The recipe.

Man if I could sum up everything I'm feeling these days with a mash up of lyrics to certain songs, it would be the gayest thing that I ever did besides blogging about it..sorta like Jon Cryer, making a mix tape for Molly Ringwald. and with that fuckin hat he wore.
Anyhow, I'm a little stoked that the holidays have for the most part finally moved along. Gone on their proverbial 'merry way,' so to speak.. In light of this, and between a lot of food preparation, x-mas shopping, and making a pretty bad ass tree for my dogs, (complete with leftover halloween decorations,)  I have found the recipe that beats my party trays, christmas cookies, or even the occasionl bean casserole that I put the moves on, and have decided to share it with you:

 1 fifth vodka,
2 parts xanax,
4 bowls of greens with every family member
That's it, you don't have to toss anything. Just light it.

And my boy Brutus, we have recently become friends again. Not that we ever really stopped but we are starting to get the hang of some shit, and I couldn't be happier and neither could he..Hope everyone had a rad holiday, and enjoy that recipe.

Is that a fly in my soup?

Funny how when a fly lands all we want to do is kill the motherfucker. I have my flyswatters laying about, ready for any type of fly warfare. I'm prepared for a fly apocalypse. The common misconseption about flies is that they shit everytime they land. Not true. They actually vomit more then they shit. Another neat fact about flies is that a zip loc baggie filled with water hanging above a doorway will keep the little bastards out of your house, (you do however need to change it every 6 months, I know this because I do it.)
There's been alot of flies buzzing around lately and I happen to be showering more then normal so I know it's not me smelling like shit. So I figure it's other people smelling of it. I don't like people that smell like shit, or buzz my tower for that matter. If anyones gonna buzz my tower it will be me thank you very much.
After a well needed morning nap, I came downstairs, and barely poured a cocktail to sit down, and a fucking fly lands in my drink. Kind of reminded me of being out at a bar and seeing people that buzz by you that you reeeallly don't want to see, but they are nice enough to stop, say hello, and vomit in your drink so to speak. (or take a shit.) before you even get a chance too. Don't need it. Get the fuck off of my cloud, stop buzzing my tower, or whatever.

Back to the fly, this thing lands on the rim of my glass, and I assume it has shit...So I do what anyone would do, started cooking some bacon and googled this nonsense, it said that if a fly has indeed shit, it will leave a little brown spec, but more then likely it vomited. I found that interesting, and I also found a brown spec on rim. So the motherfucker DID shit. I killed him. Not proud of it, but it DID shit on something I cared about...The bacons done. peace.

Moon Fucking River

Alright. Mom called today out of the blue. Of course I had just got done roasting a bowl, so I was good and high. Perfect for 'mom time.' Poured a cocktail and kicked it on the patio catching up on our holiday business and other things. We're pretty good at going 3 months without a phone call or email and pick right up. It's nice.
Anyway, she knows I'm in the middle of this book that I've hit the fucking wall on AGAIN. and she says, 'do you have your notes? I have some trivia for your book.'..'Yeah, I have it right here."
She says, "I thought you might want to know that mine and your dads song was 'Moon River' by Andy Williams, from around 1967."  That was it.
( Kind of funny that she knows that I have to make a note of something so easy to remember, because she knows I pretty much don't remember shit. ever.)
So we went on about some other facts I needed to get straight, the funniest one was in 1967 my soon to be dad was rolling around on some Honda 50 (basically scooter status) to pick my mom up for dates. Thats funny because the motherfucker was 6 foot 5inches tall...a true gentleman, but to big for that bike none the less.
Fast forward I guess, they were divorced by the time I was 2, and dad graduated to a Honda 1000 touring bike, with the stereo and fairing and all that. Which he later died on in Big Sur. Ironically my mom is the one that had to call with the news and all that shit. (They had been divorced a good 20 years by then.) Not important right now, but what was cool is that she called to tell me that she was thinking about the song 'Moon River' today.
45 years later she still claims that love.
And now I can't get the damn song out of my head.  But at least I have my notes, and might be able to do a little writing again.
Sidenote: a friend of mine sent me something about not forcing shit. Man, you were right, and so was Old man Chuck.

 Mom and Dad and my usual scowl fresh from Hawaii in 1970.