three-three

the magic number.
two times in a row.
march 3rd.
a day in the life of a worthy warrior poet.
real life documented as it happens.
live. local. late-breaking.
big news from a small world.
it's a good day.
and speaking of good...
i didn't really do much at all yesterday.
i mean,
i went to the recycling center-
and it was so warm out it actually kinda smelled bad.
that's a good sign, believe it or not.
and we got more bathroom ingredients-
because a day off without a trip to the depot ain't sh!t.
my watch broke,
and i felt like i ran out of time.
oddly,
the battery in my clock at home was dead too.
i take my time,
but i guess it's taking it right back.
and i made some epic cookies.
y'know how many flavors it takes to make a cookie into an epic?
five;
chocolate chip raisin oatmeal coconut molasses.
like i just said: EPIC.
overkill?
probably.
delicious?
absolutely.
i put the bitter away for the day,
and went balls-deep bananarama on the sweetness;
dark brown sugar AND molasses AND maple syrup.
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t, kids.
so,
just how sweet is sweet enough?
there's no such thing, ninjas.
and after i baked up four dozen delicious ducats of dopeness,
i made some seitan.
again.
i stood inside a rune-carved pentagram and everything.
hail seitan, an' that.
after the boiled slabs of gluten were done
smellin' awesome and looking disgusting,
jim and larry and amber and my mommy-in-law,
claudia, came over.
that's when the real cookin' got cookin'.
we had sausage-season seitan sandwiches.
(say that ten times fast)
with arugala and garlic on top.
yeah, i said it;
arugala.
it's a veg-e-ta-ble.
with a side of speary broccolini babies.
and a tasty orange tuber, too:
sweet potatoes.
yep.
sweet mutha-F*n' potatoes.
a little muthaland yam action for all y'all.
then,
we had a fire.
roasty. toasty. raging. barbarian. the works.
one match lit it up, duders.
it's a matter of personal professional pride for me.
i make fires happen.
with my spit.
***********
it looks like snow out there, folks.
of course.
i've got a journey into the land of the port today.
what's better than dark night drives in the snowstorminess?
uh-huh.
i'm sure the tatblasting terror i'm destined to endure
will in no way diminish my enthusiasm for driving
in bad weather.
me and phuc.
tsunami tattoo.
tonight.
are you comin' by?
i'll have almost no pants on,
if that's any incentive to swing over,
and hang out with my wang out.
maybe i'll even show you the new watch i'm gettin'.
...taking my time.
the last leg of a weekend of real life.
the last leg of a large leg tattoo.
tomorrow's another day.
i think i'm tatty-o'blastifying some duder's weiner.
NOT the weiner guy.
a different one.
lucky number seventeen.
seriously.
at this point in my dong-decorating career,
i think I may be the weiner guy.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....