drained.

is that a warrior's shield lain on a dragon's body?
a robotic jackson's chameleon lizard?
half a yo-yo on some weird leather?
nope.
it's my oh-so-turbo hot sink, fool.
so what's the difference
between your plain ol' bathroom sink drain,
all boring and shiny silvery waterbabyish,
and this pop-touch, luxurious, oil-rubbed bronze,
burly, super-sexy, bad mama-jamma?
roughly 300%.
triple the dopeness,
triple the mutha-uckin' dollars.
and i priced 'em out,
so i know exactly what i'm talking about.
i'm literally watching my sweet moolah
go clockwise right down the drain.
but, it's got to be worth it.
how could i let a weak-sauce waterspout
spurt it's juice into a craptacular container?
i couldn't. i wouldn't. i didn't.
duders,
it's got a touch-button drainage plug.
no levers, no lameness.
(you know you like it.)
and it's got the matching metal coordination.
i'm pretty much all about that sort of thing.
contextual continuity an' that.
the hot sh!t for my hot sh!t.
opulence, kids.
i'm on the mutha-F*er.
decadent defecation in my pooped-up palace.
this is what gets me through the day.
...yeah, i know.

the fever is here.

no,

not for the flavor.

spring fever.

our orchids are poppin' their petals out,

the bromeliad is spiral-sprout spinning it's

prehistoric root system in every direction,

and it's actually kind of warm outside.

i even let the fire go out.

that's the first time since XI-mas day, y'heard?

just for the afternoon,

and i re-lit that iron cauldron of hot fiery fury

strictly off of the embers.

i've got fire-creating prometheal man skills, ninjas.

what's manlier than one-match lighting?

no match lighting, of course.

i doo-doo that conflagration sh!t.

***********

guess what i worked on all week?

sleeves and backpieces.

i'm not kidding.

but i am as surprised as y'all are.

to be fair,

i actually also hit up that creepy weiner,

and in a cultivated coincidence/vanilla sky moment,

the REAL weiner guy brought a friend in,

and i finished sawing off the areola of a full-on boob;

but otherwise it was big black outlines,

big black shading,

and big black coffees,

for days and days.

my weekend is looming on the threshold.

i've already been back to the wood store,

and i suspect a table saw is in my immediate future.

did you feel that?

uh-huh.

my beard just sent a shockwave of barbarian masculinity

all across the universe.

it's all really going on,

this feverish springing,

this incredible excellence,

this real-deal Folk Life.

there's plenty of hard work,

yard work,

and berserk jerks that need attention,

but that can wait until thursday.

the weekend is here,

and everybody's been workin' for it;

never quiet, never soft.....