saturday night birthday.

blowhards,
blowoffs,
and blowouts.
that's the kind of saturday it is, y'all.
i rocked a repair on a wreck of a tattoo,
i got dissed and dismissed with a no-call/no-show, too.
bitter and sweet, friends.
in equal measure, even.
it's been super sunny,
and abominably cold.
with the winds of war,
and the wilder gusts of change,
harrowing and hallowing and hollowing out
vast chasms of woodsly goodness.
beautiful struggles an' that.
that's the way of saturn,
that's the way it works.
the harder way seems to be the only way.
(that's what she said?)
**********
in other news,
the juice is ON it, kids.
that's right.
little juicy juice, my sister-in-law,
is another year older.
and we are celebrating.
italian dinner,
presents,
non-vegan cake.
wait, seriously?
uh-huh.
we won't be having any, i guess.
that's cool.
i would hate for the rest of the word to accomadate us, anway.
awwwwww, man.
whatever, my ninjas-
it's a berfday, and that's good enough for me,
because i love berfdays.
that's word.
well-wrapped treats,
and brutally garlic-laced eats.
duders....brutally may be an understatement.
pasta fagioli, with as much garlic chunkage as beans.
there is sure to be a thunderous b-day salute
courtesy of the magical fruit and the cloven cloves
of the evil alium axis.
that's for sure.
***********
we're here.
and we've got b!tches blowing out beeswax candles
on that whipped creamy, eggy, milky cake.
the vegan police have been called,
but we've got diplomatic immunity on this one.
it's all about the juice, neighbors.
and we call exemption,
abstention,
and acceptance.
unwrapping,
rapping,
and crapping are all also abounding
in equal measure and importance.
berfdays was the worst days;
never quiet, never soft.....