assorted brown matter

What's become of my Friday nights? I used to so look forward to Fridays. It was my burst into the weekend. Drinking, laughing, neighborhood gatherings, drinking too much. Good times.

Now I'm just tired. The commute thing sucks.

I've had my rental car for 32 days. I've driven 5204 miles in it. It had 61 miles on it when they gave it to me.

I may go buy a new car tomorrow. I'm tired of a rental. Especially a Chevy.

I might also make blender drinks tomorrow afternoon, a happy hour starting soon after lunch, a pitcher of frozen treats doused in good rum and fresh juices. Petite umbrellas de rigueur. Or plastic monkeys perhaps. I may do this regardless of my intention to buy a car.

Obviously, I'd do the car before the blender.

Tomorrow evening, a charred meat feast in the evening, something along the lines of slow-cooked ribs and a stuffed boneless chicken, courtesy of some local gas-station/meat-counter, a phenomenon apparently quite common in this quadrant of the state.

As a matter of fact, I fired up the 1967 Feast-Master built-in charcoal grill tonight. Yes, Feast-Master, hyphenated and trade-marked just like that. I'm thinking about taking it with me when I move home, building a brick altar for it back in New Orleans.

My grandfather would be so pleased. I think his ghost still wanders this house. That must be what's happening, cause my kids couldn't possibly make the mess in this place without help.

I will be asleep within three minutes of posting this.