Windbag

There is this part of the tv show Deadwood where Calamity Jane wants to enter a building to talk to someone who is ill. The doctor screams: “BE BRIEF!” and Calamity Jane doesn’t even hesitate to yell back at him “BE FUCKED!”

This is one of my all-time favorite pieces of dialogue, ever.

Today is busy. So I shall be breif. If I don’t, I’m fucked.

Record-breaking rainstorm. With winds clocked up to 70 miles an hour. And for drippy stormy Seattle, that is saying something. The coziness felt in our bed when we are awakened by howling loud ass winds at 2am is sort of off the charts.

A family member (who would kill me if I identified them in any way, shape or form) got out of a scary week long stay at the hospital. I feel like I can exhale a little now.

I had major practice at Being the Bigger Person over the weekend. Like, more than I think I have ever had to do in my life. It’s hard, dudes. Super hard. But I did it. I am not entirely sure it was worth it, but I am hoping. And am fairly sure that if I was a drinker, I would be sauced right now to get over the whole mess.

Got a call from The Soggy Librarian whose house was leaking from top and bottom. Nordic Boy went to take a look. Their house was totally being a dick to them, was his professional opinion.

Had sushi with Jenny, the co-star of the water weenie story. No weenies were handled during dinner, but we had non-weenie fun.

Woke up Nordic Boy from a dream where he was in a fight. It went like this:

Me: Hey! Hey! Wake up! It’s ok. You’re ok.
Him (still sort of asleep): Stupid fucking chickens!
Me: What were the chickens doing?
Him: STARTING shit.

That’s all I got time for, cousins.

Oh yeah. Take a lookee loo at this cute poster. Just because.

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