going down.

love in an elevator?
more like a highway to hell, duders...
i'm going down,
to connecticut.
...again.
yeah, i know-
epic beatdown barbarian battle activation
in flippin' full effect!
awwww shoot, neighbors;
the bruises haven't even faded from deep purple
from the last time,
which was only 96 short, sweet hours ago.
the consolation prize i'm convincing myself will help?
i'm gonna bite the heads off of a bunch of beige animals!
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i doo-doo that cruel and unusual sh!t, kids.
check the teleport,
and recognize just how actually okay it's gonna be:

c'mon.
now you see where i'm at, though, right?
after all, what am i?
some kind of an A*hole?
uh-uh.
it's cool.
*
competent communicating is only as effective
as the listener's willingness to hear what you say
without slathering a syrupy slop of weak-sauce
all over the words in the sentences you're assembling.
uh-huh.
i'm just sayin',
i document real life.
that's a thing.
if you're paying attention, you know what's up.
if not,
well,
you should start.
you woldn't want to miss out, now, would you?
i know i'm not gonna.
that's why i'm trekking back to the badlands
and worselands of waterbaby central,
for another 'nother near-lethal dose of doo-doo butter,
overeating, traffic, ethnic diversity, and family togetherness.
nutmeg is the main ingredient in iocane powder, i guess.
oh, stop. you get it.
sooooooo,
responsible adulthood is happening,
just like everything else.
i'm making moves,
showing up,
being there,
participating.
...actively.
connecticut drew first blood, y'all,
but i'm about to escalate the conflict.
i'm on that home-delivery-type loud fresh hardness,
brought to bear on the bare-chested and the bald-headed
and all of the minky, mincey b!tchbaggerism in between.
word up.
it's not reacting i believe in, after all-
it's overreacting.
taking it to the limit, taking it to the mat,
taking all of it, as it really happens,
to eleven.
three thousand degrees with a forecast for lightning?
sounds like conditions are perfect for an invasion.
ready or not, connecticut,
i'm on my own sour-grape griping,
bitter pill-swallowing way
back to my original home sweet home;
never quiet, never soft.....