Before me sits the groovy super tall (practically a vase for a single rose) shot glass. Two of 'em came in the gift box with that Godot Belgian White Chocolate Liqueur. This glass is half full now. Please note I very rarely drink anything with a kick. I pay this head ache thing kind of a price distantly beyond reason, if I have too much.
Beside the shot glass is a mug of freshly ground and brewed Euro Roast Coffee. And mere minutes ago I went a little bit herbal and as my bud would say, made the night spliferific.
Having danced my feet and heart out last night I feel pretty good about being this peacefull on a Saturday night.
Following on a previous theme... There was this incident in the Canadian parliament back when Mr. Sweater Man (Brian Mulroony) was PM when, during a heated debate across the floor of the HOC the PM himself is accused of calling someone a bad name. A really bad name. :)
So, this CBC Radio comedy team does a skit the next weekend where this dude that does the bang on impression of the PM is sketching on an interview with the press. "No, no" he says "I was just saying the loyal opposition is often like a bunch of hens. They are always cluck clucking about something. And I mearly commented to my collegue that the honerable member seemed to be 'clucking faster'" And then they break into this song... "Faster... Clucking Faster..."
Suffice to say, this thing came up as we were cleaning up dinner tonight, and I sang the little diddi. From the family room, totally engrossed in a stack of link'en Lincoln Logs, I immediatly hear Ed ape right in time the exact song... hitting each word perfectly. Baby, you cannot be two, hell even almost three as is Ed, and say "clucking faster" without sounding like an innocent little baby boy singing about a fucking bastard....