Octopus' Garden

Monday, September 08, 2008


posted by Artichoke Heart at 11:55 PM | link | 7 comments

Saturday, September 06, 2008


Recipe for SoDakian Martini = Miller Lite + tomato juice + olives. (Do not shake and do not stir. Just swill at will.)

"They Don't Make Them Like They Used to Any More":

Gentleman Sitting Catty-Corner: His wife (gesturing to the fellow sitting next to him) had fifteen children! My wife had seven children! I bet neither one of you end up having anything close to that amount of children!


Lu: WTF!

"I Had Sort of Planned on a Low-Key Evening -- That Is, Until Shots Were Sent Over from the Neighboring Table":

Lu: OMG! It's only 6:30, and we're already doing shots!

AH: OMG! I know! Well . . . at least it's not a straight shot of bourbon!

Lu: Ha! You know what? I don't believe Thor Spam (name changed to protect the innocent) can't remember anything from Cool Breeze's party last week.

AH: You don't buy it?

Lu: No. I think he's being a man-boy.

AH: Hey! We should coin a new term for unacknowledged dipsomania, then! We'll call it being ThorSpammed!

Lu: Like, OMG! I was so ThorSpammed last night! I can't remember a thing!

AH: Exactly. And then we can mock him on FaceBook by writing updates along the lines of: "OMG! I was so ThorSpammed last night! I can't remember a thing!" Would that be mean? Are we Mean Girls?

Lu: Yeah. Kind of. Hee.

AH: Hee.

Time-lapsed rain clouds keep on cruising by like long dark cars with tinted windows, and it remains miraculously cool and sunny and blue. A turkey vulture parabolas the Vermillion water tower, visible behind the worn brick fence. BBQ pinks on the grill and around the corner, there's the promise of deep-fried dough as the street festival sets up. A law professor dances the polka with his daughter.

Happiness sizzles deep in my pocket like an electric tingle of loose change.

The Public Domain Tunes Band plays a version of The Drunken Hiccups -- learned from Knut Jensen, two-fingered fiddler from Centerville. The hiccups are pizzicati, or maybe it's that the pizzicati are hiccups, pinging out from the midst of all of the rapid-fire intricate fingerwork being executed by The Fabulous Omar . . . and it's a beautiful evening and fall is coming on, and what could be more fabulous than this?

posted by Artichoke Heart at 5:21 PM | link | 6 comments