Hie Diddle-dee Dee
So wow~ sudden potential doom. Times three, even.
And just like every other year, as the tropics start to get all exciting, I glue myself to the Weather Channel. Because all the talk of large storms always gets me thinking about things like living on islands, of piratey trade routes... Windward and Leeward and Northern Islands, trade winds and gulf streams, charts and latitudes. I wonder if the dog would be happy living on a boat. Not much room to run around, and I wonder if he would get seasick. The cat would have a ball. I wonder if they have the Internet in places like Montserrat or Saba, and how would I get my vitamins and DVDs delivered there. I think about sandbars, and wooden slat shutters clacking in a strong wind, treehouses a la Swiss Family Robinson, and walking the beach barefoot with britches hacked up all jagged to the knees. I think about the sweet, briny smell of the wood plank walkways of Whale Harbor in Islamorada, and of rum runners and conch fritters... Those creepy, slippery caves just south of Montego Bay that are supposed to have hidden pirate treasure, and of ginger beer and barbecued redfish... The traders’ market on Nassau and the parts of the Bahamas that are not all riddled with tourism but loaded with tales of corsairs and smugglers... Gawd I love the tropics.
I think about being a Caribbean trader. I’ve known some of those guys and damn. Damn it sounds like fun and danger. I think about looting sunken Spanish galleons, and of moving back to Key West... Or at least to the southern Louisiana version of Key West... What would that be? Happy Jack? Dulac? Boothville?
I think about planting a flag down on a deserted Caribbean island and declaring myself a sovereign nation. Welcome to... Crow-atia..! ...What, no? Okay, how about um... Kell-amity Island? Cabo de Crowley? Duchess Key? The Tarot Republic???
My brigantine would be named The Windward Witch.
Sigh.
Ooh... And speaking of triumphs for my Saints...
Holy Shit! We got John Carney back!!!!!!!!! Wahoo! Now we’ll actually be able to score field goals!!! Fer realz!
Now if we could only get Sean Payton to lure my boyfriend Joe Horn back from the damned Dolphins...
But YAY!!! And I don’t even care what who’s-his-face..-um, Hartley or whomever? Yeah, I don’t even care what he did to have him facing suspension.... But THANKS!!!!! Whatever your idiocy, it helped Mickey Loomis see the damned light for a change. Whee!
Seriously, I've been kvetching about the non-Carney Saints for what, like a year and a half, two years now? http://kellcrow7.livejournal.com/100074.html?nc=3 Yes, people. It's about freakin time.
Also I'm pretty gald we released Jason David. He was not a bad player... But I don't know. Something was amiss. And I don't just mean the annoying amount of incomplete passes.
Here's to a genuinely hopeful 09-10 season *knocks wood*!
I know. Me talking hardcore football crap like a drunk, barrel-chested, middle-aged construction worker is sexy as all fuck, innit?
.
And just like every other year, as the tropics start to get all exciting, I glue myself to the Weather Channel. Because all the talk of large storms always gets me thinking about things like living on islands, of piratey trade routes... Windward and Leeward and Northern Islands, trade winds and gulf streams, charts and latitudes. I wonder if the dog would be happy living on a boat. Not much room to run around, and I wonder if he would get seasick. The cat would have a ball. I wonder if they have the Internet in places like Montserrat or Saba, and how would I get my vitamins and DVDs delivered there. I think about sandbars, and wooden slat shutters clacking in a strong wind, treehouses a la Swiss Family Robinson, and walking the beach barefoot with britches hacked up all jagged to the knees. I think about the sweet, briny smell of the wood plank walkways of Whale Harbor in Islamorada, and of rum runners and conch fritters... Those creepy, slippery caves just south of Montego Bay that are supposed to have hidden pirate treasure, and of ginger beer and barbecued redfish... The traders’ market on Nassau and the parts of the Bahamas that are not all riddled with tourism but loaded with tales of corsairs and smugglers... Gawd I love the tropics.
I think about being a Caribbean trader. I’ve known some of those guys and damn. Damn it sounds like fun and danger. I think about looting sunken Spanish galleons, and of moving back to Key West... Or at least to the southern Louisiana version of Key West... What would that be? Happy Jack? Dulac? Boothville?
I think about planting a flag down on a deserted Caribbean island and declaring myself a sovereign nation. Welcome to... Crow-atia..! ...What, no? Okay, how about um... Kell-amity Island? Cabo de Crowley? Duchess Key? The Tarot Republic???
My brigantine would be named The Windward Witch.
Sigh.
Ooh... And speaking of triumphs for my Saints...
Holy Shit! We got John Carney back!!!!!!!!! Wahoo! Now we’ll actually be able to score field goals!!! Fer realz!
Now if we could only get Sean Payton to lure my boyfriend Joe Horn back from the damned Dolphins...
But YAY!!! And I don’t even care what who’s-his-face..-um, Hartley or whomever? Yeah, I don’t even care what he did to have him facing suspension.... But THANKS!!!!! Whatever your idiocy, it helped Mickey Loomis see the damned light for a change. Whee!
Seriously, I've been kvetching about the non-Carney Saints for what, like a year and a half, two years now? http://kellcrow7.livejournal.com/100074.html?nc=3 Yes, people. It's about freakin time.
Also I'm pretty gald we released Jason David. He was not a bad player... But I don't know. Something was amiss. And I don't just mean the annoying amount of incomplete passes.
Here's to a genuinely hopeful 09-10 season *knocks wood*!
I know. Me talking hardcore football crap like a drunk, barrel-chested, middle-aged construction worker is sexy as all fuck, innit?
.