survival of the drunkest

That's it. No more. Had enough. Still alive after another sinful day of gift exchange. libations were ingested and bodily fluids were lost. it cost me over a c-note. AND somehow in the maelstrom, my passenger side door gets kicked? in. WTF?
but that patron shot from between Monique's tattooed tat tas was worth it.
now reality sinks in. Mom's bed won't come in until next week - putting a skiing trip at risk. don't feel like buying any gifts. I don't think I like Christmas that much. did I ever? what do Buddhists celebrate?

Mom's Labrynth

spending every other day at the storage looking for "things in boxes", poorly labeled in a packing haste. where is my brown basket with handles? my mickey mouse coffee cup? linen for the small bed from the front room?
each delivery renders the new abode closer to home.
every day she is busy with this or that or them and they.
every night she crawls into bed, grateful for another night of rest

less is more. things arrive, things are taken away. toilet seats, magical beds, miracle chairs, segues

turgid v flaccid int3erview questions

who would you put on the first rocket to mars?
who would you like to see as the next chancellor?
why is there air?
can kids fly?
do parents lie?
stop making sense!