The Politics Of Dancing...

Sup, fools?

Having a good weekend, I hope. I am, of sorts anyway. I once again successfully drank the local out of High Life Light on Saturday night. Speaking of insane, we were all gettin' down Saturday night at the local to the docit tones of the housse band who was kickin' it old style. The door opens, and roughly 45 Santas come through the door on a pub crawl. Oh, and an Elvis impersonator from Vegas happened to be there as well. Crazy, crazy shite, folks.

Some updates for New Years;

a. Our confirmed list has cleared the sixty person mark. About 70 more responses to go.
b. My folks might attend (sweet. that is, until about 1130. eek. Sorry in advance, mom.)
c. We have a little somthin' somethin' for midnight that Chapman, the Foxxe, Jesse, Ronan, and Garrett will totally dig.
d. The soundtrack this year will be neat-o. Working on it as I type this.

We're getting closer.


As for the Foxxe's last entry. I agree with his selection. I will also add National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation for a few reasons. One, Beverly D'Angelo is tres hot. Two, Randy Quaid is hysterical. And three, it's one of Chevy Chase's swan songs. As far as accompanying activities, I don my authentic Chicago Blackhawks "Griswold" jersey, identical to the one he wore in the movie. Yes, kiddies, I was so enthralled with Clark W. Griswold when I was 19 that I spent $300 to have the Blackhawks make me that jersey. Well, the good news is that they thought it was such a cool idea, they made an additional jersey, had him sign it, and it is hanging in their corporate office. Hmmm.


Talk with ya soon!

Ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb.

"Can't stay at home, can't stay at school
Old folks say, ya poor little fool
Down the street I'm the girl next door
I'm the fox you've been waiting for..."

Can I get a "what what"?

I mean it. Can somebody, anybody, give me a "what what"?

It's been that kind of day.

Why?

Damn good question. I can't even figure it out. Except for the following...

1. Christmas is almost here.
2. I'm not dead.
3. I got my live "Styx & REO Speedwagon: Arch Allies" CD today, and there isn't a damn thing that the Fox or Heather can do about it, even though they are likely writhing in agony as they read this.

(In fact, before I continue, I shall now publish the lyrics to Take It On The Run. Enjoy!)

"Take It On The Run" [Originally by REO Speedwagon]

Heard it from a friend who
Heard it from a friend who
Heard it from another you been messin' around

They say you got a boy friend
You're out late every weekend
They're talkin' about you and it's bringin' me down
But I know the neighborhood
And talk is cheap when the story is good
And the tales grow taller on down the line

But I'm telling you, babe
That I don't think it's true, babe
And even if it is keep this in mind
You take it on the run baby
If that's the way you want it baby
Then I don't want you around
I don't believe it
Not for a minute
You're under the gun so you take it on the run

You're thinking up your white lies
You're putting on your bedroom eyes
You say you're coming home but you won't say when
But I can feel it coming
If you leave tonight keep running
And you need never look back again

You take it on the run baby
If that's the way you want it baby
Then I don't want you around
I don't believe it
Not for a minute
You're under the gun so you take it on the run
You take it on the run baby
If that's the way you want it baby
Then I don't want you around
I don't believe it
Not for a minute
You're under the gun so you take it on the run

Heard it from a friend who
Heard it from a friend who
Heard it from another you been messin' around

Now, where was I? Oh, yes...

4. New Year's is not too dar away, and I have a wonderful collection of misfits coming down for Astrolounge 2005; the New Year's Eve Party of Tomorrow...Today!

Now, more than a few of you have been wondering what this "Astrolounge 2005; the New Year's Eve Party of Tomorrow...Today!" is all about, and I can't says I's blames ya! Oh well. I can say I am more than thrilled at the prospect of having everyone (especially my brother and sister; Team Centamore is ready to bring the shit and get it ON!!!

(And how do we like my fancy Trebuchet font?)

It's going to be hella good stuff, man. Remember!

1. If you're on the guest list, righteous!
2. If you're not on the guest list, ask yourself two questions.
a. am I a swank chick?
b. am I single?
If you can answer yes to those two questions, You're on the list!

I wish I could give you more details, but we want you to be surprised. I can tell you this, though.

-To make this party happen, we needed a chainsaw.
-When all is said and done, over ten pounds of metal will have been used.
-I will be extra, super charming that night, especially after nine or so. Be sure to stop by and say hi!

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go try and find the fox in that song...

More later, all.

Ciao!

Five Reasons Why Barry Bonds* Can Go Fuck Himself.

5. His Babe Ruth comments.
4. "T could mean anything," Bonds* replied. "G could mean anything. And pee could probably mean anything."
3. Captain fucknuts (er, Mr. Bonds*) has the audacity to state he took steroids under the assumption they were flaxseed oil and arthritis medications.
2. When asked why he hadn't purchased a "mansion" for his personal pusher, oops I mean trainer, he responded thusly; ""One, I'm black, and I'm keeping my money. And there's not too many rich black people in this world. There's more wealthy Asian people and Caucasian and white. And I ain't giving my money up." Boy, oh boy, can he go fuck himself.
1. He has disgraced baseball and insulted the fans that supply his "black" money. Mr. Bonds*, kindly go fuck yourself.

(To all the ladies out there, my apologies for the harsh language. Mr. Bonds* has that effect on me. Not to fear, though, I am still the same old loveable Bunny I always was; I'm just faster and can jump higher now. Thank you.)