UPDATE: Steal Diamonds! Variegated Plumage Ovenbird Vile Revenge!

SEE BELOW.
for DANATOR. this is an overhead donut syringe. or whatever you call it.



Now. Onward through the fog.

I ran in to do some errands with the Playboy of the Western World the day before yesterday. He met me in the glittering lobby of his new residence, his jaunty little motoring cap worn to one side, walker deployed, carrying a purse.
This is new.
A maroon ladies leather clutch with a wrist strap.
It is a purse, it is clearly a purse, it is nothing other than what it is, which is a purse. He refers to it as his purse.
When we went in to the doctors office he asked me if I thought his purse would fit under the seat of the car. I said yes.
And off we went to see the optical surgeon.
Everyone in the surgeon's office was talking like a pirate.
If we had been pirates, it would have been a very professional atmosphere.
As it was, if I'd seen anyone with a hook hand I was going to grab the Playboy and run like hell.

Afterwards he announced that he was buying us lunch at The Village Inn.

The Village Inn had the reputation of attracting the kind of 'back to nature' clientele who think nothing of taking a big ol' chunky wino dump on the sidewalk out front. Waving as the cars go by.

Why, oh why do you want to go have lunch at this place, Playboy of the Western World?

Not to worry.
It is now an olde englishe halfe-timberede lesbian bar.*
No more pooping winos.

Now it's full of chunky ladies with facial piercings in kufi caps. The cars in the parking lot have pink triangle stickers. The carpet was brand-new. Our excellent waitress had brown teeth that looked as though she'd grown up drinking muriatic acid.
The food was good. I had a Reuben sandwich.
"Oh, before I forget", said the Playboy.
He handed me a 20$ bill and sent me across the street to buy him some Metamucil. "Get the biggest one they make" he instructed.
The biggest one they make is about the size of a howitzer shell.
It is bright orange.
As I was carrying it back across the street I could feel the waves of pity following me.

My life is a David Lynch movie.



*The Village Inn, across from Yeagers on Northwest Avenue, Bellingham, WA. If you're a gay woman in the Fourth Corner area who likes a good beer buzz early in the morning, this is the place to go.