all i hear is king me love me watch me did he love me honey kiss me is she off me naughty you've been naughty ladi dadi move your body

Maybe I needed (need) some time off. Deal.

Things that have crossed my life lately:

Hypothetical question: Let's say you're the father of a small child preparing to spend the day with said small child, as well as the wife, at a theme park of sorts (maybe like the one I work at). Putting yourself in these shoes, picture yourself in front of the mirror, picking out clothing let's say. You presumably have a collection of t-shirts (meaning hopefully more than one t-shirt) and a dressy shirt or two. When reaching your hand out, hoping to bring it back grasping the day's torso wardrobe, would the t-shirt you retrieve be the trusty and ever-so-classy "Miller High Life" shirt? Maybe I'm the only one who has issues with father's toting their beer preference while riding small trains with their child. It just feels...tacky. Like the mom's sporting matching Hooter's t-shirts with their teenage daughters.

I like that regular citizens like myself band together against the injustice that is the speed trap. My drive to work includes one of those 45 mph roads that could easily be 60 mph, you know the type. And on a particular curve of this road, police officers seem to enjoy parking in initially hidden locales, stalking their prey on the everyday speeder such as myself. Now I've seen these coppers repeatedly and as such have learned to drive cautiously, but my road compatriots don't seem to be privy to this same knowledge. A few days ago I was approaching this curve when a van in the incoming traffic lane opposite ours flashed his headlights a few times, indicating the lurking danger. Appreciated, fella.

I have an unnatural love of replacing the word "of" with " o' ," as in Barrel o' Monkeys. Again, deal.

As of this last week I have become infinitely cooler, what with my receiving an early birthday present in the form of a record player. Much of my time not spent at work is now being used for cruising used record stores of the physical and occasional online variety. I don't spend much (usually between fifty cents and four dollars), but have already built up a respectable collection including, but not limited to: The Who, Simon & Garfunkel, Cat Stevens, the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, Toto (though I forgot it in Cedar Rapids last weekend), and William Elliot Whitmore (though admittedly this wasn't a used record, but was totally worth the $12 I threw down at the Electric Fetus (winner in my contest for best store name of all time)). That should about reestablish any cred I've lost by having D&G glasses. It's nice to be back in the indie world.

Dos Equis and I wrote some music when I visited him a week ago. It was one of the most cathartic experiences I've ever had. The songwriting progresses, more on that later (once I purchase a new pack of strings).

Finally, I saw these cats last night:


DOOMTREE


It was off the hook.