sweasel.com

That’s better. I’d thought that the weasel had stayed awake all night partying….

However, now I can sing to the children:

“Hush, my darlings, my precious darlings,
The weasel sleeps tonight this weekend”

The British half of Team Weasel saw a real, live stoat run across the road today. Second time ever. The first was a couple of weeks ago.

It’s an omen. I’m sure of it.

Remember – when surrounded by morons, walk softly and carry plenty of bright, shiny trinkets. It’ll distract ’em for hours, allowing you to make good your escape.

Another alternative is to toss a case of Value-rite vodka into the herd. Then wait.

My backup plan is to shout, “look! Mary Katharine Ham!” and then book it out the back door.

That’ll work, Weas’.

I think I’ll stay home tonight and abuse leftover opiates.

OhhhhhhH! Shiny Trinkets!!! Where?

Have fun Stoaty.

Just remember, they are more afraid of you than you are of them. Just watch out for the guy in cowboy boots and Texas flag shirt. And the guy with no body hair. Oh, and the hunchback. And wear underwear. You’ll be fine.

You’re just trying to make me feel bad, Lokki – using those boldy things so casually and successfully. I never mastered bold. You might say I flunked boldly. I’m a bold flunky.

I can do italics ok, though. There is that.

Pup – I’m terrified for Weas….lion’s lair and all that…

You know who you should be terrified for? Weasel’s liver. It’s half past drinking time already and I never drink and drive, so I’m going to have to…wait…until I…get home…

-=sob=-

Life is so unfair!
Saturday night and an un-abused liver!
There oughta be a law.

That was nearly a haiku, Weas, unintentionally.

First I’ve had in months. I was getting worried.

Maybe the Muse is going to resume wee’ing on my cerebrum again. ‘Bout time!

It can only be another sign.

Well, with Weasel Out and About tonight, its could be nothin’ but cricket-chirps here.

Smoke ’em if ya got ’em.

Steamboat –

Bold is easy! It’s all in the swagger. With that new bionic hip of your’s it will just take a little minutes pf practice and you’ll be the The Cock of the Walk .

You just have to show a little ego. Remember that you have “Greater than” and “Less than” characters on your keyboard, and that you have the ability to Slash /when things it’s deserved.

The letter “B” is for baby, but also for Bold. To control the power of Bold, you use the “Less than” and the “Greater than to contain the “B” – something like this {B}. To turn it off, you contain it again, and slash it’s little throat, dead – like this {/B}.

Easy as squeezing a pimple!

Easy as squeezing a pimple!

That’s kinda gross.

I was going to watch ‘Napoleon Dynamite’ with my daughter, but alas, her brother came home with a friend and they are watching ‘300’ instead. What to do, what to do?

Weasel has a secret!

Mesa, you bitch! Okay, okay…time to dust off the emergency graphic I’ve been holding in readiness for this hour.

Hey, you don’t have to share.

I won’t tell anyone.

Well played, by the way — if it’s true.

Nah. It’s a relief, really. I’ve been writing pronoun-free content for a year and it’s HARD. Particularly with a diarist sort of blog.

Anyhow, I have a confusing voice. I genuinely like guns and knives, but I’m agnostic on the topic of boobies. It was a natural just to keep mum.

I was wondering about that because you have never alluded to gender.

I did think that the t-shirts and the tennis shoes propped on the desk were a little small.

It doesn’t matter at all, it’s just interesting to know that the “voice” I applied in my head while reading your posts was a little off.

My husband and I had a bet going whether you were just a gay man. You love Mary Poppin and all those tea cups at your desk???? I am relieved.
P.S. He thought I had a little crush.

Heh. The sneakers were a P’shop job. The desk was mine, but I edited out my own feet because my sneakers looked way girlie. Equally grubby, but pointy-toed. The ones I ‘shopped in were guy sneakers, I think, but on a girl. I figured that wasn’t cheating. What the hell kind of weird veracity scale I’m dealing with here, I have no idea.

Lauraw, incidentally, is an improbably nice looking woman. Ace was trimmed and less ewokish than expected. Dave in Texas was, in fact, exactly the sort of genuinely nice guy you suspected he would be (if perhaps a little less Texan. He was born in Alabama. That shaves a few Texas points). Ummm…Spongeworthy is REALLY tall. Bart is built like a fireplug. Bostonian is also a chick (did I know that?). Ahhhh…Farmer Joe is not a farmer, but his name is Joe.

I’m remembering all I can here…

Seriously, Dawn…it was either gay or woman, wasn’t it?

I’m disappointed that I couldn’t make it. I was all set to go until real life intruded.

It would have been cool to meet everyone.

Seriously, I didn’t think gay. Maybe a bit eccentric for a guy, but you are an artsy type 😉 I live in a gay/eclectic community and see it all of the time, so it doesn’t really stand out to me.

Anyway, I just assumed. So, shame on me.

It also explains your relationship with your mother and your interest in the Princess.

It was a comedy of errors, which is how poets say ‘clusterfuck.’ The bar forgot about Ace’s reservation, so they sent half of us up a floor and half of us down a floor. Nobody recognized anybody, so this was a problem. Then Ace swept through the house, and everybody recognized him and followed him upstairs babyduckstyle.

We had to share the upstairs room with some guy whose name I forget who was having a birthday. Cake, candles and loud “huzzah!”s made this awkward. The bar was so apologetic about screwing up the reservation, they gave us several free pizzas and platters of chicken strips. This latter day miracle of loaves and fishes was only appreciated by the especially spiritual morons like myself.

As the evening wore on, they turned the music up one notch every fifteen minutes until talk was impossible. At this point, co-eds from the birthday party began to hop up and down to the music (the desired result, I’m thinking) and the die-hard geeks spilled into the street to smoke and talk politics. That’s right…the morons walked right past the jiggle.

Color me astonished and proud.

I wear Chuck Taylors everyday. They are asexual shoes.

asexual doesn’t mean what I thought it did. I meant genderless.

But…no, sweasel it never crossed my mind that you might be a girl. I am not that clever.

It’s gonna be tough refraining from the occasional “dude” remark and use of “he”.

Wait. Why should I reset my mind? What difference does it make?

Dawn put her finger on it for me: I never met a guy who had quite the relationship with his Mom that Weasel did. But I just figured “he” was gay.

Color me surprised too. I went with eccentric too.

Gay did cross my mind for a while, but Sweasel, I saw your comment at Ace’s and that was good enough for me. Not that it mattered. But no, I never considered la femme.

You carried it off in splendid fashion.