Hot and sticky lesbian sex.
Now that I have your attention, dig this. The 18-decibel evangelical church is at it again and from the sound of things there's a full-throttle revival in full effect and all I can fucking think of at this moment is fashioning a molotov cocktail out of some sadly emptied Corona bottles, an old t-shirt (not a concert t-shirt, silly), some gasoline from the lawn mower, and then a lighter from the kitchen drawer. And then, while they're all still in there, SCREAMING ON A MICROPHONE INTERSPERSING IT WITH AHHH-LAYYY-LOOOOOOOOO-YAHHHHHHHHHH, I will lob said cocktail through the window during the last syllable.
I have given this a little thought, as you may note.
Ventured aboard the Love Boat tonight as this city's premier lounge act took the stage in a suit which could best be classified as a collision between Armani and a harlequin's dream of christmas wrapping paper. Saw my sister et al and at one point my sister's beer was approaching the horizontal mark and, being the ever-responsible older sib, lunged to right it, as she lunged forward, and then... there was this horrible arc in the air, and I saw her face intersecting with that arc. And then her face, every itty-bitty milimeter of it, was dripping with draft beer. Holy farty beer bubbles on my little sister's face and shirt, batman. As luck would have it she was not mad. And then we created a two-man party train. See, with a positive attitude all is and can ever be perfect in Nancy's World.
Excuse me now, I have to look for an empty Corona bottle.
Love me, Love, ME.
ps:Don't hate me 'cuz my world is so perfectly partyrific.
Suggested soundtrack for rereading this blogpost - REM's Monster, esp. Strange Currencies. Thanks for your attention in this matter.