Posting is for squares

Ok, so here I am, in full post-Pennsic pout mode. This is my sixth year, and post-Pennsic has yet to go smoothly for me.

The whole Pennsic thing is kind of a re-set button. I come out of it every year like I'm being born into a brand-new world. My perspective significantly and delightfully askew, I come floating back into reality as if I will never have to worry about another thing as long as I live. None of the mundane, petty things about my life can possibly bother me after the sublime alternate universe from which I have just emerged. And then all the pointy, crunchy, hard bits start edging their way in.

The student loan, cell phone, and credit card bills that are all aready past due, or soon will be. My paycheck waiting for me that is a magnificent $68 because I only worked two days in the pay period before I left. The yearly appointment (the girly one) that I have to make very soon. My instantly stressed b/f, back to face his own reality of bills and childrearing. The aunts and friends and everyone else on god's green earth who wonder if I've secured a teaching job for the school year. (I have not.) The Fall Victoria's Secret catalog and my coveting covetousness over the h.o.t. fall skirts and jackets that I have never really been able to afford.

I don't want to come out! It's all SQUARE out here!! Put me back in!

The stupid real world can lick it.




The stupid real world can also suck it.



And...um...boobs.

Um...What exactly would a "Wompenog" be?

Yes. In the hustle and bustle of a Friday night in the pizza kitchen, as saucy pizza boys flick saucy pizza girls with wet towels and playfully drop pepperoni down the back of each other's shirts, one of them will yell, "I need a large thin sausage and mushroom, an indy tradish Hawaiian, and a Col. William Widewees!"

Thank you, K-Dawg, but they are not Pizza code names. They are all streets that I deliver to. And you all breathe a sigh of relief, for I know you were waiting anxiously to learn the answer. Alas, no one gets the prize. But it was going to be good. Maybe some other time.

Anyhoo, I'm off to Pennsic tomorrow or the next day. I haven't packed shit yet. And I don't mean that in a gay-sex kind of way. I mean it in a 'my stuff is exploded to all points of the house and most of it isn't even clean, let alone ready to travel across the state' kind of way. I have laundry to do, boots to track down, a few items of clothing to mend, and what am I doing instead? Blogging.

I did make a list. A list of stuff to do before I leave. Blogging is not on that list.

I'm getting a ride out there, because, ideally, I will be driving back in Cheryl's Ford Explorer with which she is paying me for working this year. YAY NEW CAR!! Well, new to me. And five or six years newer than the car I have now. Of course, Blaze the Amazing Thunder-Blazer has been on her best behavior since I mentioned this deal in front of her. The speedometer is working, the brakes are ok again. Yeah. Shameless hussy.

I'll try to update from Pennsic, but you know, no promises. I'll at least try to bring back interesting picture of penis parades and large men in bondage outfits. It will be everything you knew it could be and more, I promise.

Ok, I think I lost my list. Now I have to make a new one. Crap.