monkeywithabutcherknife

“…acting werewolf crazy; hairdo out of control”

So, uh, does this float make my ass look big?

This pic is from the Times-Picayune. Luckily, I only look mildly retarded. Cool.  It was a last minute call that changed my mind from staying home, watching tv to going out. Krewe du Vieux has always been one of my favorites, but I wasn’t going to go this year. Know why? Left to my own devices actually going and doing stuff starts to seem like kind of a hassle. Meaning that I tend to talk myself out of it.

But, really, if I wasn’t going to do stuff like this when the opportunity arose, then shouldn’t I just live in Houston or something? I have to remind myself of that sometimes.

Needless to say, I had a great time.

For more information on the krewes as well as pictures and videos, check out the TP.

It feels like an ass bitin’ kinda day. So was yesterday. Had this Tom Waits song in my head before I even opened my eyes this morning.

Mr. Siegal

i spent all my money in a mexican whorehouse, across the street from a
catholic church, and then i wiped off my revolver, and i buttoned up my
burgundy shirt, i shot the morning in the back, with my red wings on, i told
the sun he’d better go back down, and if i can find a book of matches, i’m
goin’ to burn this hotel down.

you got to tell me brave captain, why are the wicked so strong, how do the
angels get to sleep, when the devil leaves the porchlight on.

well i dropped thirty grand on the nugget slots, i had to sell my ass on
fremont street, and the drummer said there’s sanctuary, over at the bagdad
room, and now it’s one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready,
and go man go, i said tell me mr. siegel, how do i get out of here.

well willard’s knocked out on a bottle of heat, drivin’ dangerous curves
across the dirty sheets, he said man you ought to see her, when her parents
are gone, man you ought to hear her when the siren’s on.

you got to tell me brave captain, why are the wicked so strong, how do the
angels get to sleep, when the devil leaves the porchlight on.

don’t you know that ain’t no broken bottle, that i picked up in my
headlights, on the other side of the nevada line, where they live hard die
young, and have a good lookin’ corpse every time, well the pit-boss said i
should keep movin’, this is where you go when you die, and so i shot a black
beauty, and i kissed her right between the eyes.

well willard’s knocked out on a bottle of heat, drivin’ dangerous curves
across the dirty sheets, he said when the bitch is wound up, and her parents
are gone, man you ought to hear her with the siren on.
you got to tell me brave captain, why are the wicked so strong, how do the
angels get to sleep, when the devil leaves the porchlight on.