Could easily fall from grace
And another would take my place
For the chance to behold your face.
James Woods has apparently split with his 20-year-old girlfriend. He's 59. Apparently they don't have as much in common as he'd hoped, and by all accounts she was something of a shallow Hollywood Barbie and was dating him to advance her career.
If I was dating a girl 39 years younger than I was, I'd probably be arrested. Dating preschoolers isn't legal in this state, at least I don't think it is. Then again, I don't know a lot of 20-year-olds that would use me to advance their careers. Hell, I don't even know any that would exploit my weakness for the flesh to get their washing machine fixed. Maybe I need to hang out with a lower class of people.
Fuck all that. It's friday. You get the ankles, and I'll get the wrists.
Purple cabbage and peanut butter, cucumbers and red pepper. I got my serious party on, baby! Raise the mizzenmast and unfurl the sails, we're goin' on a long sea voyage!
But first, I must floss.
I feel sparkly today. As much as I would like to attribute that to pretty much anything, I'm thinking that it's mostly because of the Claritin-D that I took this morning. Benadryl makes me groggy and lumpy, but the pseudoephedrine is a much happier and awake-and-able-to-breathe thing. Combined with the dextromethorphan hydrobromide to counter the coughing, and I am on like lightning, sweets. Add a fifth of rum, and I could either be the life of the party or a raging confrontational asshole, I'm not sure which.
It's been a crunchy week. And not the kind of crunchy that you get with a handful of lightly roasted Chex Mix, but the crunchy that you get when you're eating rice and realize that it's been infested with cockroaches and you just bit one in half and it's still wiggling in your mouth. That kind of crunchy.
I need the blowing off of steam, I need the pleasures of the flesh, I need to wipe my mind asunder of all of the crap that's built up over this past week. I need debauchery and playfulness.