breakfast is important, too.

i'm eating pizza.
and it is delicious.
real talk, guys.
hippie-type expensive organic do-goodery jauns,
for my face!
yeah!!
i'm rockin' a slice or eight of flatbread pizza.
(the first time i typed that, it read flabtread. no thank you)
flatbread believes in feeling positive and other weak sauce.
but look at this cool thing!
that helps out my feelings toward this pizza.
it has the cucch's name on it.
remember that guy, my ninjas?
think really, really hard.
i'll give you a hint:
he's EXPERT(e)....at moving away.
now do you remember?
yeah, that guy.
he used to be around,
which was pretty fresh.
now he's not,
which is not so fresh.
but sort of like just about everybody else,
i guess.
y'know,
NOT around so much an' that.
geographically inappropriate, i'd say.
still,
this pizza has got it poppin'.
even if we're shoveling it down our throats
without the benefit of a live woodsly audience.
awwwwwwww, man.
***********
saturday night,
and it's far from all-the-way-live.
there's still a bunch of F*ing wind blowing,
harshing up my fire-making plans for evening hottness.
that's no joke, neighbors....
the hot fire count is dangerously low up here.
i mean,
the woodsly goodstove heat-throwing ironbox
is pumping out those activated b.t.u.'s,
but the outdoor appreciation action is actually
at an all time record low for fall season night-style
hard, hot, barbarian bonfire blazing.
it's just that i don't want to burn down the forest.
the mountains can take care of themselves, kids,
but the dry leaf tinder coating the rest is just begging
to be conflagrated into the future of a hellishly hard style.
that's a thing.
maybe i'll do it anyway.
november makes wrenches of us all.
*
fruit brute.
look it up.
before you were born,
it was a companion brand to frankenberry,
and count chocula, and boo-berry cereal.
i swear it's true.
i put the fruit brute on somebody today,
and his replacement, as well.
that's the yummy mummy.
no joke.
just when i want to go ahead and hate every single thing
as hard as i possibly can,
at the top of my lungs,
with all my might,
a dude with too many e's in his name gets
totally rad on some life-altering decisions.
five kinds of cereal mascots,
five tattoos,
one actively activated participant.
add it up.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
it makes eleven.
yes,
i'm pretty flippin' excited.
no,
i didn't take a picture.
yes,
it still really happened.
it all always is;
never quiet, never soft.....