A certain 'friend' of mine is coming north. I don't know where he is. I don't know when he'll arrive.
But he's coming.
Soon.
I know this. I fear this. I hate this.
The unknowing.
He is coming. I hate him.
I want him to stay where he is and hang with someone else.
But he's coming and there aint a damn thing I can do about it.
Those of you reading this blog for a long time know who I'm talking about. You know what is about to happen. The horror. The horror.
He's coming. The bastard is coming.
In what guise will he appear this time?
Today's snow brings me no comfort. He's coming. He is a bastard and he is coming.
For me. And me only. This I know.
I can't stop him. I can't reason with him. I can only wait. With one eye open.
I hate him.
Yet he still comes for me.
Friday, March 16, 2007
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24 comments:
Cousin Saul?
Good guess...but wrong.
I certainly don't fear that little pansy....
(the answer is in the archives)
HEY HEY! Knock that off!
Why I oughta!!!!!!
"I can only wait. With one eye open."
Why not play it safe and keep both eyes open?
is it Hoagy?
Is it King of the douchebag birds
Bingo.
He'll be here in a couple of weeks
Goddamnit, first I miss the raccoon and then the bird reference.
What's wrong with me this week? Maybe I have an undiagnosed head injury!
I had no idea who you were talking about, but you still crack me up.
I never travel North, only South.
I'm gonna be a little late...
He's done nothing but talk about you all winter-- I think he really missed you. I'm really glad the feeling is mutual, he'll be so pleased to hear it!
Lamont,
I wasn't scared off just yet,I am still reading with bemusement and came for my gin soaked scones but you are too sparing with the gin and too generous with the scone.
I also need to admit that I now read Cake's blogg too. Brilliant stuff.
I must go now and be english and drink tea and eat my cucumber sandwhiches. It's what we do.
Bella Emberg:
And whinge. You people whinge.
I was all set to be all welcome-backing and stuff -- I even put the extra "u" in "humo(u)r" when I asked if you were okay -- but you've crossed a line.
Nobody -- but NOBODY -- accuses me of being stingy with the gin. That is a base libel, up with which I shall not put.
You're on notice.
-- Lamont Cranston
P.S. Welcome back.
WAYNE? Is it WAYNE? It's either Wayne or Death. Perhaps the two are synonymous...
I hope you don't sue me for libel. I only have 10p down the back of a sofa and some crumbs the dog left behind.
Lovely scones though. Lovely. If that helps.
Dear Sympathy for the Harp Seal,
If you read other folks posts you'll see that Spud got it on the 7th post.
If you just stared at yourself in the mirror all day you might have missed it.
Based on the tone of NoOprah's comment, I'm guessing the King of the Douchebag Birds arrived early this morning...
Based on an intensive CSI-like analysis of other folks' posts, I note that Bella and Lamont make an adorable couple--kinda the blog world's Nick and Nora. Spud is my hero. I tried to Nancydrew the archives, but it's dusty in there, and I bumped my head on the low-hanging sarcasm. Must return to mirror now, check on bruises, gaze longingly into my eyes...
Bella and I prefer to think of ourselves as George and Martha from "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf".
I ain't no William Powell. But thanks for the thought. Bella: Think you could pull off a convincing Myrna Loy? Or Elizabeth Taylor?
-- Lamont Cranston
Bella and I prefer to think of ourselves as George and Martha from "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf".
I ain't no William Powell. But thanks for the thought. Bella: Think you could pull off a convincing Myrna Loy? Or Elizabeth Taylor?
-- Lamont Cranston
Have to watch those gin references: They WILL repeat on you.
-- LC
Ick, gin...::spits::
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