thirdsies.

mattock!

even better than buttocks.

y'know why?

because it's got a hard-hewin' hoe-adze,

and a sunovabitchin' pointy pick part, too.

buttocks just have a hole in the middle.

this thing'll make you a new one.

sh!t!!

that jammie is amazing.

it's like a chop-stab-scoopler.

...and that is dope.

if it weren't for such seriously savage stormswept

steel implements of masculinity,

i'd almost wonder if i were a cookie-cuttin' saddlesoap stain.

no joking,

during morning toast times,

i cut myself on crusty bread.

and it hurt!

so much for gutter punk credibilty, ya'll.

i mean,

if the organic sourdough is too crusty,

before it's even toasted up,

i shudder to think about the unshaven spigots and spouts

on some of those huddled masses.

i'll stick to the spiked sticks.

they'll stick to their patchworked carharts.

like i said,

mattocks are definitely better than buttocks.

'specially those 'uns.

speaking of crusty butts....

i unclogged my shower drain this morning.

with a plunger.

normally,

i'd laud my epic handymanliness,

but this time,

big black blops of gloppity gak erupted from the pipe.

while i was in there with 'em.

fortunately,

i was taking a shower when i was plumbing.

unfortunately,

clean water doesn't account for the steamtrapped stink

of a thousand ancient rinses and repeats.

heinous?

you'd better believe it.

***********

we went to portland last night with our friend elsah.

we ran in on our monthly visit to the green elephant.

somebody must've chummed the waters, kids.

we brought a whole toolbox of hurt down on that joint.

choosing the wrench like a hammerhead,

shoveling everything i saw.

c'mon.

after a record-time one-bite no-chew round of appetizers,

i had some very cabbagey asian vegetable (read as: farty) soup,

then turned up the fatness to eleven,

and totally tuned up a double-header of entrees.

neither the biggest,

nor the most beautifullest,

but i acheived the main objective:

more.

destruction?

oh hell yeah.

and then,

i still managed to cram a slice of pie down the pipes afterwards.

shark gluttony, ya'll.

i doo-doo that.

the waitress said i was the hungriest boy.

it could've been the dripping walrus 'stache of glass noodles

hanging off of my beardface,

or all the full-mouthed potty-mouthing i garbled between gulps.

i dunno.

i was definitely the fullest when we left.

berserker barbarian battle-beast.

that's a long title for a landed baron of be-dopeness.

and it's a hard-style lifestyle, too.

i hurt myself for all ya'll.

just so you'll remember me fondly.

my triumphs are my tribulations.

there's no poetry without try an' that;

never quiet, never soft.....