What the fuck, people?
No seriously, I realized, upon having to create some fabulous homemade pasta salad that called for it just the other day, that I have no idea what the fuck is up with broccoli.
I don�t like it so never in my adult life have I purchased it, let alone have I had to fucking chop it up to bits into some tasty concoction for the masses.
I mean, really. I like all sorts of other greens just swell. But put a head of broccoli in front of me and all the sudden George Sr. and I have something in common which truth be told I don�t like to admit that sort of thing � but trying to even cut that stuff to feed people and it�s like a nuclear blast of tiny green bits of nuclear natiness in my kitchen and I am not having it.
But I managed. And the masses who like to get competitive about picnic dishes loved it, so really who am I to complain?
Ok, so how are you?
Me? I am just trying to update before I go on my super top secret trip which really isn�t all that exciting but must remain super top secret for many reasons.
So, before I go, I thought I�d give y�all a shout out in a drunken got to keep backspacing and backspacing to keep up with my Weiss influenced fingers to spell things correctly kind of fashion,
And sadly, I�ve not much to update other than trying to chop broccoli was such a recent struggle I felt it necessary to bitch about.
Oh� and apparently all the ladies of the world have been watching some sort of cable teevee show called Sex and the City where some sassy 7k a month in rent paying lady poured some lethal concoction called a Flirtini which, in theory is probably a tasty treat that combines vodka, champagne and pineapple juice which is probably satisfying and refreshing to all you hard alcohol drinking people o� the world but managed to kick my ass after two tiny glasses which is unprecedented in the normally ann-frank heavy six pint dark beer drinking world.
I mean, what I am saying, is at a recent get together, something called a Flirtini kicked my normally beer drinking ass.
A Flirtini y�all.
ann-frank doesn�t go down like that.
That�s all I�m saying.
That and I am really really tired is all. From many things.
But you don�t worry yourselves. All I need some really great road music *, then eventually time to read some trashy books and a comfortable bed with a soft downy mattress laid out on a sleeping porch for me with the earth spinning stars and crickets and rustic breezes and all that bullshit telling me to calm down and just enjoy myself
I�ll see y�all then, huh?
thanks for the CD you musical Johnny Appleseed it�s a nice addition to the summah trip.