you may be right

you may be right,
chris,
when you say you're only interested in the blogs that reflect my day.
something that may have a glimmer of you in it
so you can put the two side by side and compare.
it's like looking through a batch of photos and hoping for one of you
to see if that's how you remembered it,
if that's what you really looked like.
altho i needed to say what i said yesterday
because i was feeling it,
i think this is more important.

i can't forget yesterday's scoops game--
we taught blake how to play for god's sake:
chris gave him some fine tips using masturbation analogies.
he caught on rather quickly
and i was almost ashamed i hadn't thought of it:
it's all in the wrist.
scoops is an 8 pm game, huh?
well it worked out fine at 1130pm last night.
i finally worked up a little sweat
which i generally hate doing unless i'm met with a pretty sweet payoff.
xfiles for four hours and vanilla-basil mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy--
blake's new speciality.
and i, glutton, wanted more after i'd had the first taste--
altho i have to say, our appetizer was also an appetite stimulant.
this is what you missed yesterday--
that, and finishing off with some Canlit (again).

au jourd hui
making lists for what to take to the wedding, and i dumbly left it in my apron.
tonight we four were like worker bees (but not like the any colony in my kitchen)
i made muffins
emily painted her toenails
e: this is anatomically impossible
b: no man, no it's not. i'll show you but i'm making muffins now.
*she assumes a better position
e: how many coats do i need?
c : three
b: well, you need an initial primer coat, one, but probably two coats of your colour, plus another clearcoat on top, for protection.
e: well, after that speech, you are never allowed to make fun of me again.
b: (in thought) touche'
and she grated me 1.5 cups of carrots for my muffins
and chris made hummus so fucking good i wanted to fuck either him or the hummus or both or say him covered in hummus.
i dig the garlic--
i'd be a vampire, but i love garlic too much.
and oh yeah, greg is home, so he got working on the wedding card after he got finished air-drumming to Rush. I threatened to turn it off.
we became a cutting factory, emily and i, so much so that greg couldn't keep up.
she made us stiff drinks (the way i like 'em) and our eyes got wasted so we took a break that ended up lasting an hour and consisted of greg and emily talking in the livigngroom (with a rope) and i and chris in the bedroom (with a candlestick) and we had lovely respective chats, then made fun of/admired the binder-shaped cooler with strap and everyone fell into bed (because tomorrow is day 1 of 3 of crazy liverpool wedding days) yet here i am here and i haven't even written in my paper journal yet. but now i just HAVE to.
and i will miss this blog while i am on the south shore, bub.