Last time I saw a mouth like that, it had a hook in it.

Ha ha! It's Sunday morning and I'm not doing shit. Read the paper already, played with the dog, tried to teach a kid basic hand-eye coordination (didn't stick), and now I'm getting ready to not go to a Dodger game. Que lastima. All in all, not a bad weekend and it ain't even over yet! Think I'll go hatch plans of proletariat revolt down at the World Famous Bigfoot Lodge. Yeah, it's Rock and Roll Bingo night and I'd really like to slide as far into a nice cold beer as possible while talking shit with the rest of the locals. Anyone ever heard the X song "The Have Nots"? There's a great line "How does it feel to have your own bottle of booze/behind the bar, how does it feel/to play cards with the barmaids while they work." I can tell you: it feels really comfy and nice and you forget that the country is going to hell in a hand basket and the guy you're going to vote for probably can't do anything about it but hey, at least you're a true local at a punk bar. It ain't much but in these uncertain times I sort of like the cozy.

Almost forgot: I had a dream in which I went to a giant buffet style restaurant, you know, multiple stations, gobs of over-cooked crap and tons of fat people mashing away. Mom, both bros and sis were there. I couldn't get served and everything was taking too long and they wouldn't give me a salad or a beer and then everyone around me was wearing horrible suits and talking like Dante in "Clerks" and I snapped. I bit into an overcooked drumstick that I'd been waiting for forever and left. I told Tarik I was leaving and then I got trapped in the freight elevator and then I was walking along a deserted country road trying to figure out how I was going to get home. Then someone asked me to volunteer at the old folks home and bring my dog. I woke up cussing and wishing that I was at AOC eating really good salami and cheese. This is why I hate sleeping.

Peace out, bitches!