—You’re damn right. Because I make the rules around this place. And don’t you forget it.
As for the little fella, well, he danced up a storm last night at the Rocky Mountain Blogger Bash—that is, until he got into a bit of a scrap with our cocktail waitress, who didn’t much care for a certain comment he made about her rather pronounced fun bags. After that, the mood turned kinda sour and strained.
Stupid breasts. Of all the gin joints in all the world, those two freakish sweater puppies had to come bouncing and jiggling into ours…
Whew…I was having Dasypodidae withdrawal.
Now you’ve done it!
I looked down.
I pronounce “fun bags” “fun bags.”
Who pronounces “fun Bags” “rather”…?
Although, Dan Funbag is a bit of a boob…
And goodnight from CBS News. Cleavage.
One month ago today
I was happy as a lark
But now I go for walks
To the movies – maybe to the park
And have a seat on the same old bench
To watch the children play (huh)
You know, tomorrow is their future
But to me, just another day
They all gather around me
They seem to know my name
We laugh, tell a few jokes
But it still doesn’t ease my pain
I know I can’t hide from a memory
‘Though day after day I’ve tried
I keep sayin’ he’ll be back
But today again I lied
Oh, I see his tail everywhere I go
Wuzzadem’s, and even at the Feisty Ho’s
Have you seen him?
Tell me, have you seen him?
Oh, I see him dance as the cold winds blow
In the sweet music on my radio
Have you seen him?
Tell me, have you seen him?
Why, oh, why
Did he have to leave and go away? (oh, yeah)
Oh-oh-oh, I’ve been used to Friday night armadillo
And I’m lost
Baby, I’m lost (Oh)
Oh, he left his shit upon my porch
But left that break within my heart
Have you seen him?
Tell me, have you seen him?
Oh, I see his paws reaching out to me
In my sleep, he’s putting on my BVDs
Have you seen him?
Tell me, have you seen him?
[Spoken:]
As another day comes to an end
I’m lookin’ for a letter or somethin’
Anything that he would send
With all the people I know
I’m still a lonely man
You know, it’s funny
I thought I had himr in the palm of my hand
[Repeat to fade:]
Have you seen him
Tell me, have you seen him (tell me, have you seen him?)
There is no armadillo.
/matrix
Shut up, cranky-d. Jeff makes the rules around here. And don’t you forget it.
Hey Dan, it’s all in good fun. By the way, bite me.
I’m sure the armadillo will regret his remarks. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but,—well, on second thought, maybe not ever.
Now that Jeff is a big-time internet video STAR, I expect we’ll start seeing that armadillo doing the Macarena on Hot Air any time now. Yessiree, I’m sure it’s coming any day now…
I tell you I have a special affinity for those little brown nosed puppies! Sometimes they just mewl and whine until you have to give them some atteention.
I can’t blame the little fella.
We want a picture.
Of the coctail waitress.
When you’ve seen one armadillo, you’ve seen them all.
Twenty-eight days
Six hours
Forty-two minutes
Twelve seconds
That’s when the world ends.
— Donnie Darko
SB: mass
equals E/c^2
Deal with it
Well here are some pics of Jeff and company over at Still Stacey’s. Look at the guns on these people!!! and Jeff is wearing….pink?
Oh well, still cute of course.
http://www.stillstacy.com/?p=648#comments
I retract half of my comment last night. You are an unmitigated dick. Have you not ever noticed that the atmosphere turns sour and strained simply by your presence?
I smell the almond-like scent of a cover up. Spill it, Jeff, what’s the shell rat really been doing?
(Bonus: How do you make 5 lbs of fat look sexy?
A: Put a nipple on it.)
You know, I have—but only at these events.
I’ll skip them in the future. You have my word. That way you can get on with business of networking and sipping wine, and I can get on with the business of not being an unmitigated dick.
Someone needs a ramrod-ectomy.
Wow, the atmosphere sure looks sour and strained in those pics at Still Stacy.
Waitress, I’ll have a whiskey sour and a side of strained Stacy and Rae! And, um, make that To Go.
And where the fuck is that bar? I drove past the address probably four times before I gave up and went to Shotgun Willie’s.
Well, the Armadillo may not have danced… but we’ll always have Paris.
I apologize for the mean-spirited comment I left above. No one deserves to be spoken to (or written at) in such a manner.