Via ***Dave: The way we weren’t.
Invent a memory of me and post it in the comments. It can be anything you want, so long as it’s something that’s never happened. Then (if you like) post this in your journal so that people can invent memories for you.
Alright, people… let’s have it.
Well, this was at the first Margie Gras, and we all had so much to drink that I’m surprised any of us remember any of it. I’m still not sure why Doyce was in the aluminum foil diaper, or I was wearing nothing but a golf cap and a rain poncho, but it might have had to do with Jackie’s idea of how the golf course would make a great spot for a LARP.
It’s not surprising they’ll never let us onto the course again, but destroying the video tape was just mean of them.
Jogging shorts. Aluminum jogging shorts. I can’t believe that even in that state of inebriation no one looked at that and thought ‘lightning hazard’.
Nah, the shorts didn’t say lightning hazzard, the metal pole you hauled out there with you and decided to dance on, THAT said lightning hazzard. However, I was too busy playing dodge ball with the squirrels on the course that I didn’t really think to say anything.
Nah, the shorts didn’t say lightning hazzard, the metal pole you hauled out there with you and decided to dance on, THAT said lightning hazzard. However, I was too busy playing dodge ball with the squirrels on the course that I didn’t really think to say anything.
Look at Doyce…
When he’s Aluminum foil Diaper, and carrying that long metal “talking stick” he looks just like “pole-vaulter-donkey-man”.
*grin*
How about the night our junk went down two days out from Gettysburg on the Missouri. The crashing waves and ravenous carp. We made it to that little island on a soggy raft of black market jujubes we were smuggling into Nebraska. Do you remember the native farmer’s daughter who warmed your breath with hers and healed your broken body in that little sod shack under the cottonwood trees? You regained your strength and I wandered the shoreline looking for coconuts or clams or something to eat other than god-damned buffalo steaks. Perhaps it’s better that it ended the way it did. Sometimes I do miss the tranquility, but I still shudder when confronted with a tractor tube. It is better to look to the future now.
Gol Dern’t Doyce!
Remember that one time that cute lil’ red head talked you out of your clothes and all we ended up with was a useless dai ruo mu ji laser pistol.
P.S. We all thank you for the back waxing.
P.P.S. Having problems with the comments list on the left side of the page. It’s giving me 404 errors when I click on them.
I met Doyce through his art, those justly famed velvet paintings of big-eyed cats.
Many of you might not know this (because Doyce is so modest) but at one point in the mid-’80’s his “I *heart* Kitties” line of clothing, fabric, wallpaper and tchotches made him the Laura Ashley of cat-related bric-à-brac.
It was a sad day, indeed, when he set his brush down.
Doyce, I remember the time that you said that your leg Hair was slowing you down, and that you needed to keep up with Marn. Seem that Marn’s ability to use the metric system to her advantage had really gotten to you.
The day you came back from your waxing and having all of the leg hair removed so that you could gain a few miles a day on your road to nowhere was a bit odd.
Though, not as odd as the bikini wax…that was just a bit to much.