Bread Crumbs

I... eh... is this thing on?

I'd really hate to blame marriage for the last couple months of silence, but since now that card is in my deck I guess I'll play it. I could go, at some depth, into the events surrounding our most holiest of matrimonies, but as 1 picture = 1000 words, I think I'll just let them do the talking.

The honeymoon that followed was also a good time. There might be pictures around somewhere, but they're hardly for your eyes. Lots of food, lots of drink, partly cloudy with a chance of iguanas. Onward and upward.

Let's rewind to a couple of weeks ago. The time: 4am. At some point in the night, the now-Mrs gets up to squeeze a kidney. She politely does so without waking me. That is, until she tears ass into the bedroom sans-pants and slams the door.

S: "Get up Dan!"
D: "Wha... what the fuck."
S: "There's something!"
D: *something incoherent*
S: "There's something flying around the bathroom. A bird or something. Come kill it."

So! Equipped with five hours of sleep and some eye-crusties, we peer out the bedroom door into the bathroom and spy ourselves a bat-wing. Noting it's features, I run into the office and pull up the Creatures-of-Hell database and discover that this is a special breed of Scare-the-Piss-Out-of-You Bathroom Bat; indigenous to cramped water closets of middle-income dwellings. Armed with this knowledge, we equip ourselves with the necessities: a towel and a large pizza box (empty). Our plan: I sneak into the bathroom and try to snare the fucker with a guest towel while Shannon beats me mercilessly with the fucking pizza box. I must say that it was executed perfectly, minus actually capturing the bat. After educating Shannon on the most obvious visual differences between members of the order Chiroptera and the back of my melon, we sneak into the bathroom to discover: nothing. The bathroom is empty. We shake and remove the shower curtain. We check the toilet. We check under the sink. I go as far as to peer up the faucet in the tub. Nothing. It's neigh 5am, and I am pretty much ready to write this off as a fucking magical bat. Due to lack of sleep, I conclude that it is just as likely that we just experienced one of those group-hallucinations I've heard so much about. We return to bed.

Enter: the next morning. Sparing you some of the more gritty details, I'm in the shower. For reasons not initially clear to me, my shampoo bottle chirped when I reached for it. The little bastard was tucked away in the back of the shower caddy behind a bottle of Head and Shoulders for about 2 hours. I allow myself the most the most manly of shrieks before calling my sidekick into the bathroom with more towels. Not taking any chances, we attempt to rip the entire caddy off the wall and wrap it in a towel. That didn't quite work out, so I settled for double-wrapping the little shit into some sort of squeaking burrito. After procuring a towel for myself as cover, we escape out the back and pitch the bat, towels and all, into the perfectly lit yard where I'm sure the neighbors thought they were witnessing some shit from Lawnmower Man or something. The bat, knowing that we just tried to kill it, circles back in for the kill and still wearing only a towel, I high-tail it back into the building. The creature then escapes, and I like to think, is later captured by Ozwald Osbourne and devoured.

I can't think of anything more entertaining in the last 2 months to report than that. I should probably leave on that high note, but not without listing the current contents of my CD player:
* Boys Night Out, Self-Titled - Absolutely. On the level of Trainwreck, even. I'm almost to the point of hating their first CD for love of this one.
* The Honorary Title, Scream and Light Up the Sky - Nothing on this one has grabbed me, but it's obviously still the same band. Good mellow music, though I'm certain the lyrics would depress me if I would strain hard enough to listen to them.
* Paramore, Riot! - Of course. The singer is legal now, which might have only barely stopped me before. If Falling was your cup of tea, consider this your crumpet.
* Mae, Singularity - It's no Everglow, but it's still good. Procure and enjoy.
* Blaqk Audio, Cex Cells - Davey Havok set to trance music? Sure, what the hell.

I'd like to be able to promise more frequent updates, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe I could satisfy everyone with mini-posts a la Keacher. Look for them soon.

Adieu.

You're stripped to the waist,
And I'm begging for you to do what you do.
A sip for the taste and a shot to subdue...
All the things that hold us back
From the bed to the shower, the shower to the floor...
You call out for more.
From the floor to the climax,
We get up and pour out two more for two lovers.