Tag Archives: neighbors

Victorian Commando

29 May


The Fella just left from a cheese-eating, line-running, catch-upping date of yay: he over a beer, me over a whiskey.

…He brought me condiments, from the house, as he is in the final process of “move-out,” where he will be soon to join The BFF in the land of New Orleans.

Every theatre (and it’s people) in town will mourn his leaving, on scales: artistic, inventive, technical and in performance.

I frankly don’t even want to think about it.  So stop bringing it up.

…He helped me level out my TV sound system while here.  Cuz he’s a Wizard. 

The WHS Pimp had brought in a kick ass sub woofer et al for office use, to which I said, “Balls to that!  I’m taking this shit HOME!”  And I did.  And set it on the lowest possible level.  And instantly became the kind of asshole apartment neighbor we all hate, with constant booming rumbles through the entire length of a movie. 

I made sure to put in a good action one to really show off.  The explosions were awesome, and the helicopter sounded like it was actually landing in my own living room.  I’m sure the neighbors thought so too.  But then, once The Fella came over, I had him fiddle with it to get a better talking balance versus the constant sound of impending doom that a sub woofer seems able to deliver by instinct.  He of course managed it beautifully, killed the added echo, upped the treble, and has it balanced like a dream.

…Only it’s too late now for ‘splosion movies, so I’ll have to play with it again tomorrow.

In the mean time: a second session of Pilates.

…And tomorrow: laundry and rehearsal, followed by post-cast-bonding…under the express encouragement of Mdm. Director.

Laundry is a total must.

Down to my default underwear again.  And I’m seriously considering going “commando,” over wearing that butt-floss thong bullshit, (which I keep only for such emergency purposes.)

…Only somehow, I don’t think “commando” wears well on Gwendolen.

…Something tells me, Mamma wouldn’t approve.


…Course, what she doesn’t know, couldn’t hurt her…


The Pirate Is Forced To Retire

17 May


Two moving vans and and new wireless notification pop up, announced the worst.

“Relocation of your wireless signal.”

My leached-for-free internet of the past several months was mourned, duely.

A moment of silence, in respect.

It is a very terrible thing to be, suddenly, a Pirate without the free  booty to pillage.  One feels quite at a loss.  Like an actor whose just finished their last gig and has nothing next to move onto.





…And highly inconvenienced.

The hope-through-positive-thinking, that whomever will fill said apartment, will be just as liberal with their signal, is too mean a temptation to fall under. 

In these days?

With all the assholes in the world?

…Who will break into your account without your permission?

…Whenever they freakin’ want?

Be real.

NO ONE in their right mind, would be open to that.

…And I will miss my little overly-trusting brothers, who (no doubt) have moved to other pastures that they will equally water with the blessings of their free-willingness to spread joy and free-internet-wonder amongst the masses.

It was a short romance, but it was voracious in content, and exceedingly memorable.

…I will always look on these months as a time of wonder, great growth, and astounding culture, for which: I thank you.

Not every Pirate had been so nobly sponsored.

I will never forget you.


The Dread Internet Pirate


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