the good life.

so, it's been a week and i'm just now getting around to reporting on our kanye-laced, fried-turkey filled, halo3-ridden, sneaky pie brown-attended thanksgiving extravaganza, which took place in the dirty-dirty rva, holla at your boy and/or girl. or don't, that part's not manditory.

to start out, charles williams flew us to richmond on tuesday night in just five hours or something(konichiwa, bitches!)...and i even got two bathroom breaks! it was awesome! we arrived just as the crew at the compound were waking/showering/getting ready for work... we rolled around with the puppies, hugged, kissed, looked at a.b.'s interesting cell-diagram-cakes that she was bringing into her 10th grade biology classes that day, and i cast a concerned eye at the handle of jim beam that peeked out of the recycling bin(note: this did not stop me from purchasing another handle of jimmy beam from the a.b.c. later on that day).

brain, alison, charles and i headed for the dormitory, a.k.a. pimp pad, to set up shop and get a bit of shut eye so we could, as kanye say(and kanye is soundtracking this whole thing, so get used to it), let the story begin...

brain kept charles and i awake by hitting one liner after one liner until we laughed ourselves into a delirious stupor and eventually fell asleep.

the pimp pad, for the record, kicked all sorts of ass. not only did we have loads of room and our own private bathroom, we also had the projector-screen x-box set up, which guaranteed that i fell asleep at least once to the sound of alison(the arbitor) and brain(master chief) killing a whole shit-ton of aliens at five in the morning. charles and ab also had their nba 2K7 rematch, which featured tony "the frenchy" parker-longoria versus t-mac-tacular "greatest video game basketball player of all time"tracy mcgrady. it was pretty fierce, as they say on project runway. there was also forza motorsport, and on friday night we turned the big screen into movie night and had a group viewing of oceans 13.

that was also the night that we pimp-padders neglected to realize that the heat in said pimp pad was on a seperate thermostat which we should have turned on. that night i fell asleep dreaming of penguins and being stranded in antarctica with no socks on, which i essentially was. it was a bonding experience though, and later on brain and i reminisced about when we used to live in the trust tree and the heat would stop working for days on end and we would just exist in this sort of icicle-esque fog of deep freeze. again, bonding.

other things that happened included thanksgiving! fried turkey! hell yeah!

lord turkeyfryer solidified her place in turkey frying history by presenting not one, but two perfectly fried turkey masterpieces. the first one she managed to do in the rain, and even while letting her neighbors dogs loose! that's an inside joke. the whole rain thing was taken care of by a tent from china, which was erected with the help of the entire thanksgiving day staff as you can see below. my fire phobia was somewhat exacerbated by the presence of a large nylon tarp wavering flimsily above a large vat of boiling oil over a considerable flame and large tank of propane, and i let this be known on a few different occasions, but eventually it was all good and a.b. just made fun of me for it for the rest of the evening. which was o.k. cause i beat her in poker, but we can discuss that later. here's said tarp, turkeyfrying apparatus and crew:

here's a picture of a.b. under the tarp, undoubtably in the process of telling me to can it. oh, and shockingly, brain is texting there in the background.

boomer came in as the first food coma of the evening. he pretty much got up from the table and went directly to this position. he awoke later, around two a.m. or so and drank a pbr.

unfortunately, i was so busy worrying about fire and then worrying about eating mass quantities of thanksgiving dinner, that i neglected to take a picture of all the fine kitchen action by sarah. i am still having dreams about the green bean cassarole.

so the turkey was awesome, so much so that we decided to have more on friday. yum.

what else? oh, yeah... well there is apparently this old lady who writes these mystery novels, or should i say she ghost writes them for her cat, who is named sneaky pie brown. and they take place in a town that only has like, 300 people, but someone's always trying to murder this chick rita mae brown, so ol' sneaky pie and her dog friend t.tyrod taylor(who is also the virginia tech quarterback along with sean glennon. go hokies!) have to bust up the murder plot before their moms gets offed. all the time. i know, it sounds far-fetched but it must be pretty compelling stuff, because everyone in the house was knee deep in sneaky pie brown books all weekend. in fact, it could be said, and i doubt there would be much argument, that sneaky pie brown and t.tyrod taylor were guests at this years thankgiving celebre. can we start calling it the annual turkey-fry? please? i will make t-shirts.

here's my moms, in the act of reading some sneaky pie brown, although you can't tell in this pic. you can tell that she's cute though!

there was a post turkey fry poker tournament, which i think should also probably become a tradition set in stone. what better time to sit on your ass and drink and make money than when you have recently consumed mad turkey? triptophan, son. here are some pictures of the poker playing, which ended with me KICKING EVERYONES ASS. and i can qualify that statement with the knowledge that, unlike my cohorts, i never once bought back in. SUCKERS.

lord turkeyfryer.

we couldn't immediately find charles a hat, so we went towel style on it.

master chief.

check the ill transformers decepticon hat. oh, and i know it looks like she drank a whole bottle of cuervo and then chased it with some beaujolias, but that's not what happened. i swear.

between alison brain charles and myself, we communicated using only kanye lyrics all weekend, as once again mr. west made an album that simply will not leave your head, no matter what. i have no doubt that if you were to call on any of the four of us right now to recite the kanye album front to back we could all do it without batting an eye. good morning.

what else. oh, right. i am going to move into the target store on forest hill road, and when it's time for meals, i will adjourn to the ukrops which is just down the sidewalk. if only i could transplant those two establishments to the alleyway behind my apartment. let's go on a livin' spree!

jees. writing this post has made me realize how much stuff we jam packed into four days! i haven't even gotten to the adoreablest family of all time, which is, naturally, the kels trey and shaela rose show. when i say that shaela spent 99.9% of the time smiling at everyone, i am not lying. she is the queen of the baby world, yo. check it.

will shaela have a little pal at next years turkey fry? maybe!!!

kels and trey are right up there with my favorite parents of all time, along with my moms and cw's m&d. you guys rule. we are plotting to steal your child, though. so watch out. look! here's where trey put shaela in a basket! word.

on our final day in rva, aside from watching trey put shaela in a basket, we also watched virginia tech kick uva's ass, which we were able to view thanks to jen's kind invitation to have us watch it in her living room. thanks jen!

finally, i am thrilled to report that i have finally met almost all of charles williams iii's family! at long last, i have met his grandma, aunts, adoreable cousins... the whole crew. it went really well, they are great and were so nice to me, they made me feel right at home and his grandma made sure i was well fed and comfortable. it was awesome, and we are both so relieved... i'm good. oh. and all i am going to say is that i got to see some early pictures of my love... adoreableness that i can not nearly describe adequately. there is something indescribably amazing about seeing where the person you are madly in love with came from, where they grew up and what they looked like while they were doing it.

i mean, really.

it's the good life, y'all.

oh, and alison, brain, charles... i just have one thing to say to y'all. ferrari...

stop looking at me, swan.

along with people sporting crazy eye and/or facial tattoos, i would like to submit a new category of folks who are unquestionably batshit insane: weirdos who feel like it's ok to leave napkin-notes for their waitress. if you find yourself doing this, or thinking about doing this(unless it's a phone-number-leaving situation, which is a whole other category we can discuss at a later date) you should take yourself to the nearest insane-asylum and check yourself in. for that is where you belong.

case in point: last evening, i waited on an older woman(maybe late forties?) who dined by herself. we had a nice repoire, i was definitely in nice-mode, if i do say so myself. she downed a king-sized straight-up margarita, and then, upon leaving, decided to leave me this napkin filled with her scrawl and a whole lotta baggage. apparently, she felt rejected by me because i didn't make eye-contact with her when i dropped off her change. i will now pause so that you can read that part again. good. now, the fact that i did make eye contact with her drunk ass is really incidental, what is important is that YOU SHOULDN'T BE LEAVING DRUNK NOTES FOR STRANGERS. you just shouldn't do it. it's a bad plan. you have chosen poorly. please leave the restaurant and never come near me again, lest i feel the need to file for a restraining order. fucking weirdo.

oh, please do note the part that says i was "awesome". ah...crazy drunken spinsters. whatever shall we do with them?

little duffel bag boy

this is for alison:

check it out here!

thursdays rule!

thursday is the day we get to babysit for shaela, who is, as prince sang "the most cutest ba-by in the world"... she's awesome. it's really hard to leave at the end of the day! this time, we got on the N train to go home and about two stops in, cw turned to me and said "ok. let's go back and get shaela." for real!

rockin' the ill comb-over!

here's s. rose, baby genius. she's thinking aerodynamics at the moment.

sometimes milk makes you drunk, see...

i wish every day was thursday!

brilliant

i present to you, the hipster olympics. awesome.

a distorted reality is now a necessity...

look, here's a clip of barack obama dancing like an idiot(or worse, like a total herb) on ellen. way to set all sorts of people back like twenty years there, barack. awesome. can't we get anyone, anyone to take seriously? instead our choices for leader of the free world are evil bigots, or dudes that dance like your mom breaking it down to sister sledge at the family reunion after a few too many glasses of white zinfandel, and who do it on national t.v. christ.

hey, remember ralph nader? wow. there's an idea.

help! we've no plausible candidate for the presidency!

as for that clip (cringe), i think it's funny how he starts to "dance" while he's still coming down the stairs, and then he stops, almost as if he's like "i should'nt do this, i look ridiculous(this phrase is better if you say it like dave chappelle when he's doing the white news caster guy)" but then he chooses very poorly, and after a quick jab at the speed bag(? doesn't anyone know what that's doing there?) he re-up's his confidence and proceeds to the family reunion with moms. ouch.

come on people! we are knee deep in a war we never should have started, our domestic situation is best classified as dire on a good day, our constitution has doubled as toilet paper for the past 7 years, our enviornment is crumbling around us, our personality on the world stage can be compared to that of nelson from the simpsons, and this is what our candidates for the presidency occupy their campaigns with? well, that and smearing their fellow same-party candidates over total bullshit. help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kanyeezy

hey, kanye west has a blog, and it's great. so very kanye being kanye. check out halloween style here.