BOO YA

...ka-shaaaaa.

NEW YORK, CHICAGO, IOWA? GAW BLIMEY!

(A Photo Essay in Five Acts...)

Glyn, En-maze. Somewhere in There, MellyGibzun Chases Aliens.

Andrew (Da MommasBoy) and Paul in Chi.

(alternate title: "We Built This Sunset on Rock and Roll.")

Paul. The Only Lens-reflected Boy in New York.

Paul and the Simpleton. Too Little Rock for Four Fists.


(alternate title:
"Hey Ladies, Got Your Tickets? To T.O.C.E.'s GUN SHOW?")

Head of a Fox!

Okay, for some bullhonky reason, the computer will not let me download any pics from the visit by T.O.C.E.'s so-called "British" so-called "friends." So here, in it's place, is a photo of where you can find Our Big Girl in Iowa City, when she is not doing my feline bidding or listening to my latest aria. Shabby place, huh? Apparently, though, a river of beer flows underneath it.

Hey, monkey-in-the-middle! Got any hand lotion?????

Charlene, Charlene, Where Have You Beeen?
O! I hear the masses singing it from the treetops!

(Okay, no I don't; nobody ever reads this save, like, prison inmates and people who want to sell me ceiling fans...)

O! I hear the masses singing from the ceiling-fan-bladed penetentiary roofs!

!!!!!

Stop telling me to shut up, or I'll bite you. I haven't posted for a spell because T.O.C.E. spent last week at home and took her computer with her. Anywheeze, I do have some News Items that I'm contractually obligated to report:

1) As a blatant contradiciton to what I just typed, T.O.C.E.'s new buddy, The One Called Kleine Kinder, apparently spent hours of perfectly good study time trying to post a message to yours truly. Or at least that's what she says. So props to you, dilligent human, though you should lose points for thinking my three-leggedness was just a joke for "blog cred."

2) T.O.C.E. recently received a barrage of photos of her foreign buddies cavorting in America (see post below). She--er, I-- will soon post them just for you.

3) I am taking up opera singing. Because of my iron will (ala Callas) and admirable work ethic, I have been practising all of the day and all of the night. Howling and crooning and warbling, never sotto voce T.O.C.E. and The Other are so thrilled.

4) T.O.C.E.'s separated-at-birth twin (god help us,) The One Called Patrick, is excorcizing his demons in yet another dark and twisted piece de theatre, The Play Called Frozen. View glowing press by clicking here and scrolling till you see a photo of T.O.C.E., if she were a hairy, stern 27-year-old flanked by two lovely mamacitas: http://www.pittsburghcitypaper.ws/performance/story.cfm?type=Theater .

Or view creepy photos by clicking on my link to the site, over there. To your right. No, your other right. Stupid.

Their Old Ladies Love Neckface, So Break out the Red Wine and Coke.

T.O.C.E. and her weirdo friends did this to Chicago last week, especially at unsuspecting nightspots where "EvaAdore" was playing. Then they drove back to Iowa, I ran under the bed and everybody went to a corn maze.
THEN, T.O.C.E. had a class workshop one of her pieces and the stilletto foot was on the other heinie. Oooey. Right in tha doofer.

Oh, the Places That Friends of T.O.C.E. Go!

(like The One Called Wesley, taken in Scandanavia, probably...)