The Ever-Loving Virgin Prince
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Egads!!! A Month?!
Cackling Cacophonies,
Oh, I’ve done you all a terrible disservice in the past month. I’ve not written a thing at all. Oh, I’ve written, but I’ve not posted a thing here; I haven’t had the time. But now is the time for you all to recover from this recent bout with literary sobriety. I’m back. Between my heavy-duty work-schedule, my numerous adventures with all my friends old and new, romantic evenings spent with cute new female acquaintances, and many nights spent drinking Irish whiskey and singing lusty Scottish drinking songs and the works of Gilbert & Sullivan with pals, I’ve simply had no time to sit down before this humming, glowing screen, and my bodily-fluid-encrusted keyboard.
But I’m back!
A recent ankle injury has me waylaid, and forcibly given me time off work, as well as forced me away from my depraved and irreligious evenings with friends. No more engaging in censurable shenanigans! Nope, I’m stuck with crutches and a foot that has swollen to twice its normal size and is colored in a lovely shade of deep purple. I do love purple. I shall have to try for gangrene on the left if only to make a dapper matching set. For now, I have just the one, and I’ve got pictures if any of you want to see; it’s pretty boss.
And while a lesser person might complain about such an unfortunate and crippling temporary disability, I must say, I have no complaints. Johnny Cash’s words ring true: there’s a silver lining behind every cloud. Thanks to my blessed, puffed-up, violet leg, I have the weekend off to party down with my buddies The Red Rightwing and The Caroling Canuck! I’ve not missed a celebration of theirs yet, and thanks to my good bad fortune, this weekend I won’t have to start! I was scheduled to work, but thanks to my adored ailment, I’ll instead be boogying down with a cane at their swinging 4th of July barbeque. O, blessed life!
Also in attendance at the barbeque will be one of the Canuck’s lady-friends who apparently finds me quite dashing. (Always they choose “dashing”; it’s always the word they use to describe me… I find no shame in this.) Oh inviolable impairment, divine detriment, hallowed harm, sacred sprain; my, what good fortune a sprained ankle and a bit of chipped bone can be. Thank you, my blessed boo-boo.
In the meantime, I suppose I should get back to writing posts. Do bear with me, though I’ve been sober for days, the Vicodin does disorient me a bit. Huzzah!
Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince
Oh, I’ve done you all a terrible disservice in the past month. I’ve not written a thing at all. Oh, I’ve written, but I’ve not posted a thing here; I haven’t had the time. But now is the time for you all to recover from this recent bout with literary sobriety. I’m back. Between my heavy-duty work-schedule, my numerous adventures with all my friends old and new, romantic evenings spent with cute new female acquaintances, and many nights spent drinking Irish whiskey and singing lusty Scottish drinking songs and the works of Gilbert & Sullivan with pals, I’ve simply had no time to sit down before this humming, glowing screen, and my bodily-fluid-encrusted keyboard.
But I’m back!
A recent ankle injury has me waylaid, and forcibly given me time off work, as well as forced me away from my depraved and irreligious evenings with friends. No more engaging in censurable shenanigans! Nope, I’m stuck with crutches and a foot that has swollen to twice its normal size and is colored in a lovely shade of deep purple. I do love purple. I shall have to try for gangrene on the left if only to make a dapper matching set. For now, I have just the one, and I’ve got pictures if any of you want to see; it’s pretty boss.
And while a lesser person might complain about such an unfortunate and crippling temporary disability, I must say, I have no complaints. Johnny Cash’s words ring true: there’s a silver lining behind every cloud. Thanks to my blessed, puffed-up, violet leg, I have the weekend off to party down with my buddies The Red Rightwing and The Caroling Canuck! I’ve not missed a celebration of theirs yet, and thanks to my good bad fortune, this weekend I won’t have to start! I was scheduled to work, but thanks to my adored ailment, I’ll instead be boogying down with a cane at their swinging 4th of July barbeque. O, blessed life!
Also in attendance at the barbeque will be one of the Canuck’s lady-friends who apparently finds me quite dashing. (Always they choose “dashing”; it’s always the word they use to describe me… I find no shame in this.) Oh inviolable impairment, divine detriment, hallowed harm, sacred sprain; my, what good fortune a sprained ankle and a bit of chipped bone can be. Thank you, my blessed boo-boo.
In the meantime, I suppose I should get back to writing posts. Do bear with me, though I’ve been sober for days, the Vicodin does disorient me a bit. Huzzah!
The Virgin Prince
