sturtle [dot] com

See? And y’all thought I was just bein’ all poetical and shit.

Ok, mullets and mullet fansites and mullet taxonomophila were, like, cute and funny and kitchy for a hot minute, but it’s obviously time to move on.

What next…? Pompadour wigs, perhaps? Fat barbarian dreadlocks a la Romeo Gigli, circa 1995? Or how about the Gibson Girl? Everybody likes a good Gibson Girl, n’est-ce pas?

The other day I was…

You know that thing that sometimes…

My father once said…

Hmm.

Well.

I guess I have nothing to say. Read this instead.

You know things are strange when the country is in an uproar over your fourth-grade teacher’s husband and one of your father’s golf buddies.

Rapper C-Murder Indicted for Second-Degree Murder

Hello?

I don’t make this stuff up, people.

The grants apps have now been Fed Exed.

I hope they all yield big, fat checks.

But if they do not,

I won’t be distraught–

I’m on salary, bitch, what the heck?

I don’t think that I’ve bathed in a week.

My clothes are beginning to reek.

I look like a mess,

but it’s all for the best:

I’m cultivating my reputation as a freak.

Deadlines made this last week stink–

but that’s done, and now I can think

of new drinking games

for Kaytie and James

and tidy the house for The Minx.

The boyfriend seems to be having trouble with nude photo hounds–not nude people looking for photos, mind you, but presumably clothed or partially clothed individuals looking for photos of naked folks.

Now, although don’t find him terribly attractive myself, I can understand why some people might like to see Apolo Anton Ohno nude. I find it interesting, however, that virtual hordes of smutchasers are looking for boudoir photographs of Ross the Intern–not that he’s a perfectly talented individual, of course, but he seems a little…offbeat. What next? Nude photos of Larry “Bud” Melman? Bill Gates? Lady Bird Johnson? Or perhaps my own personal favorite, Benjamin Netanyahu….

In other news: thanks to the many folks who submitted votes for the title of our next play. I think, however, that we’re leaning towards one that Flynn suggested: Die, Die, Dixie Darlin’. It has a certain ring to it… Yes? No? I dunno…

Confirmed as of one hour ago: she‘s coming. Here. April 17th. Woo-hoo.

Just goes to show what a well-timed comment to a forward-thinking club owner can do for ya.

Five Haiku for a Winter Day

If I read one more

self-reflexive blogging rant,

I’ll strangle your dog.

Sometimes it is better

to stay silent than to

open your piehole.

No sense of humor

in a person is enough

to warrant murder.

The butterfly is

beautiful, but you make me

want to vomit blood.

Jesus fucking Christ,

it’s cold in here. Who left the

goddamn window up?

Believe it or not, today’s secret word is:

throttlebottom

which could be (1) a purposeless incompetent in public office, or (2) the title character of a new film from Falcon Studios. Frankly, I know a couple of folks who fit both bills…