DAY 13: Make the Right Choice, Make the Chocolate Covered Donut Choice

So I frequently find my journals cycle through epochs of order and sense. This long break from my first digital diary has left me in the upswing of a senseless divulging of mind crumbs.

To start with, please don't miss your opportunity to:

Hack a Magic 8-Ball

So as you do that and snicker away while your friends' yes-or-no questions are answered by the word, 'PENIS,' please take care to note that the order and sense of my blog is currently taking a derelict dive.

----------======== DAY ? : Who gives? ========--------

(Please note that though thematic meaning will be moved to the bottom of the accomplishments list for this blog, entertainment will still be top priority)

That is to say...

[INSERT: This next section was written previous to a period of living in Hospitalet, the suburbs of Barcelona in the house of an unruly gay man whose principal show of kindness at letting us into his house quickly melted into chronically unattended cat litter and wildly unpleasant nights stomping around the tiny little house of his in four inch pumps]

I'm rockin' the suburbs! Just like Michael Jackson did! Except now he's dead. But his spirit lives on!

The title of this song has more to do with what I was feeling at the beginning other creation process than the feeling of the song itself. As some songs, such as the song HDP and I played at Christmas (Alone with my Baby (Dirty Remaster) by TheFamily) convey an actual continuous emotion from beginning to end, sometimes I write some music that turns out to pull me out of strange mind frame. That was the case in what turned out to be this chipper little tune:

 Ugly Ways to Make Good People Hurt by MUÑECO de ORO

[END OF INSERT]

I wanted to share a sneak peak at Risi, the company that makes what I once considered to be the ultimate form of oral entertainment (yes, they are a Lays competitor and not a sex shop mom).

I now realize that contributing even this second paragraph to Risi is bad form considering that the mark of the food maker is now all but a warning sign for me after binging on strange little fried snacks laced with flavor enhancers to the point that I awoke the next day with mutant pimples on my tongue. O sea, gross. But ahhhh.... the memories.

----------THE THICK OF IT

Anyhow, I wanted to get to here since beginning to write pretty much all the rest of this blog entry since this video is the main reason I decided to come crawling back to the keyboard. Please enjoy this video card created by HDP written for our estranged friend Cris who we will hold dearly (and comically, in the case of this video) in our hearts forever: