My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Lust For Life

Today I am 39. And, as I was driving to work today with Iggy Pop’s “Lust For Life” playing in the car at top volume (damn, his voice, coupled with David Bowie’s in the background, is just to DIE for), I called the guy in front of me a Dick-Ass for driving with his right turn signal blinking for 10 miles. God, I’m so mature! I love to cuss!

Actually, I’m proud of the fact that I haven’t gotten too mature and stodgy, and that simple things still amuse me like Red walking up to me last night and saying, “Goddam!” with a big grin on her puss.

Awww, Baby’s First Curse Word! I’m so fucking proud!

So, today, when I go home at lunchtime, I’m going to eat a huge piece of chocolate cake, crack open a beer and take the laptop out to the deck (man, does this strange weather rule or what?), and do some serious writing. Technically, I'll be “working at home” but today the “working” part is going to be defined a little differently than my boss might appreciate. But, you know what? It’s my damn birthday.

If you haven’t yet shopped for something for me, there’s still time! And as an added bonus, this is the longest day of the year, so you’ve got about 10 more hours of daylight in which to get me that perfect something I so need! Whatever that might be! Suggestions include: Money, a Dishwasher, a big Cheese Pizza, and a smack on the head for Indiscriminately Capitalizing Words for No Good Reason.


10:36 a.m. ::
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