This is a video on the New York Times website about water contamination by coal companies. I went to high school with the lady featured in the video and she lives about 5 miles from where I grew up. Very sad, folks. Very sad.
Have you ever been in a situation where someone has told you something and finished with, “I thought you should know.”? Yeah, that’s where I found myself today.
Its one of those situations that is rather upsetting and I know that it was kept from me with the best of intentions, so as not to upset me or even embarass me. However, I would have rather known sooner than later that Jace has been exhibiting unsavory behaviors in his new position at a location other than mine, which he went to right after he dropped out of my life.
I had long suspected that the reason for him dropping out of my life was to pursue those more nubile, and you may read into that, more stupid, more needy, and less worldly than myself, in his new position. However, those pursuits have turned to harassment. Such a no-no. What a schmuck. His schmuckish behavior is guaranteed to earn him a permanent disownment from our restaurant family.
Being told of this situation has caused a wealth of emotions to rise. Disgust, disappointment, and my general indifference has given way to loathing. I also threw my hands in the air and wondered, “WHY AM I SUCH A SCHMUCK MAGNET???” Especially considering I have a tendency to attract schmucks, I thought I had been doing a better job of weeding them out and yet another creeps through the cracks.
Its a damn good thing he dropped out of my life when he did because if I were still dating him, it wouldn’t be pretty AT ALL. As it is, I want to knock him out.
Anyway, I was lamenting my schmuck magnet status to Nate on the ride home and he was kind enough to tick off my ex-boyfriends, starting with his father, who Nate calls the Biggest Schmuck of Them All and worked his way past Ex-Drunk Boyfriend – who’s doing 70 years on a rape/attempted murder charge, then I brought up Lex, who Nate didn’t even know I was seeing, then or now, who really isn’t so much a schmuck as he is just … more strange than even I can tolerate, and a couple of other alcoholics that came and went as fast as they came.
Then Nate said, “Oh yeah, and Mike.” Finally! Redemption! On a much grander scale than Lex. Whoo hoo! Nate said, “Mike was cooool.” I agreed and added that our relationship didn’t end because he was a schmuck, it ended because we lived too far apart and, frankly, we just weren’t made for each other. Not that he isn’t a great guy, because he is, and probably THE greatest guy I’ve ever dated so far, but he just wasn’t the guy for me, nor was I the girl for him. He married her last year.
I remember the first time I heard through the Blogger Gossip Network that he was dating his fair Adelphia and I went over to her blog. I knew within a minute of reading that she was The One. I sent him an e-mail and told him to just give it up and ask her to marry him because… SHE WAS THE ONE! It made him pretty sour with me at the time. I understood why. You know, everything’s going great and you’re really into them but at the same time you’re afraid and you don’t want to get your hopes up.
And yes, I smiled with genuine warmth, and then grinned with a smug satisfaction when they announced their engagement that … I WAS RIGHT! And, if you’re followers of their blogs, then you and I both know that these two people are right where they should be.
At one point, I had written about another of my ex’s, probably Lex, as he, like Mike, is the only one with redeeming qualities. Mike had mentioned that he wondered, eventually, how he would be remembered and he hoped I would be as kind to him as I was to Lex. I told him it quite possibly could take a while and it has.
Mike is the best reminder that there are still kind, caring, intelligent, passionate, witty guys out there. And also a good reminder that I haven’t just dated schmucks.
Are when Nate and I see our respective counselors. I like both of our counselors. They’ve given me a lot of insight and hope into our situation but that doesn’t mean its fun getting there. It never is.
Nate is very open to counseling but the things they have coaxed out of him so far are disheartening. Disheartening for a parent who cannot see into the mind of their 12 year old and find all of the feelings they have stuffed down inside of it and the realization that we have so far to go.
Having been through counseling before, and being in counseling now, I know how much it hurts to dig shit up, to face it, and to deal with it appropriately. My heart aches for my son.
Nate and I both learned, over a period of time, not to express any emotion in front of Jeff. To do so, opened us both up to ridicule. Nate maintains that facade and he maintains that facade emotionally as well. He doesn’t talk about his father but I know he’s still there, in the back of his mind.
While Nate can maintain that facade while he is awake, he cannot when he sleeps. Although his father’s name was not mentioned, I could tell the counseling started roiling the bottom of Nate’s pond. It wasn’t unusual for Nate to talk in his sleep and wet the bed after an episode with his father.
Thursday night, after he went to bed, right about the time he hit REM, I could hear him start chattering. I’ve heard him say “no” and “quit” and “stop” but for the most part, its mumbling. I had a very hard time getting to sleep myself, as my mind just refuses to shut up, hence the doctor’s appointment on the 16th. Somewhere around 3 a.m. I was jolted awake by Nate yelling and as the fog in my mind cleared, I heard him mumbling again.
A short time later, Chico woke me with his whine/bark asking to be let into my bed. As I reached over the side of my bed, I heard Nate say, “Don’t pick him up, ” from the bathroom across from my bedroom. I did anyway and Nate asked where some clean underwear were and I heard him rummaging around in the dark, then he entered my room, I thought to retrieve Chico, but he laid down at the foot of my bed and went to sleep.
I had a dream later that morning about Jeff calling. I heard his ringtone and actually answered the phone. The conversation was benign, almost surreal. I don’t remember much of it, but remembered thinking in the dream that he didn’t ask about Nate. Not surprising, the interpretation for talking on a phone in a dream is that you need to confront issues you are trying to avoid, and to speak to someone you know, means that you need to confront that person.
I figured that out as soon as I woke up. Didn’t really need an interpretation.
I talked to my counselor about the other events in my life, separate from Jeff, that I’ve had to deal with, especially in the last two and a half years, starting with Kevin’s suicide in November of 2006, AZ’s engagement in December and, of course, the housefire. She asked, “How did you put one foot in front of the other?”
I answered, “Nate… and… that’s just how I am.” At least, that’s what I choked out between sobs.
She gave me, ha ha, writing assignments to be completed as we move through the process. She said, of course, that blogging and journaling is an excellent way to express my feelings. I had read on one of the news services that therapists were assigning patients to start blogs. Oh boy, I can’t wait! (Laugh, that was supposed to be funny.)
That reminds me of David Bowie (Jareth) from the movie, Labyrinth. If you haven’t seen it, he would say something mean around the little trolls and then he would say, “Well, laugh.” Then they would all laugh with him.
Nate’s grades, really not a laughing matter. He’ll either fail the 7th grade, or he may have to attend summer school. I’m prepared for either. His counselor has some theories about his poor school performance and what we can do about that. When I picked him up from school on Thursday, they were in the middle of their awards assembly.
When he came out I lightly asked him if he had gotten an award for the most days spent in lunch detention. He smiled and then I said I was sorry and he said, “No, that was actually pretty funny, M.” He said a little later, “I would like to get an award.” We talked about goals and that this year is over and there isn’t anything he can do about it now, so, he needs to look towards next year and about what he can do to achieve his goal of getting an award, for something, and not the most days spent in lunch detention.
I mentioned, as I have before, The Golden Horseshoe Test, which is given each year to WV 8th grade students to test their knowledge of WV History and I told him that he would be reading “Rocket Boys/October Sky” in conjunction with WV Studies. I told him I make sure we made it down to the October Sky Festival and help him study for the test.
Then I said, let’s just get through the next couple of days…
The weather is also no laughing matter. Its 58 degrees outside and I have my furnace on. ITS JUNE 6TH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!! Oh, its Troy’s birthday. Happy Birthday Troy!!! Its also Chris Robertson’s birthday (from Black Stone Cherry). Happy Birthday Chris!!!
I’m not working today, but I’m still working. I’m catering a tea party for 10 five year olds and their mothers. Yes, I know, its five year olds, ten of them, and their mothers, but I need the money and its only three hours… I look to the fact that I found a BEAUTIFUL dress at a local department store that fits not only waist but my bosoms as well. This, this an anamoly and I have to capitalize on that.
So is my life today.
Sometimes things are just right down interesting at the restaurant. We do get to have our little brushes with celebrity although not on the noise level of Chelsea Clinton visiting. However, Rosie served one of the Osmond clan and a former child star on Sunday night. She was the daughter on “Give Me A Break” with Nell Carter, so you can Google that if you wish.
On MondayI had my own brush and probably was the only one in the restaurant who would have given two shits that it was this particular man who found his way into my section. He was an older gentleman and one that I was fairly certain I had met before. However, as we all know, putting a finger on that particular memory can be daunting.
He was a huge cut-up and kept making me laugh and I kept wondering who the hell he was. As I made another pass, I noticed he had laid his business card on the table and I read his name – Roy Lee Cooke.
Because I’m shy, I slammed my ass in the booth across from him, next to one of his lunch companions and asked, “Where are you from?”
He grinned and said, “MACKDowell County.” (McDowell, for the rest of us.)
I smiled and said, “You’re a rocket boy.”
He smiled and nodded. See, I knew I had met him before, probably 9 or 10 years earlier at the annual October Sky Festival in Coalwood, WV. He asked about my trip there and I reminded him that was the year is was blue cold and Homer Hickam’s press agent or some such gent had gotten a little too close to the kerosene heater and set himself on fire.
I told him how saddened I was to lose my signed “October Sky” copy in my housefire and he said, “Well, come on down, we’ll get you another one. I’ll even get the dead one’s signature for you.” OMG! He was referring to Sherman Siers, who passed away in the mid 70’s. The gentleman sitting with Roy Lee asked how he planned on doing that.
Roy Lee said, “Because I’ll sign for him!”
No, it probably wasn’t polite to laugh, but I did anyway. He gave me his business card and extracted a promise from me to return to Coalwood for this year’s festival. Since Nate will be simultaneously reading “October Sky” and taking WV Studies next year, it will be a very educational trip for him. He swears he remembers going to Coalwood, but, I’m not quite sure and besides, he was only three or four at the time.
I haven’t read “October Sky” for a few years, probably two, since I made a habit of picking it up and reading it to remind myself that when you have a dream, a few friends willing to pick you up, dust you off, and get in trouble with you, it doesn’t matter where you’re from or your circumstances, you can achieve great things.
The annual October Sky Festival is on October 3rd this year, so make your travel plans now. I would be happy to provide an escort to Coalwood, which is somewhere between BFE and the end of the Earth. Just to give you an idea of how far out it really is, the nearest point from Coalwood to an Interstate is 40 miles.
If you’d like to make a weekend of it, we could head down Highway 16 and across 83, through the town named after my forefathers, and over to Jolo and The Church of the Lord Jesus, one of the few Pentacostal churches in America where they speak in tongues, drink poison, and handle snakes.
We could also visit War, WV, the southern-most incorporated city in WV. It has 15 churches and 1,000 residents and since only about 40 % of the population attends, well, that’s about 26 people per service. Hey, no line at the baptismal, unless of course they’re a particular kind of Baptist that only believes in baptizing in the river.
My grandparents believed that you could only be baptized in the river, until they got a baptismal at the church. I guess ya gotta have a backup plan. If you feel enough spirit to be layed out in the Coal River in January, well, have at it.
Anyway, back to Coalwood. Also in the vicinity is the Berwind Wildlife Management Area, perfect for campers, fishermen, hikers, and hunters.
And that’s about all there is. So, mark your calendars, pack the Dramamine (if you don’t know what a switchback is, you’ll learn), and join me in Coalwood on October 3rd.
We all had a great time at King’s Island. We rode Firehawk at night, which is the one that you lay down on and it flips you upside down and around and you feel like you’re flying. It was AWESOME!
Cam said he liked Vortex the best, and Nate liked Diamondback. Rosie cracked me up all day long, Collective Soul sounded great, the lines weren’t too long, we got soaked on White Water Canyon, and a nice sunburn. I thought I had dislocated my shoulder on Son of Beast but it stayed in place. I slept most of the day, including during a huge thunderstorm. I had a small lake in my hallway from the damaged shingle on my roof, but otherwise, it was a great weekend.
I did text with Lex in between all of that. He’s not doing so well today. I know him well enough that I expect this to continue for a while. Even though we’re only supposed to be “friends with benefits,” I wonder if he’s even ready for that. Hell, its a great thought, don’t get me wrong.
But, even great thoughts are not ideal thoughts. Lex is a lot like me. Even though the desire to have sex is there, its a desire to have sex with one particular person, not just anyone. Not saying that I’m “just anyone,” just admitting that I’m not “that particular person.” I fall somewhere in the middle. Actually, so does he.
I know that ache. Its the worst sort of paradox that the one who you normally go to for comfort is the one causing the pain and you have no where to turn. He didn’t know how right he was when he said that I would understand what he was going through.
He meant that by what we had gone through with AZ long ago with a crazy chick (chronicled in The Fourteen Years War posts), but as he doesn’t know, but all of you do, I understand more of where he is just from what happened with AZ. Something he doesn’t know and doesn’t need to know.
Hell, I don’t even want to know.
Maybe if Lex figures it out he’ll let me know.
Five years ago I was dating Lex and didn’t have any idea what a blog was until he sent me a link to one. Directly following that link, I started Anything Goes.
Now, five years later, I still have Anything Goes and Lex is still around as well.
Lex text-messaged me right as things were going really south with Jace. His love life had gone south as well and said he knew I would understand, better than anyone, that sense of betrayal. No shit, Sherlock.
So, we talked. We texted. We really suck at relationships but damn, we had some great sex. So, we’re going to have more of it. I have a lot of great memories of Lex and being where I am right now emotionally, I really understand where he was emotionally five years ago.
More later. I have an eye infection and I’m very sensitive. Take care.
I worked three doubles, back to back to back. Today, my day off, I have spent the morning with Nate at his school. I will return this afternoon. I’ve wondered since when teaching entails turning on a video, giving out a worksheet, and then sitting at your desk drinking coffee and eating a danish, especially when there is to be no food in the classroom. One teacher explained that she didn’t have time for breakfast. The other teacher told me she was as grumpy as nine bears. Wonderful learning environment!
I have to get my hair trimmed. Nate will be getting his hair cut.
Jeff sent me an e-mail informing me he had not seen Nate his last two scheduled visitations and if he misses another one he will be filing contempt of court charges. I haven’t responded, I’m not sure I will. Let him. I’ll counterfile for full custody and no visitation. Can I counterfile for Jeff not being able to actually have visitation because he was too drunk or angry? I mean, if he can file contempt charges because I don’t let him see Nate, why can’t I file contempt charges for him being too drunk or angry to exercise his visitation rights on more than one occasion?
I knew I should have categorized all of my old posts. Now, I’ll spend an incredible amount of time compiling the long, long list of the things that have happened over the past five years. Yes, on May 27th, I will have been blogging for five years. Long time, a lot of words.
There’s even things I remember but didn’t put onto paper. Like, in May of 2007, Jeff was carted off by the State Police for harrassing them about his daughter. What I didn’t write down, was how he told me he wanted to kill her mother by slitting her throat and while she was gurgling and drowning in her own blood he was going to shit down her throat. He was very descriptive.
Rock n Rolllllllllllll!
My sparkling white shoulders got a liberal dose of sunlight today. Nate, my dad, and I went morel hunting. That’s molly moojers to all you Appalachian folks. We found 132. Last year, my dad found over 3500 during the season. Rightfully so, and at $10 an ounce (dried), my dad is very protective over his mushroom patch. He put up pink ribbons over the roadway leading to the patch so the loggers wouldn’t disturb them.
Guess what? They disturbed them. Morels grow from a spawn under the ground which can stretch for quite a distance and while they need warm temperatures and some sunlight, they actually grow better in heavily wooded areas, especially around the towering poplar trees, beside of rotting logs, and will push their way through heavy leaf cover. My dad filed a claim with the logging company. If he doesn’t get any mushrooms out of the area where they logged, he could be compensated. Its almost the equivelant of disturbing a ginseng patch.
Nate was not so enthusiastic about morel hunting and finally wandered off the mountain. My dad and I combed the road and mountainside from several angles. When I say “road” I mean a gas road, or just an old logging road that is still passable but covered with grass and leaves. We found several just by walking down the road, several sticking out of the hillside, and some big black ones that I spotted from several yards away.
When morel hunting, you really have to work at it. You have to go over the same area because they will be hiding in the leaves or behind logs and if you’re going up the mountain you may miss them, but find them on your way back down. My dad would be above me and say, “Whooo, I see one, right there, five inches ahead of your stick.”
From my angle I couldn’t see it, but from his angle he could. At one point my dad was bending down to pick one up and I said, “Dad, there’s one right beside of your shoe.”
My dad is funny. Everytime he found one he would say, “Whooo.” For the record, that’s about 75 “Whoos” today. Often he would have several “whoos” in row because once you find one, you two or three or seven, like we did today.
Even though its early in the season and the black morels fruit first, I did find a few of the grey morels, which fruit second. Yellow morels fruit last in the season. A word of caution, if you think you’ve got a morel but there are wisps of cottony fibers in it, DON’T EAT IT! Morels are completely hollow on the inside. Always, always, always, soak your morels and cut them in half before eating them.
I stole this picture, as you can tell. But, a lot of the morels we found look just like this one. We roll them in cornmeal, fry ’em and serve them with pinto beans and cornbread. YUM!
My dad and I had a great time and I’m looking forward to going again very soon, hopefully this week. However, it was 79* today and its supposed to be 29* by tomorrow night with snow showers. This really sucks. Right now there’s a big thunderstorm heading in so I have to go close the windows and get ready for bed. Have a great night.
After the death of his wife Betty, Hoss wrote: “Many times in the past when some of you were having a particularly bad time, Old Hoss has offered “counsel,” which consisted largely of this: When you can’t do something about something, let it go. Say to yourself, “So it goes,” and get on with your life. So, so it goes. Thank you, all.”
Yes, Hoss, so it goes. There isn’t a damn thing I can do about you moving on up to Big Ernie and I hope you at least got to say hi before you reincarnated as a dung beetle. I will always be kind to dung beetles.
And, as it goes, I also wanted to post a picture of a rabbit, even though it isn’t the first of the month.
Hoo boy, Hoss would have loved this BIG OLE BUNNY!
I’m also posting a picture of a frog:
But not just any frog, but a Spring Peeper. Someone had claimed to hear one the other day when it was 16* and I though they were shitting me, but, on the way home Sunday, before finding out about Hoss, I too heard the Spring Peepers. However, it was 70*, not 16*. I have been looking forward to Spring a great deal and was so pleased to hear their peeping and croaking. They say that in Alzheimer’s patients, the last part of the brain to die is the part that recognizes music and the emotions they are attached to.
Hoss may have passed on March 7th, but I know each year when I hear the Spring Peepers and their music, I will know this is the day he moved on to Big Ernie.
And so it goes.
Nate has sinusitis. I took him to the doctor yesterday, my day off, and they gave him ginormous horse pills for his nose. He is also coughing and feverish.
Jirachi went to the vet yesterday afternoon, my day off, and his ass is healing very well. They clipped some more hair off so it doesn’t get stuck in the antibiotic ointment. The vet says we have to wait until his balls and scrotum heal so he can get them cut out. Thinking about that statement makes my eyeballs wrinkle.
Tango escaped from the house, right after Macy did. When I wasn’t at some kind of doctor’s office I was walking the neighborhood, on my day off, trying to find Tango, as I knew Macy was on a short hunger strike, for whatever reason, under my house.
This morning I filled out an online missing pet form with our local humane society. It read something like: Lost in —- block —– Ave., Small WV Town, black cat, green/yellow eyes, answers to Tango. Loves feet, please call ###-####.
He does love feet, loves to rub on them, then loves to chew and bite on them.
I pressed “send,” walked outside onto the porch, hollered his name, heard his little Tango “barrupp” and there he was. He couldn’t decide whether to eat breakfast or love on my feet. I went back to the computer and penned a note to the Humane Society.
“Hi, this is Nanner. I just sent a missing pet form regarding a black cat named Tango in Small WV Town. He obviously knew this because he came home. Thanks anyway. ”
I have felt like a new woman since the sun has been out and we have changed the clocks. I feel – rejuvenated.
I’m not sure if I remember telling anyone but I stepped down from my lead position at the restaurant so I could work more bar shifts and evening shifts. This is a good exchange. However, I was supposed to work just two bar shifts a week and that lasted about two weeks, and now its three or four. Which is, hey, fine with me!
However, I went to buy some new work pants, which I never do unless I have to because I hate shopping. However, a lady who had come into the restaurant had a really cool pair of pants on and was kind enough to tell me where they were on sale at the local mall. Anamoly No. 1: So, even without needing them, I went to get a new pair of those pants.
Since I hate shopping, I just generally guess at what size I need and then deal with it. I haven’t tried on clothes since Christmas of 2007 when I bought my last pair of jeans. Anamoly No. 2: I actually tried the pants on before buying them. Naturally, I got the size I thought I wore and when I could put both hands down the front of them thought… hmmmm… maybe I need a smaller size.
Yes, I had the joy of going shopping and finding I had dropped a pants size. I think this is due to the extra bar shifts and I will admit, I have been trying to eat healthier. I took one of those online test thingies about nutrition and found… well, I don’t eat so healthy. I love fruit and veggies but they are seriously lacking in my diet. I eat may too much red meat, which is likely to continue, and not enough fish or chicken.
I’ve just been making some small changes and being more conscious about what I’m eating. But make no mistake, I still eat what I want. For instance, I decided to eat at Wendy’s this evening because Nate had already eaten with his dad and in line with my new nutrition outlook, I ordered the side salad (which isn’t THAT healthy since it has iceberg lettuce versus the darker, more healthy lettuce/spinach) with a side of mandarin oranges, plus a baked potato with butter and sour cream and one of their strawberry shakes.
So, I got my starch and dairy, my fruits and veggies, and ice cream, which you all should know IS a food group. I had 1/2 a steak burger at the restaurant so I’d had enough meat for the day.
I made a crap-ton of money today, even I was shocked. Now I can buy more fruits and vegetables.
I’m so happy it is Springtime!
* What the hell? Some peeps came in for lunch today and ordered a salad and burger split and then told me they had already eaten but wanted to try us out. Who the fuck goes to a restaurant when they’re not hungry so they can “try you out?” Come hungry, fucknuts.
* There’s this guy that comes in who is just hawt. He’s got more money than God, but he’s still hawt. He’s also very sweet. He offered to let me stay at his place in Wyoming if I ever made it out that way. My mind went in all kinds of bad, bad places. He’s one of those long tall guys that make you wonder if his penis will look small because he’s so tall. I can’t help it.
* Nate and Jace had a confrontation the other night. My son was trying to act like a man and my boyfriend was acting like a 12 year old. Wyoming anyone?
* I’m hoping my bud Beanie can go with me to Rock on the Range. Then I’ll have someone to hold my place while I pee and I’ll hold her place while she pees, but then my luck would be that she would meet some hot rocker in the piss line and spend the rest of the day getting laid while I suffer, sweaty, gross, and with a full bladder pressed up against the barricade. I wouldn’t blame her. This is why we’ve been friends for 25 years.
* Brown sugar and cinnamon Poptarts and Kahlua go well together. At least if you drink enough Kahlua.
* I get a buzz from the muscle relaxers in Midol.
* When my cat sneezes, I wipe his nose with a tissue just like a baby, otherwise he eats his snot, which grosses me out. I try not to think about all the snot he eats while I’m at work.
* My new co-worker was telling me about his weight loss in anticipation of an upcoming cruise. In passing he had mentioned Cher or something and was really nosy about the Assistant Manager Intern leaving. When he flipped his hand out and said, “Yeah, I’m gay,” I said, “You? Drama queen? Whoda thunk it?”
* Poptarts are the easiest food on Earth. I don’t even have to read the directions on the carton anymore.
* Do you put milk in your oatmeal? I put milk in my oatmeal to cool it off before eating. I’m thinking Kahlua might be good in oatmeal. Yeah, why don’t they make better flavors of oatmeal, like White Russian, B-52, Kahlua and Cream, or yeah baby, MARGARITA! If they can make Key Lime Pie yogurt, they can make Margarita flavored oatmeal. Or beer even, like Amberbock. I don’t suppose milk would go well with Amberbock flavored oatmeal and I have to have milk in my oatmeal. Damnit.
* I’m waiting for an opportunity to say, “Swing on this.” Its an Alice song and I just like it. I guess I would have to hang out with trapeze artists or monkeys to have that opportunity. Yard apes don’t count.
* Nate wanted me to watch a movie with him and I couldn’t because all of the characters sound like the dude from “Saw” who is also the dude who was Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs. “It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” Nofuckingway!
* Tango is following me around because when I went outside to retrieve more Poptarts from the car, he licking out of my Kahlua and milk glass. I thought following me to the bathroom was bad, now he wants my alcohol.
* “Jar of Flies” and “Facelift” are my favorite Alice CDs. I knew you wanted to know that.
* I love men with facial hair. I liken this back to the fact my father used to grow a full beard for hunting season and you know, my daddy is one of my most favoritest people in the world. One time we went to New Orleans to visit my aunt and my daddy SHAVED HIS BEARD while we were there. No one remembered to tell me. When he stepped out of the bathroom I didn’t recognize him and screamed bloody murder. All I knew was that my daddy went into the bathroom and some strange facial-hairless dude came out.
Jerry looks hawt with a beard.
And I wouldn’t run screaming if he came out with a goatee…
(Nom, nom, nom) Nor clean shaven…
I’m flexible that way. Especially when its Jerry and Jerry is Lord of the Riff. They’re previewing bites from the new album over at aliceinchains.com. Its like a horseshoe to the brain. And because I wouldn’t want you to leave me, I’ve included some videoclips here.
Lord of the Riff…
Lots of facial hair goodness…
And this is just funny.
Now you can leave.