I'm using the chicken to measure it.
I've been in the wind-tunnel of magazine deadlines for a while. Thus blog activity, photo activity, and musical activity have all come to a jittery, caffeinated, crashing halt.
Reality should come back by Wednesday.
But for now, a brief pause... I left the office typically late and M met me at The Heights for a light dinner and a couple of pints.
She brought a small rubber chicken, thus proving her superhuman level of pure awesomeness.
Ten points and infinite glory in paradise for the first one to identify the source of the title. Without looking it up, I mean. 'Cuz I'll KNOW, dig?
More deep journalistic substance Wednesday.
6 comments:
Uncle Meat! Dang, am I that old now?
We have a winner!
Ten points, infinite glory, and yep! We ARE that old, it would seem...
Life is short, m'dear. Don't work too hard!
I bought my brother one of those chickens for Christmas. They're really stretchy, right? They're awesome!
...particularly stretchy with a chicken-belly fulla beer, yet!
Reya: Life is indeed short, and thank GAWD...otherwise I'd lose what little focus I have now. Immortality is for chumps, I say!
I miss my mullet. I had a kick-ass collection of Megadeth shirts, too.
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