moving along.

that's right, b!tches...
i'm like arabian nights and sh!t.
1001.
and counting.
***********
four bean,
three pepper (+ black pepper),
two alarm,
one and only chili, my duders.
it's on the stove and it's stewing in it's cumin-cured juices.
first and foremost,
a tasty batch of gastronomical hottness is what we all need.
there's enough for you, too.
i just don't think you'll make it here before it's all gone.
and you probably won't want to brew your own black lungs
in the post-dinner aftermath, either.
sorry about all of that.
***********
new haircuts and new shirts are pretty flippin' great.
and i've got both.
that's doubly good stuff,
and two headlights of bright in an otherwise
drudged-out dreary workweek.
grinding, ninjas.
that's the mark of responsible adult obligations,
and the very necessary insoluble unsolvable series
of mostly unfortunate events.
doing work.
that's what i'm talking about.
i'm not tryin' to WORK, mutha-lickas,
i'm trying to LIVE.
and i just don't live to work.
i do both, for sure.
hard, even.
but i'm not roundin' on that daily breadwinning-type style.
i'm daily grinding.
grist and grit and ground-away good-humor.
that's a hard way to separate wheat from chaff.
so,
maybe some of you should stop by
and sweeten the pot?
i think so.
after all,
like the little red hen,
if you don't help,
you don't get to have any.
word up;
never quiet, never soft.....