Loading ...It was definitely the commentators who made the blogging fun for me through those long gruelling hours. But a lot of incriminating evidence against me came out during the course of the evening.
This is not surprising, since Adam and Richard the Previous were lurking - two friends with whom I’ve certainly committed a few crimes. (all in the past, mind you). But if I’ve been incriminated, so have they.
Adam told the following little tale in response to my post about Haunted England:
This strange accounting phenomenon reminds me of that time we fondly remember when we were sitting around in Southampton under the influence of some research chemical, and you were looking at something, and a look of utter wonderment and astonishment came over your face. And you said “there are three muffins… AND THREE OF US!!” Trying to account for things (or people for that matter) when really far gone is a tricky process indeed.
Of course, the worst thing about this story is not my grand muffin-revelation, but the fact that he revealed that I did, at one time, live in Southampton. And Richard the Previous revealing that I once lived in Macon GA is exactly the same sort of betrayal as revealing that I once lived in Southampton.
Another of Richard’s cruelties during the course of the blogathon. He made me post this picture:
Yeah, no shit, thanks Richard. I swear I no longer dress like that. I dress much worse, actually. All I ever wear is pajamas nowadays. And a lime green bandana on my head.
You may be wondering why I wear a lime-green bandana. Well, my hair is always a mess. I get major bed-head and rather than tame it I just shove a bandana over it and ignore it. But nowadays bandanas, in certain contexts, actually have meaning.
Remember the old days when you wore a bandana in your back pocket to gay bars to indicate whether you were top or bottom, or had any kind of deviation that potential partners might want to know about before talking to you? Those were the fun days when being gay was all about screwing and not laden with all this relationship, parenting and marriage crap. Those were simpler times then.
But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about gangs. I wanted a bandana that wouldn’t be associated with any particular gang. Red, blue, black… all the good colours are taken. So I have a lime-green bandana.
My friend Tami accuses me of being a member of the Key-Lime Pie gang. If there were such a gang, I’d happily join.
Speaking of key-lime pie. Does anyone know of any brand of sherbert, frozen yoghurt, or sorbet that has a key-lime flavour? Clue me in on how to find some and I will love you forever.
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Comments
This entry was posted on Monday, July 31st, 2006 at 8:05 pm and is filed under criminal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Well, I also outed myself as having lived in Macon GA. What was I thinking?
I am so glad you decided to keep this going. I also like how now your comments are huge, and all replies are tiny, tiny, shoved in a corner somewhere. That’s the Che I know and love!
hey, gimme time, I’m working on making the comments bigger.
but thanks richard - guess we’ll see how this whole thing works out.
Well, I managed to make the comments slightly bigger. But we don’t want them too big now do we? Can’t have them stealing the show from my posts.
I too am glad that you are still out there. You do make me laugh! Key lime pie gang. tee hee hee
Shelley
Thanks Shelley!
I love anything with the word “pie” in it. ‘cept maybe my ex-husband, whose nickname was pu-pi. Key lime pie is great, but no one wants a poo pie. (not even his new wife half the time)
Pu-pi? ! I’ve always wanted to know why he was called Pi, just never got around to asking. I thought maybe he had 3.14 really good days in his life. Or that he really loved pie, but was very pretentious that he had to spell it pi. Or that he just went around in circles without doing much. Or that it was short for pillory or somesuch.
But pu-pi? Pupae? An intermediate and quiescent stage of insect development? Or even worse Poo Pie? Is there any pie that could be less tasty.
Yes well, it was sort of a “cute” nickname thing we had going. And since you know how loathe I am to admit that I participate in anything that could be construed as “cute”, I’ve never really owned up to the whole story.
His nickname for me was cherub, and at some point became cherub-pi, or just pi-pi. and from that he became pu-pi. so we were pi-pi and pu-pi, or just “the pies”. yeah if you think that’s sickening, wait’ll you hear the rest. When we got Bea, we became A-pi (since his real name begins with an A), B-pi (or Bea-pi) and C-pi. (cuz mine starts with a C).
This is the sort of crap I had to put up with for all those years, R the P-pi.
Ha ha! A-pi, B-pi, and C-pi! Ha ha!
Oh my goodness. (wiping tears from eyes). I can see why you didn’t want to own up to that one.
Although, if I’m honest, I also think it is sweet.
yeah yeah… kiss my ass.
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