It is a holiday week which means that yours truly is grinding her teeth a little bit.
No, it’s not you Thanksgiving, it’s me. I’m a grinch sometimes except I’m not tall, furry, green and live on a mountaintop with a dog which is in serious need to be put in foster pet care.
This year, however, I’m going to try to do better. A lot of traditions that I really liked are gone due to new circumstances. And it’s not going to change at Christmas either so I just need to pick myself up by my bootstraps and drink a big ol’ cup of “Shut up, Trace” which is trademarked so don’t even try to steal it.
It’s made with rotisserie crow and the tears of sock puppets with just a hint of jasmine and chicken stock. Sort of the opposite of a raw juice diet.
There are some things that have cheered me up recently. A complete fangirl moment from a friend of mine who saw an actor in our local pub that was on Star Trek. I didn’t recognize him so I guess I’m not a true Trekkie. Another fan moment of someone else I didn’t recognize from another friend of mine when an actor showed up who is in the Young and the Restless. I would, however, recognize Bigfoot and have a complete meltdown. I don’t know if it would be a fan freak out but it would be a meltdown nonetheless if a Sasquatch came into my line of view. There might even be tears of the skeert variety.
I’ve made a couple of new friends who are musicians here in Nashville. I, of course, had to share my armadillo and horsefly poetry with them although I originally mentioned my terrible love poem to the honey badger that Steffens requested. I’m a douche, I forgot to share that epic stinker, dadgummit. So we’ve decided that this is performance art and most definitely needs to be performed in public at a poetry reading. They, of course, agreed to be dressed as a Mariachi band. I will be performing as Susan Boil, which would be a combination of Susan Boyle and the girl who comes out of the television set in the movie The Ring. They are headed out on the road in the next few weeks but who knows, this could be revolutionary. Or horrible, but who the hell cares. Ideas, campers, can be invigorating and fun.
I guess the bad poem about the mosquito and the snake are a little too sexually provocative for a bad poetry performance art piece, but one never knows. Damn, that would be fun. I’ve been telling people I need new hobbies.
It’s a Thanksgiving Turkey miracle!! Even if it doesn’t happen, I swear I had a hell of a time talking about it and planning my new career in performance bad poetry art which has to be a better hobby than competitively eating hotdogs. That sort of makes me want to barf, that hotdog eating thing.
(Of course the photo credit goes to the always wonderful TheoGeo)