back from black friday

after an extended absence i have returned. the widely speculated rumors of my rehab stint are overblown and less than thirty per cent true. i did hit the amaretto liqueur hard over the u.s. thanksgiving extended holiday but only for the purposes of getting drunk. my house was basically a revolving door of people with one objective: grabbing a piece of t.price. hopefully i satisfied everyone by being as aloof as possible and using the phrase “may or may not” hundreds of times. i am also hard at work on a project that could be even grander than phlox loves arthur and does not directly involve consuming liquor. my christmas gift this year is a ticket for a cruise, and perhaps this is the year i will finally see a palm tree decorated with lights, which has been one of my lifelong goals. if that happens, all i’ll have left is to end world hunger and see stevie nicks naked.

michelle and tina

i’ve been wondering if it means anything that i like the version of santana’s “the game of love” with michelle branch’s vocals better than the one with tina turner’s vocals. don’t get me wrong, i’d do whatever either of the two women told me to do if i ever met them. including, but not limited to eating a jelly doughnut (i’ve been jelly-free since nineteen ninety-four). but in this case the high range of branch’s voice outweighs the gritty funk of turner’s. now you may be wondering, “but doesn’t liking that piece of music intrinsically mean something? like that you suck?”. and to that i would reply, “everyone needs some pop in their lives. it may as well come from a living legend selling out his credibility.” and it’s also more exciting because it’s so wrong.

the inevitable, the universal

by now many of you may think you have a pretty good idea who the enigma t.price is. you may think that i could be your best friend. perhaps you think i am an excellent conversationalist. maybe you detest my mixture of northern sense and southern sensibility. in any case, if you don’t envision this in my future then you are quite a ways off. it has become clear to me that my future is a funnel, swirling inevitably toward hairspray addiction:

When White confronted him, he noted the man appeared to be under the influence of alcohol. The man admitted drinking two bottles of spray. He also told White that he is “a hard-core alcoholic,” who drinks the spray for the alcohol in it.

The man had $15 in his pocket at the time. White asked him why he didn’t just go to a liquor store and buy a bottle of liquor.
“The temptation was too great" in the store, the man replied. He also admitted to being in Wal-Mart on previous occasions and drinking hair spray.

drunk elephants and paris

this is the first sentence of an associated press article:

Paris Hilton is being praised by conservationists for highlighting the problem of binge-drinking elephants in northeastern India.

i think i may speak from the heart here, as this is an honest, shirtsleeve-wearing, god-fearing blog. drunk elephants are absolutely the single most important concern in india at the moment. during my time over there this summer the number of drunk elephants i encountered far outnumbered the rail-thin homeless, starving people i saw. as a matter of fact, one pissed elephant stole all the liquor i had on my person, leaving me none to give to the poor indians. i love paris.

f.y.i.

this information about women is all news to me. this is why i watch tyra. tyra and katie couric only for all my news. i just wish they’d do a “what’s down there?” day for men. i haven’t really ever looked down there while naked. i use the bathroom looking straight ahead and whenever i’m hooking up with someone i just take off my clothes and say, “showtime synergy!”. then some stuff happens.

ten gallon whiskey

so where have all the cowboys gone? you may think that the answer to that question involves the themes of chivalry, chaps, and cultural norms. but you’d be wrong. the one-word answer is “pennsylvania”. i’d be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy drinking whiskey on the porch and walking slowly. but i never really understood the need to wear dirty clothes and use dim speech. and don’t get me started on the horrible, simplistic music. so i am proposing a new “modern” kind of cowboy that embraces the slow lifestyle but doesn’t need the hat or truck. he can drink all day and play the guitar, but his songs won’t make you want to spur him in the groin. perhaps there is little difference between my modern cowboy and an alcoholic. although the former could use the noun “pard” un-ironically.