Birthday, Besmirchday.. (Part 1)
The key to starting off a birthday on the good foot is having a shirtless hippie prepare grape salad.
As Julia Child would say, well, maybe at least do, were she at my house, "Go out and get the relatively ripe but strange looking grapes off the vine in the backyard."
Then squeeze the soft, tasty interiors out from within the callous shell and put in a bowl. Then, smile, and recognize that you, a mortal being, have created Grape Salad (tm).
Even Shitler, the Kitten, was feeling a little cocky - and it wasn't even her birthday.
Methinks the goat has a bit o' sleep on his mind. Shitler pounces.
Not too sleepy to lay out a little sumthin'-something for his erstwhile sister.
Fuck that - I'm outta here, spaketh Apollo.
Unable to figure out how to delete one picture from the blog without deleting them all, el Blogmaster posts a sideways picture of spectacular color and integrity. A veritable orgy of ocular stimuli.
It being my birthday, I get the middle slice of the cake, bitch!
And it being MY cake, it's actually just a giant pot brownie.
And now, we leave the house, to walk to the party down the street.
Some of us, berobed, walking on concrete walls..
Others, smiling, slowly striding, savoring the solemn stroll in nightime's majesty...
.. Beholding the purloined flowers of yesteryear.
As Julia Child would say, well, maybe at least do, were she at my house, "Go out and get the relatively ripe but strange looking grapes off the vine in the backyard."
Then squeeze the soft, tasty interiors out from within the callous shell and put in a bowl. Then, smile, and recognize that you, a mortal being, have created Grape Salad (tm).
Even Shitler, the Kitten, was feeling a little cocky - and it wasn't even her birthday.
Methinks the goat has a bit o' sleep on his mind. Shitler pounces.
Not too sleepy to lay out a little sumthin'-something for his erstwhile sister.
Fuck that - I'm outta here, spaketh Apollo.
Unable to figure out how to delete one picture from the blog without deleting them all, el Blogmaster posts a sideways picture of spectacular color and integrity. A veritable orgy of ocular stimuli.
It being my birthday, I get the middle slice of the cake, bitch!
And it being MY cake, it's actually just a giant pot brownie.
And now, we leave the house, to walk to the party down the street.
Some of us, berobed, walking on concrete walls..
Others, smiling, slowly striding, savoring the solemn stroll in nightime's majesty...
.. Beholding the purloined flowers of yesteryear.
posted by David at 1:29 PM
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