Posted 12:20 PM by Alfred

Homina homina homina. I can’t seem to properly wake up, but I don’t want to sleep cuz I have like this weird feeling that I should be doing something.

And writing this crap ain’t it.

The bowl game of the moment holds no interest for me. It will not stop fucking raining. I’m pretty engrossed in Fleming’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, but I lay on the bed, read, and in five minutes I’m falling asleep. Why not sleep? Oh yeah.

Um, I should do laundry.

It will not stop fucking raining. Like, nonstop since new years. Homina.

There’s some guy on tv saying that basketball is his job. And 1 tour. He makes 60 grand a year and he’s got people giving him shit that it’s small time compared to the nba. He’s a wise fella cuz he recognizes he’s making some pretty decent cash playing a game. Kudos, buddy.

Now butthead is calling beavis stupid & saying there’s always been tv.

Mrs. P is working today but I have off. My day will consist of, um, wait, who are you again?

Will prolly finish watching A View to a Kill, Roger Moore’s last Bond flick.

Yes, a pretty exciting schedule.

Have I mentioned that it will not stop fucking raining? And that I should do laundry? No pressure, but, you know, it would be nice to get some of that laundry done. The problem with that scenario is it requires me getting up out of this chair. Ok, 1, 2, 3, here I go.

Hmmm. It’s too fucking wet out there to do laundry. Hi, I’m Alfred, I’m gonna hang up laundry that will never dry cuz the humidity factor is like 8 billion. So no, fuck it.

Is 10 am too early to start drinking? Juuuust kidding. Kind of. 5 o’clock somewhere, ya know? Nah, nah, not like that, shit, crown royal will have me passed out by noon, and another potentially productive day turns into jurk storr central.

Mrs. P went to this city in Mexico called Queretaro, where they have this famous church, where there’s this famous bush which has thorns in the shape of crosses. Seriously. The legend goes that some Jesuit back in the day sat down for a spell and put his walking stick down for a second and like a sliver off the stick fell in the ground, started up this bush or tree or plant or whatever it is and the thorns were in the shape of a cross. If I’m lying I’m dying cuz I’m literally looking at one of them right now. She brought some back with her. You can’t get them from the church but merchants still sell them out front, and I guess what they did is snagged some branches or seeds or whatever you call it, took them home, planted them, and then have the strain, ya dig, and then bring it out to the church and sell them to the tourists.

Ah ha, here you go, gotta love the internet:

“…a thorn tree said to have grown from the walking stick of Friar Antonio Margil de Jesús, a famous missionary who covered vast territories on foot. This thorn tree is considered miraculous because its thorns grow in the shape of the cross.”

So there, you learned something today. Peace.

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