preemptivity.

happy preemptive mutha-b!tchin' berfday!
there is no escaping the hottness, y'all.
we will find you,
and you will like it.
that's what happens when would-be
non-celebrater haters try and skip out
before their actual big birth bash-'em-up.
you just can't evade the hearty party over here.
it's like a maximum security Folk Life fortress, yeah?
woooooooord.
frosting and candles, duders.
they're coming atcha like a guided missile of munchability.
not that you can tell in these pictures,
at all,
but that's carrot cake
with toasted walnuts
and vegan gummi bears on it.
jess and leah hooked up our special little buddy.
...with treats!
our very bestest man,
vegan chef paul cucchiarelli turns dirt-dirty 30 on saturday.
but,
he's leaving us this afternoon,
for the whole hot sweaty summer.
....in honky-konkulous martha's vineyard.
sooo crackery.
boat shoes and all.
***********
how do you correctly execute a birthday wishmaking?
wellllll,
first,
you start with huffing.
in this case,
it was exhaust fumes from our burly non-girlie pick'em-up truck.
we moved rocks, yall.
-lithic-type sh!t.
manliness incarnate.
stonehenge, caveman, pyramid action.
chest hairs were sprouted, kids.

after all of that,
there comes the great big puffs-
at the campfire, in the drizzles,
it was with a savage stormswept semi-humid stink stump.
what makes cake taste better than black slick'em tar tongues?
not too much, ninjas.
except maybe not having that happen.
good luck with that.
it's ALL really happening.
even the ugly, smelly parts.

then you blow the house down.

as long as the house is made out of candles,

then that big bad werewolfen berserker fury

was totally poppin' off.

hard.

delicious cake,

berfday presentations,

dinnertimetable dopeness,

hot fire,

and my homeboy's last night in town.

where did all the full house magic go?

the kids are home,

holly is home,

our up-here peoples have their own spaces,

and tonight,

it'll probl'y be all quiet on the northern front.

empty nesters, y'all.

we got that.

***********

in other news,

mr. phuc tran is gonna ruin my night.

wait, what?

oh, yeah.

lazerbeam linework inside of my knee-pit.

and my under-butt thigh area.

duders,

i may actually, in fact, be an A*-hole.

because i'm driving down there willingly.

if you want a tattoo,

you have to get a tattoo, yeah?

the hurtie parts make it worth it,

or some philosophical bullsh!t.

but i'm just throwing this out there:

there is no such thing as necessary evil.

now,

this particular evil,

like a great many of my most favoritest evils,

will undoubtedly be a beautiful scar on my person.

but necessary?

not quite.

i would love to expect, exclusively, the unexpected,

but unfortunately,

i just happen to know better than that.

exactly what i assume is headed my way,

is hurtling down the heated-up hurt hallway,

volcano-scorching it's way to my knee,

like my own personal quebec forest.

hot fire, on my leg,

pre-drumstick, post-rump roast;

well done, but still juicy.

never quiet, never soft.....