Monday, May 25, 2009

BRB

The past week has been liberally basted with Lame when it comes to posting. It's partially because I've been working on a for-real project that pays for-real money and will let me buy foods that haven't for-real expired and also because I've been on the South Carolina coast for a few days with my entire family1 and have been busily gorging myself on all manner of deep fried mistakes.2

Anyway, I hope to have the recap of--sigh--last weekend finished and will return to my regular irregular posting schedule tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy your holiday. Go outside or something... I'm pretty sure you can still get wi-fi.3

1 Including my soon-to-be brother-in-law, who wins the weekend on sheer hyphen volume alone.
2 At this point, my blood type is officially hush puppy.
3 Yesterday was 85 degrees, with the kind of cloudless blue skies found in ELO songs, yet I spent a tremendous portion of the day sitting on the balcony downloading out-of-print albums by British pub rock bands with a handful of Chris Stamey side projects thrown in. I know how to party, yo.

7 comments:

poodlegoose said...

The South Carolina coast is a glorious place to be. Too bad the Upstate is filled with rain and gray skies. I'm sorry, no one cares about the rest of SC? Oh well... Hope you're having a good one!

*Akilah Sakai* said...

Good luck with the for-real project! Enjoy the family vacay and all that fried goodness you've been scarfing.

See ya when I see ya!

repliderium.com said...

What the fuck is a hush puppy? In Canuckville, they're shoes......
a fritter? a deep fried mixed breed? I'm confused.

Walter said...

I'm impressed you can still move your fingers to type after all that fried food. Last I ate like that for an extended period, I felt like my bones were swimming in grease, which is basically the most wonderful image ever.

The Imaginary Reviewer said...

Ah, pub rock. When I was in school we were on a field trip to the Lake District and as a final treat we were allowed to go to the pub with the teachers on the final night. There was a pub band there who regaled us with as many renditions of Mustang Sally and Brown Eyed Girl as we could stomach. There was so much ironic dancing that the teachers took it to be a sign of popular acceptance and the hapless combo were booked for our prom.

The joke was definitely on us that day.

Jules said...

Fine. Leave us for gigs that pay you money. Whatever. :)

Eric (Extra P.) said...

Hush Puppies: Fried balls that quiet yapping dogs.

Wait... did I forget to say fried balls of cornmeal? And that people used to throw them to dogs before we came to our senses?