Right,
Jesus was a Leprechaun
Dying on the Cross
Remember when..something something
Jesus was a Leprchaun
His name was Tiny Tom
He tried to have a little fun
(unintelligible high pitched electronic chorus, here)
Unforgettable solo guitar riff from Snakefinger, but okay, you've heard more than you want to about it. Man, I love this song.
So in a world where trying to have a little fun on the internet—or anywhere else—was interrupted by events best not mentioned—could be some in the room with weak stomachs—I'm back. You will be even more excited than I am about me transferring one of my domain names to this blog. That name would be Another Hundred Crimes. Just let me call Go Daddy right now and do it before I once again start cleaning my place to within an inch of its life. There's a photographer coming from Channing Realty on Wednesday to take pictures of the former home of the Hampshire School of Art. Best that any prospective buyers not see my piercingly insightful posts on Hard to Believe Sights Around the Neighborhood.
What the living room looks like since they hauled most of my stuff to storage
Wow, it's the Screaming Blue Messiahs. On my playlist, Yo!
So I'll soon be on the streets of Albuquerque with my video camera. (if the place doesn't sell, I'll be on the streets of Cambridge with my shopping cart and tin cup) Thomasin, Frankie and I will be podcasting our road trip from Boston to ABQ. I was talking to my dad, mentioned the podcasts. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to see these. I tried to explain it but he wasn't buying. He's right too. But that isn't something that will stop me.
Wondering why the living room looks so great? That would be Andrew Reid and Harold Brown of F.D.R. Construction, my two Jamaican friends who not only painted the walls, sanded the floors, fixed every damned thing that had fallen to pieces over the past 27 years—Harold even fixed my vacuum cleaner—but every day they brought a bit of Jamaica to Inman Square. Andrew's phone picks up radio stations from Jamaica. Things were jumping. My knees are wrecked. Harold brought exotic fruit drinks and, because he's a master-fisherman and cook, fish stew and seafood calzone-type sandwiches. His goal? To open a restaurant. I'm flying back here when that happens! So I'm making new business cards for them
F.D.R. Construction~from soup to nuts
Don't wait for the cards: Call them now: 617-319-9546
Call even if you don't need any work done. Seriously
Alls I have left to say is: No lo puedo creer.
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holy shit! this is NOT the room i remember. no way. where is all the stuff that was squeezed into that space? you can't tell me you accomplished this without some trickery.
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So there are some great, or at least interesting comments on my site, which has gone to rack and ruin—as my mother used to say. But here's what: I'm afraid to click on the websites because, uh, maybe it's a virus? A flesh-eating virus,even.Maybe people shouldn't post anonymously although I will admit I made that easy to do the way I set up who can comment. Ideas, anyone?
Jeanne
So there are some great, or at least interesting comments on my site, which has gone to rack and ruin—as my mother used to say. But here's what: I'm afraid to click on the websites because, uh, maybe it's a virus? A flesh-eating virus,even.Maybe people shouldn't post anonymously although I will admit I made that easy to do the way I set up who can comment. Ideas, anyone?
Jeanne
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