Sunday, July 27, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
good day sunshine...
(good lord, i need some moonshine)...
So, today Ms. Betsy was awoken to the sounds of smashing and hammering of tools, the breaking downs of doorways in the upstairs main house. Seems they're adding on another room while i'm toiling away down here with no hot water...
BUT, every downpour has its aluminum siding, and today i was given as my morning supplements a withered old and barely toasty bagel. It was handed to me by some hippie of a manservant, looking so withered it looked like a damn 90-year-old scrotal sack. Bland as a motherfucker, too.
LAST NiGHt we had some fun, tho. Me and Ms. Szintilla, the Finnish maid-servant woman from Finnland who sometimes brings me my vittles, we had played the dress-up as we drank some Schnapps. She's quite a hottie in the dress i made for her:
then after that we munched on some carpet until i was woken by more harrowing dreams and some unpleasant hammering.
So, today Ms. Betsy was awoken to the sounds of smashing and hammering of tools, the breaking downs of doorways in the upstairs main house. Seems they're adding on another room while i'm toiling away down here with no hot water...
BUT, every downpour has its aluminum siding, and today i was given as my morning supplements a withered old and barely toasty bagel. It was handed to me by some hippie of a manservant, looking so withered it looked like a damn 90-year-old scrotal sack. Bland as a motherfucker, too.
LAST NiGHt we had some fun, tho. Me and Ms. Szintilla, the Finnish maid-servant woman from Finnland who sometimes brings me my vittles, we had played the dress-up as we drank some Schnapps. She's quite a hottie in the dress i made for her:
then after that we munched on some carpet until i was woken by more harrowing dreams and some unpleasant hammering.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
good morning, good morning...
they're at it again...
...since when did i move to the fucking suburbs? those Foundering shitbags took me from that pleasant plantation location to a fucking suburb. i can hear these motors' hemming, hawing, motoring, and chomping from all the way down here in the cellar.
i was up all night working on the damn flag, then twisting and turning in my sleep cause a some stupid dreams, and i wake up to resume my stichings and a minute later i gotta hear this damn racket of a machine?!
it's getting me all kinds of flashbacks, fucking left and right.
i would even go back to AMsterdamn. with this kinds of waether...
...since when did i move to the fucking suburbs? those Foundering shitbags took me from that pleasant plantation location to a fucking suburb. i can hear these motors' hemming, hawing, motoring, and chomping from all the way down here in the cellar.
i was up all night working on the damn flag, then twisting and turning in my sleep cause a some stupid dreams, and i wake up to resume my stichings and a minute later i gotta hear this damn racket of a machine?!
it's getting me all kinds of flashbacks, fucking left and right.
i would even go back to AMsterdamn. with this kinds of waether...
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
take me back to olde Sanduskie...
Betsy wants to go back to Brooklyn. Betsy misses certain things about Brooklyn...
Sunday, July 20, 2008
while my mittens gently sleeps...
Betsy has not woken up to the sound of a lawn mower in quite some time:
It seems that she (Betsy) has been shuffled and moved by Underground railroads to a new location so as to keep working on her mittens with her Mittens...
George W. didn't seem to like her so much in the cellar, and found for her some better accommodations in the cellar of another of the Foundering Fathers's houseses.
we looked just like this in the heat of the night as we was moving:
Mittens made the travel with me alright; i'd just have to squoze her to relieve her as the train rolled along. She is a-napping now by the chamber pot here in the cellar of ours new accomodations.
What might only happen from now will time tell.
but, my god, are my shoulders (and calves) aching from this sewing and a-stichin' ... some heavy roads we've had to climb to get this flag all done up and good -- gots me 8 and one half stars on the bitch now, still workin on them stripes as it were tho (they go all the way down)...
It seems that she (Betsy) has been shuffled and moved by Underground railroads to a new location so as to keep working on her mittens with her Mittens...
George W. didn't seem to like her so much in the cellar, and found for her some better accommodations in the cellar of another of the Foundering Fathers's houseses.
we looked just like this in the heat of the night as we was moving:
Mittens made the travel with me alright; i'd just have to squoze her to relieve her as the train rolled along. She is a-napping now by the chamber pot here in the cellar of ours new accomodations.
What might only happen from now will time tell.
but, my god, are my shoulders (and calves) aching from this sewing and a-stichin' ... some heavy roads we've had to climb to get this flag all done up and good -- gots me 8 and one half stars on the bitch now, still workin on them stripes as it were tho (they go all the way down)...
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
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