Will YOU give me ten thousand dollars?

I am so thick headed,but that's another post.(no seriously I'm currently working on how it's possible that I function in life whilst being as stubborn as I am, stay tuned). I am finally sitting down to my computer on what is possibly the nicest day of this summer so far. Not too hot, plenty of sunshine and not a drop of rain forecasted. So I pick THE nicest day to stay inside and babble on to the multitudes (read:negative quantities) of people that have been breahtlessly waiting for a post since May. I have been putting off writing for a couple weeks now. Certainly not due to a lack of goings on to talk about. I started a couple of posts and never finished them...
One was about Rod Piazza and the glorious times where I thought "I'm gonna be a blues singer..you can freaking mumble and jumble words and put a few kick ass notes behind you and people eat that shit up" Rod Piazza wore a suit jacket splattered with gold paint spots. His wife played the piano with her feet and the waitress at Ram's Head Live told my father that they didn't have Guinness but they had another beer like it called "Genius".(Brilliant!) She also said peanut grigio. I love and simultaneously hate people all at the same time!

I had a post about the debauchery that went down in Dewey Beach on Memorial Day weekend. If you've ever heard of Dewey or been lucky enough to have passed through there, then you know. It's no bigger than 13 bars on a single stretch of road will allow. But it's the homiest most comfortable place I have ever been. For 6 years now I have made my way back there to enjoy the splendor (read: half naked surfer boys and a complete disconnect from the rest of the world.) that Dewey provides. For example Suicide Sunday is a time honored tradition at one of the WORLD's greatest bars, The Starboard. Wake up nice and early and get your game face on. Bloody Marys and Mimosas at nine in the afternoon, Eggs Delmarva and a line that boasts "if your not standing in it by 9:15, just go home." So I will spare you the champagne soaked details and get to the moral of this non-post... Ask and you shall recieve. Hostess pages me at 2 hour wait time and says htey're no longer seating. I asked her to reconsider. The owner of the joint gave us a table.
Shots? Done, I didn't pay for any of them.
Pouring a gimundo container of syrup on obnoxious frat boys around us? Yup he seriously let me. Got mad at the aftermath of having WAY more syrup on his face than he had planned. Then later asked me to marry him. (the rule doesn't apply to him, I said no.)
3pm came and the crew was far from coherent...the night ended there. For some, not for me but again the details have been lost in a sea of thoughts consumed by the fact that I will again return this weekend for my best friends little sister(lets call her Henna)'s 21st birthday.

I read the Blogess' post about her aunt dying and though how coincidental that it inspired her to write a post about Mariah Carey and my aunt Christy just passed away 2 weeks ago and I couldn't think of a syllable to write that wouldn't make me curse the heavens for taking such a life force out this world.

I also had a post about, oh shit. I already forgot that one too. Well let me tell you what finally got me to sit down and write after all these weeks.



A loan. A boring stinking banks are failing someone give me a car loan.
So my question is... if they say no. Will YOU give me around 10 grand? Or how about a car in working order? Oh come on. I'm cute.

Right?


...stay tuned