Señor Grumblecakes (jervo) wrote,
Señor Grumblecakes
jervo

1. Get well soon, Peter Gammons.

2. I had a dream this morning where I was Bill Cosby's son. (And it wasn't me, jervo - I was actually Bill Cosby's son, meaning I was black.) I had been kidnapped (and there was a great scene here where the dream went from following me to following Bill, holding a shotgun and slowly walking up the street to where he thought the kidnappers were), but I'd also managed to convince my abductor that he should let me go back to work, so as not to arouse suspicion. The kidnapper agreed and dropped me off in front of my office building, which also happened to house a secret NASA office. As I waited in the lobby, hoping the kidnapper would run off, a group of NASA people showed up with gifts for the astronauts and their forthcoming Mars mission. Suddenly the security guards freaked out and the gift-bearers were revealed to be terrorists. I ran out of the building (which now happened to be alongside a beach) and escaped into the forest, while the building collapsed behind me. And then I was simply Bill Cosby's kid again, trying to figure out how to get home.

3. On the Good Evening front, we got a wierd e-mail the other day from some NBC executive asking us to participate in this upcoming American Idol-esque band competition. I have absolutely no idea HOW they found us, or WHY they think we would be appropriate for this show. I'll say this, though - if we end up doing it, and if there's some Simon Cowell-esque douchebag motherfucker who yells at us for not being young enough or hip enough or that our songs aren't catchy enough, I'm going to beat him to death with my guitar.

That's about it. Work's been crazy, Kath's been wonderful, the dogs are still cute as hell and it's too goddamned humid out.
Subscribe

  • Farewell, LJ

    So I guess I'm retiring this blog. Part of me feels like I need to make some sort of eulogy or something; part of me just wants to move on already.…

  • Catching up

    The first sentence of this post was "Finally, some breathing room," and then as I was in the middle of the second sentence I got handed…

  • (no subject)

    Kinda hard to imagine Thomas Pynchon (and not, say, Tom Robbins) writing this paragraph, but there it is on p. 99 of "Inherent Vice":…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Comments allowed for friends only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 2 comments