days and days and days.

going, going, going away.
life is happening,
and i think i may be missing out.
i mean,
i'm on the grind, and there is no grist in the mill-
nor any grain, for that matter.
just the squealing twisted-metal muzak of an
empty set of axles coming unhinged.
where the holy motherF* did this year go?
i mean, december's in full swing,
the holiday craziness is unfurling it's tentacles all around me,
and it's already wednesday night.
that means it's the end of my weekend,
and tomorrow is another 'nother day of preposterous, ponderous,
dratted-and-bebothered jobsitting with no hope of parole....
two days of 'free time',
and as usual,
not one single thing of purpose or import got accomplished.
i mean,
sure,
we finalized the plans to make your favorite woodsly warrior poet
a pump-action master of marketing and manufacturing of munitions.
...that's correct.
me and my duders from the deep woods of the north
are ON the mutha-ucka, son!
making weapons of bullet-launching, lead-dispensing,
high-end, top-quality craftsmanship and accuracy.
making. machine. guns. b!tches.
i cannot stress the eleventh level of supreme hottness involved.
but seriously,
my partners and i are producing an incomparable piece of engineering,
assembled and available,
for your pleasure and protection.
i'll tell y'all more when the big reveal is ready.
but know this, ninjas-
they won't be cheap.
so bring your i.d. and some worthwhile money,
and we'll get you sorted proper, yeah?
yeah.
and for the record,
i know guns are oh-so-scary to some of you.
but that's only because you don't understand the level
of turbo-awesomeness inherent in a big hunk of death metal.
c'mon.
we're makin' some sexy blasterizers, duders.
unless you're joking about being dope,
you NEED one.
of each.
woooord.
*
other than that little bit of big action,
it's been the scurrying and scampering of a glittery,
sparkle-magical sugarplum fairyland over here.
buying treats, and writing lists.
santa must have some excellent auditing skills, son,
because i have had to check my jammie-jams
much more frequently than just twice.
the reward i've gifted myself with,
on both days of this reprieve from work?
indian food.
uh-huh.
in between bullets and billets of wrappings an' stuff,
i've doubled-up, and digestively devastated two heroic helpings
of brownish blops and greenish glops.
that's the flippin' truth, neighbors.
spices and sauces and thunder in the workings.
indian food is what i needed,
to fill the void where satisfaction in holiday times should be.
instead, i've got lentil lava melting me a new A*-hole.
ho. ho. ho.
now that's what's really happening.
aloo, neighbors.
taters all up in it to win it,
with little mutters muttering in my midsection.
that's peas, if you please.
the bringing of the thunder has commenced in duplicate.
triplicate if you're counting the guns, b!tches;
never quiet, never soft.....