Find The Whaaaaa?

...So my boyfriend's parents came up from Okaleehoma for Thanksgiving, and all was nice, well-fed, good companiness and the lot. We had much good times. However, being hosts to them not from the Big, Windy City, we did find ourselves out on Michigan Avenue on Saturday.

A Holy Hell-hole of Holiday Shopping FRUCK, is what it was.

My hat is off to YOU, whoever you might be, who can stand the lemming-shuffle of throngs and throngs of consumer retards who willingly offer up their souls and personal comfort in pursuit of shoe bargains and perhaps a free sample of "L'Eau D'Executif en Hummer Gasoline Guzzler Ecceleration!".

Whatever.

Never mind my hippie, "just get what you need and not more" frame of mind, mind THIS:




... Can you see the "Find the Joy" stencil on the display window? Yes? OK.
Do they look like they're finding anything? Shit, no. They're too Valled up to look at anything but Pluto.






Your Armani Disco Amazingness has me thinking that when you shop here.... it is proof you have leedle penis.




This cat here was shaking his groove so bad, I felt bad I only had 5 dollars to give. He works for The Salvation Army.
No, really! Muther was Chicken-dancing, and humming, and strutting, and had lights and two fighting Santas on his hat...
...even if I WAS sheisted, he was hands-down the most genuine thing I'd seen all day.

TA-DAAAAAAAA!

Happy Birthday, Sheena! You are surrounded by peoples who loves you to the fullest...




...Even if they* take a fudgey-cake-thing and smear it all over your face.

So that you look like you lost the Peter Criss Lookalike Contest. Again.

So WHAT?

You are the beautifullest and heroically silliest, wonderful person I know.

I love you, sister.


* Pictured in background is Christine, older sister to the smearee. Quite proud of her handiwork, she is.
But I helped, so I be a schmuck, too. Go, schmucks!!

I'm Getting So Bad at Updating Stuff and Stuff...

...Not that I have a real audience or anything, but I'll apologize anyways: Solly!
Aside from keeping me way busy, work has too many stories for me to not feel like I'd be violating HIPPAA regulations if I went into detail about, oh, say the homicidal freak we had to cart from a house of ill repute in East Joliet to a psych ward in a hospital up here in Chicago... or the Russian lady who simply would NOT part from her "Jell-o and the milks" when we came to take her for her daily dialysis appointment... or the little ol' black lady we picked up who-- bless her surly cuteness!-- could not be anything more than an escapee from The Muppet Show.

So I won't go into detail. But LOOK AT MY PAN-SEARED ASS!!!





WhoooHoooo, doggie! See, this is what happens when you fall asleep while using one of them heating pads what fer to relieve yer aching lower back.

So, it DID relieve my aching lower back, but now I've got some sort of weird Star-Trek alien sunburn-butt. Behold!

I can now say that I've actually gone and cooked myself. What the hell?

I wants me a tappy-dance, by golly!

I LOVE musicals. I've watched them ravenously with my family since I was a tiny brat.

And I'm never going to apologize to you self-consciously hip, solo-dauncing, emo shoe-gazing poo-eaters.

Oh, my lordy that was so fun to say.

GIMME A DANCE PARTNER! I totally love the human contact! Stumbling and uncoordinated or Not!
Gimme WHACK! Gimme frickin' Giggles! Gimme people tripping over people and having one Hell of a Time!

Life... is not a rehearsal. Let's get messy, my friend!