A Treasure of Crap
Still sick. How bloggy of me. I think I’m grinding my teeth in my sleep and in the process I’m milling/mining some mercury and thus making myself a most incredible moron. There’s more to it than lame excuses I’m sure but that’s a good one I think.
I love lists. I really enjoy crafting my setlist before a show. I love watching my grandmother make a grocery list for me. It’s well thought out and the handwriting is shaky and in cursive. She usually verbally adds souse because I think she knows its bad for her (souse is a cold cut made from pig snouts). VH1 goes shithouse on lists. What? What I thought was brilliant wasn’t? What was I thinking? Lists are quick and factual. It’s good that I like doing my taxes. It’s bad that I’ll allow myself to look at inane lists ad nauseam.
Thus, I have some crap I need to lose. Email me your address if you like crap (I’m not going to shit in a box. I know how to but I choose not to) and I’ll enclose the follow-up email with a list of what I am parting to you. And believe you me, it will be a treasure of crap.
love,
Dummy