than life itself. so when i sees em, the bastard stalks them because out in l.a. the plumage is apparently a little bit more polished, thus rendering it lackluster. in her opinion, there is nothing better than a femmullet and a foreigner t-shirt. so, i do this.

however, someone had caught me mid hunt and thusly gave me the stink eye. undaunted, i kept at it. enjoy. COME ON! ENJOY!

—the bastard

...on rat kings

so the bastard hears things. mostly things thsat prompt him to but into conversations

"you see when rats live in tight quarters, their tails get tangles together and form a rat king"

"who's a rat king rob?"

"i was just telling jiffy pop, the asst photo editor about how when a bunch of rats get tangled in their own tails have to function as a single organism is called a rat king. but it's an urban legend"

"you know, i saw the nutcracker when i was a kid and when they trotted out the rat king, he had like 10 or 20 heads"

"really?"

"yeah it was kind of creepy when i was nine"

"i saw the nutcracker once, and granted it was a small company and the dancing was okay..."

"you know..."

"...but i have to say that when they killed off the rat king in the first act they left nothing for the second act but dancing candy. they should have saved some action for the second act"

"you know, i was going to tell you that it pays to go to lincoln center to see that but when you put it that way, the second act is still bullshit dancing candy"

"bullshit dancing candy?"

"yeah"

"have a ever told you the plot for cats? it goes like this. "where's mr mistoffelees? where's mr mistoffelees? oh here he is."

broadway sometimes makes me want to jump through a plate glass window sometimes. anyone want to go see edward scissorhands the musical?

—the bastard