Kurt's Time Here Drawing to a Close; City Drowning Sorrow in Pints of Haagan Daaz

Why does there have to be so much sorrow in the world? Why can't Kurt be everywhere at once, or at least stay here where we can all bask in the radiance of his despotic glory? There might have been a follow-up Kurt/Trey summit last Monday, but it got preempted by bad weather/fatigue/each waiting for the other to call. If it had not rained all day, Kurt would havebeen taken to this city's oldest and most awesome putt-putt golf range, nestled in the heart of our fair village. I really wanted to show him my favorite nature preserve, but traveling alone with me to a secluded woods somehow didn't appeal. I even volunteered to let him carry the shovel and hacksaw, but no. Also, he "forgot" the little hand made bat toy presented to him, thereby thwarting our plans for surreptitious monitoring his every move via embedded GPS/nanny cam technology. He's quite canny, that Kurt. Watch this space for a retrospective of our encounter.

Overheard at the Kurt/Trey Summit

"Quantum physics shows us that matter, on a sub-atomic level, is an attention whore".

After Math

....or maybe after gym class----oh, hell--no time like the present....................

May I offer, for your perusal/feverish bidding like a bunch of starving sharks at an estate sale, the following items?

The actual sofa upon which Kurt actually sat (seating area indicated)
The section of carpet upon which his actual feet (shod) actually rested
the table and sheets (sheets made actual contact)
a cast off hair from Kurt's actual head(!!!!!)

Also for sale, but not yet pictured:
the actual door upon which he actually knocked (shave-and-a-haircut,btw)
the actual bathroom he was in for a whole couple of minutes
the passenger side seat/ entire truck that safely transported Kurt to his hotel.

I'd really like to offer up this entire house, along with the hotel, but apparently there are some sort of silly laws prohibiting me from doing that.


But don't let me catch you even looking at the Todd nail clippings. MINE!!

The Hour Grows Ever Closer

................when HE arrives. I've strewn the place with subtle collectors of shed skin cells and CO2, all cleverly disguised as clutter. Also, having read that last post, I have diplomatically chosen to send the odd-Tay one-Clays out for the day---what the eye doesn't see, the heart can't take out back and shoot. Again. And again.
What will happen? Will he agree to my experiment in quantum blogging--the one I've decided to call
"Schrödinger's Kurt"? So may questions, and so little time left to prepare. Watch this space for further updates----should I survive.................................your bids will be taken on the various memorabilia generated by his mere presence.
Now, if I can just lure Mariana here...............

The historic and possibly ill-advised meeting between bloggers Kurt and Trey takes place today, if the buses are running. I wondered what would be the most appropriate gift to bring Trey as a thank you for the elaborate meal he is undoubtedly preparing. Only something special would suffice.

You may remember that, with the repurposing of OPE blog, Todd was rendered obsolete, and it became necessary to take him out back and shoot him. It was even kind of satisfying. Anyway, in my culture, it is traditional for the family of the deceased to prepare the body for burial. Todd's people couldn't do it, as they didn't know he was going to be dead. So it fell to me.

Fortunately, as I was clipping Todd's nails (and giving them the traditional French tips), I slipped them into a ziploc bag for later archiving. What could be a more appropriate gift for Trey than a little piece of Todd (and a ziploc bag)? I of course retain the cloning rights, but the clippings will be his to fondle!

eBay, Smithsonian, or Vatican Vault?

A new meme to replace marry-fuck-kill---what should I do with the actual phone on which I actually spoke to Kurt ? It comes with access to the voicemail left by himself, so extra value and all, but what to do? eBay? Donate to Smithsonian? Or hand over to the Vatican to be forever suppressed? Your input will be gratefully read. Probably.

You REALLY Wish You Were Me Right Now......

.............seriously.

It is possibly a sign of impending apocalypse, but............. I just spoke to Kurt. On my actual phone. I have evidence that other people actually exist.

I think you wet yourself. I'll wait here while you clean up.







It gets better. He's coming here to IRBHN World HQ.

I think it's mentioned in the book of Revelation.........

Bad News: Some drunk guy peed on the pillow pile erected in the towne square. We tried to hold off on the public execution until Kurt could be present, but public outrage being what it was..... sadly, Kurt was not able to enjoy the bloodletting. Talk of gladitorial games has been heard................

What I Did With My Holiday Blues

The holidays usually give me the blues, so I decided to stay busy.
They say idle hands are the devil's workshop, but I think I made a fair case for busy hands producing the ungodly.
Colorful ginger bread voodoo dolls are fun--my fave is the blue guy with the comb over.
This is my innovation---the single sock monkey, made from only one sock.

Bats. I made many bats. The toothy one at the bottom flew all the way to Portugal. His arms are still tired!
F-Bomb bunny, number 2 in the holiday depression bunnies series
emo bunnie---number one of the series
an evil sock monkey, and more bats and bunnies below.

The City Prepares

So much to be done! In anticipation of the arrival of a certain blogstar to our fair ("so-so" fair, not "pretty") city, the local authorities/village elders are "taking certain steps".
Stray dogs are being rounded up, and given baths, haircuts, and breath mints (on their new collars, like St Bernards); vagrants are likewise being collected, bathed, and taught to sing our simple songs of greeting (tone-deafness leading to bone-deadness), and best of all, in the towne square--a giant pillow pile.
Let it never be said that we don't know how to kowtow to the glitteratti!
Here is a (partial) list of celebs who have graced our little settlement in days past:

Kukla and Ollie (no Fran)

That skinny girl from the movies (the one with dark hair, except she's up for some award for being in a movie with her hair blonde)

That guy who plays bongos naked

That blonde guy who plays a vampire on TV

That other blonde guy--the big one

Some other people I didn't personally recognize, but they had a real 'tude, so they must be famous

The boogie man (at night, under the beds)

Something to Blog About

Hey! How are you! Wow, it's been-what? About a million years since an update, right?
Things have been very interesting. I found a dead raccoon, for starters. What is so interesting, as opposed to disgusting, about that? Well, it had apparently committed suicide. Where it ever learned to tie a noose, I'll never know.
And speaking of shocking news, guess what? Go ahead, guess away.
Nope. No. Wrong. How rude. No. No. And, NO!
Ok, I'll spill.........someone is coming to visit the wanna-be major American city I live in.
"So", you may say, "don't people often visit your quaint little 'berg?"; to which I can only reply "well, yeah---but not like THIS person". So there, smarty. With that kind of attitude, I might just keep my little secret. Hum dee dum dum dum, la la la la la laaaaaaa.......................
What? Oh, are you still here? What? Who might it be, you ask? Do you really want to know?
Ok, I'll tell you.
[ahem] It is with mixed pleasure and apprehension that I tell you...........what are you looking at?
Oh, that. Yes, my hair looks weird. I asked Mei-mei to help me trim it, and she thought I meant chop most of the length off the back. Yes, it looks silly. No, I'm not getting it "fixed", I'm just going to gel it to death until the back grows out again---that way the front will be longer, and it will all tie up neatly. Why grow it if I'm only going to tie it up, you ask? Why are you all up in my business? What's it to you? What's that? You think I'm stalling? You think maybe no one of interest (other than the douche bag entertainment industry vermin that swarm in for sux by sux worse) would ever set foot here in this oasis of hipster mediocrity? Ok---enough trivial dead raccoon hair tragedy minutia.
The person of interest, the one leaving the relative comfort of their very own domicile to travel to this geographic location is------wait for it, even better---scroll down....................................................................................................................

















Kurt-Kurt-Kurty-Kurt-KURT!!!!!

Couldn't you just die? Well don't---not here, anyway----I still have a dead raccoon to remove.

Is this some lame excuse for not blogging?

Well, an attempt, anyway.
Just when I thought I was as weird as I was going to ever be, I discovered how much Bjork appeals to me. In my world, she makes perfect sense.

Really!

D o sumthing.......ergh

.........................[slurred trill]..................eh!

where's tha.....................thing..................I wanted? ya know, tha..............dammit.

dammit dammit dammit dammit DAMMIT!!!!!!! uuuuuuuugh!!!

tha.........thing tha plays MUSIC........................over there. it is. over there it is...........I'll jus'.......................................jus'........................................................["Rehab" begins on stereo]



[THUD]

DOAS pt 3: Rhyme "Furry" with "Ennui"

Dear Diary,
So, this is sentience.

whee.

More than just a little bit disappointing. In fact, you can HAVE it.

I'm a raccoon. I was about as ready for an existential crisis as a manatee is ready for pole dancing . Maybe less.

Ok, so I'm the first raccoon to contemplate it's own mortality. If you were planning on a plaque, keep it. What I need is a drink. Or something.

And to make matters worse---something has been eating my berries. Oh, I apparently have a concept of ownership now, and it is causing me no end of vexation.

My garbage, my berries, my den--my mortality, my nausea and inertia--[angry trilling]
I'm off to steal some booze and an Amy Winehouse CD.

It smells gross in here, but it's warm

I like what the raccoons have done with this place. Nice use of garbage to make a little soft place for resting. Best impromptu den I've seen, and I've stolen from quite a few. I like the same berries they do, so when they go out to do whatever shit raccoons do, I check out their stash. It's good stuff, after you wash their stink off. I may bring some of the cool squirrels with me next time. Peace out!

DOAS: pt 2

Dear Diary,
The trick-or-treating ruse worked like a charm! I have enough simple carbs to double my body weight eight times, but something tells me to go easy. I'm mildly disturbed by the leaps and bounds my intelligence has taken since lapping up that green glowy liquid that was dripping from the cloning tubes. There! How the hell do I know about cloning? I'm a frickin RACCOON.
And when did I learn to type?
Seriously--what the hell?

Diary of a Scavenger Pt 1

Dear Diary,

The new lair seems safe. The scent of blogger is old and faint, like it wasn't used very often. Good.
This abandoned blog is in close proximity to many bountiful back porches. Lots of food scraps in bins, and stale pet food in bowls.
The natives are dim and slow. Tomorrow night is Halloween. Planning to pass myself off as a trick- or- treater, and load up on carbs for the approaching winter. Hope I don't catch rabies!

Oh, Look! An abandoned Blog.........

.................shelter. maybe have litter here. feral babies have room to grow strong.
Raccoon happy!

Happy Autumn Equinox (today, maybe tomorrow.....)

We here at IRBHN World Head Quarters wish to extend our best wishes for the end of (brutally hot, bordering on homicidal) Summer to one and all. There. We've done it. Pagan holiday greetings--check.

One finds, as one grows older, that the tendency to behave like an elderly hippie rather increases.
Interests and enthusiasms for organic gardening "take root"(rim shot), and the whole thing begins to gather speed, eventually leading one to sourdough bread. It seems to be a short road from cultivating vegetables to cultivating wild yeasts. (One fears that cheese making and folk dancing may attempt to raise their rustic heads.)

...... not a WORD to the squirrels

...or the mice, either.

That tomato plant? The one I was in despair of getting anything from, what with the insane heat? It has TWO NEW FRUIT.

Seems that at some point overnight the temperature got cool enough for them to do their thing and make baby tomatoes. Now, if I can just figure a way to keep the critters at bay.........