Booger Foul

(Notice: no picture due to the graphic nature of this post.)

I'm busy making black boogers. All day long, that's what I do, I mean, that's what I'm doing. Sure I'm chopping, trimming, raking, tarping, dumping, sweeping, etc. but that's all sand in my noyster. And every evening in the shower, with the aid of a Iranian water inhalation ceremony, out come the pearls ... black and beautiful. Sometimes I wonder what boogers the other estate-members/dirty-ponchos are making this break. I'd guess

David's making sun-burn boogers – flakey, red, hard.

Cody's making book boogers – sterile.

Alban's making the same boogers George Washington made – Alban'd have to tell you what they're like, he and G-Wash are boos.

Phil's making janitorial boogers – think "vacuum-bag contents" ... in a booger.

It's the truth, and the truth isn't always pretty. But if blogs aren't willing to call it as it's played then they shouldn't be reffing – black, white, salty.

Cherry Pie

David got into Law school.

So when it came time for family dinner this week, I gave him a call from the grocery store.

David, attempting to sound bored: What?
Alban: What's your favorite dessert?
David: Cherry pie.
Alban: Ha ha ha ha. Stop joking. Nobody likes cherry pie.
Cody, simultaneously in background: What? Cherry pie? Nobody likes cherry pie!
David, deadpan: I like cherry pie.
Tommy, to Alban: Tell him to try again.
Alban, to David: Nope. Try again.
David, becoming annoyed: Seriously, I like cherry pie.
Alban: How about ice cream cake?
Cody, in background: Yes! He likes that!
David, simultaneously on phone: No, ice cream cake is gross.
Alban, to Tommy: Do you like cherry pie?
Tommy: Nobody likes cherry pie.

Later, at home.

Phil: What's this?
Alban: Cherry pie.
Phil, making a "what is that funky smell" face: Ugh. Nobody likes cherry pie.

from Wall through Hamper to Blog

There is a creature in our house,

it watches while we're sleeping.

And sometimes when we we're gone to class,

I think it might start creeping

around our beds and bathrooms

and through our dirty clothes,

but exactly who this creature is,

none of us really knows.

David thinks its friendly;

Cody thinks its not.

Alban claims "It's our neighbors cat,"

and Phil said that he caught

a piece of its genetics

in a petrie dish he grew.

He said "It is perhaps either

a monster, or a shrew."

But I am still a skeptic,

about high-tech reliance,

and about the critter in our house

being defined by science.

I think it's far too smart for that,

I think it's far too clever,

I think it's Tinky Winky (just

disguised) in tight black leather.