#November2016
Views From The Space-Ship: Waist Bands Are Fascists
Oh, hey! It’s Desktop Thursday on a Thanksgiving! It’s been a wild week, an eventful week, a wild and eventful day! But now I’m back at home, after a day of eating and footballing. In some comfy pants, my stomach bloat a minor nuisance now that I’ve been relieved from being stuffed into a pair of slim fit khakis. Fuck am I thinking wearing them? Fuck am I thinking wearing them?!
But, oh, hey! It’s Desktop Thursday! The weekly column where I share my worlds! Be it the header image representing my mindscape! Be it the images below, showing you me world(s), both real and virtual!
I hope! Oh, I hope, you’ll share your own world(s) in the comments section!
Weekend Open Bar: Rum Ham Rum Ham Rum Ham!
Woah, hey, woah! CaffPow here, coming to you. Late from Portland, Maine. Bateman, Riff, Pluto, and a friend are here for the weekend. Eating, dancing, eating, smoking (it’s legal now!), drinking (though, I don’t drink), eating, bouncing on a trampoline, and eating. But I’m here! Opening the Bar. The Weekend Open Bar! What are you up to this Weekend?
My Hot Sauce Addiction Is About To Kill Me. SPRAYACHA
I put hot sauce on everything. To those unaccustomed to eating with me, the sight must be unseemly. There I am, happy as can be. I sit, content in the slathering of Sriracha onto everything. As the meal progresses, the hot sauce begins to dominate my porky fleshy husk. My eyes being to water, my nose is running. Intermittently as I sweat profusely, I will sniffle up snot goblets sliding on their mucousy bellies out of my nose and down my face before sallying forth. Dinner is a battle. I’m fine with this. At least no longer will it be a battle to weaponize my food.