I wasn't going to and then I was but then I was like 'nah!' and then I was again but then I didn't really feel like it and now I do so here it is—verbs and nouns and adjectives and more and's and stuff and hopefully everything makes sense before the last period—dot. And in the event it does not, make sense that is, we'll all be dead somewhere between 50 and 100 years from now anyway so who cares.
Ever click on an article anxious to see what happens next and then read the opening paragraph like what the fuck was that?!
Hello! Hi, you! By you I mean you, you know who you are.
I'm @dandays - The Luckiest Guy I Know. This is where I perform my ass off, the whole thing too, not just a little piece of it. Behind the scenes are countless hours of edits and meticulous
arranging arrangements rearranging, photo enhancing, emotions flowing, story telling and whatever else happens for a BIG HUGE school of fish. I might even rack up another 50 plus views on this beloved blockchain of ours, tack on a couple thousand words and another 100 or more comments but to the biggest fish like BIG HUGE fish I swim against the current.
Now be honest. I haven't sugarcoated anything to this point and don't plan on doing so anytime soon so get real with me. Between the opening paragraph and the one you just read, which ƚw̴iꙅƚ did you least expect?
Hello! Hi, you! By you I mean dammit! I already said that. Look, all I meant to do when I started this was tell you about our trip to Prague.
But @c0ff33a got me so cracked out on coffee my keyboard's about to roast so I doubt I'll get to the part about Prague which means the part about Budapest is probably dead in the water.
The Shoes on the Danube Bank (Hungarian: Cipők a Duna-parton) is a memorial erected on 16 April 2005, in Budapest, Hungary. Conceived by film director Can Togay, he created it on the east bank of the Danube River with sculptor Gyula Pauer [hu] to honour the Jews who were massacred by Fascist Hungarian militia belonging to the Arrow Cross Party in Budapest during the Second World War. They were ordered to take off their shoes (shoes were valuable and could be stolen and resold by the militia after the massacre), and were shot dead at the edge of the water so that their bodies fell into the river and were carried away. The memorial represents their shoes left behind on the bank.
That's alright, gives me something to shoot for later. Do you read the Bible? I know what you're thinking, "where in the hell is he going with this?!" All over the place, it's what I do, comes with the territory. By comes I don't mean manslaughter which is what every man reading this is guilty of if in fact women are guilty of murder for having an abortion.
So there's this story in the Bible where Peter, one of Jesus's homeboys was like I'll lay down my life for you dude and Jesus was all, yeah, ok! As if!! And Peter goes I'm serious, if they're gonna kill you they can kill me too, I'm down for the cause bro! And Jesus is all, check it out, Peter, before the rooster crows you'll deny me three times.
Alright, so me and Pura or, Pura and I, for those of you in attendance with literary backgrounds toured Saint Peters Basilica in Budapest last week.
First and only church I ever had to pay money just to walk inside. Can you believe that shit?! I don't mean the collection plate, either, the one they pass around during service. And not all the offering boxes where there's candles or art work you're expected to donate money to look at. I mean just to step foot inside the joint—$14! R.I.P off.
There was a big painting in there on the second floor. Lots of massive, gorgeous paintings actually but I only took a picture of one. Thing was nearly as tall as me and I'm 6-1. It had a fancy gold frame around it or at least I think it was gold; there's a buncha signs that say don't touch. As much as I suck at following rules, I abided. It depicts a portrait of Saint Peter staring up to the sky and, above his right shoulder, a giant cock.
That's what it's called. Don't take my word for it, read that nomenclature below the painting. I'm just a messenger here.
In the spirit of sticking to script and having no particular direction with whatever I'm about to say, we went to a Hive meet-up here in England the day we got back. Our plane was scheduled to land on the 18th which was the day of the meet-up and I'd already promised @livinguktaiwan we'd be there. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's
telling you what I'm good at doing what I say. So we rescheduled our flight out of Europe a day early, jumped on a Northern train in Manchester and did what I said we would. I've been wanting to meet her for however many years we've been doing this anyway and wouldn't you know, she was more interested in Pura than me! Happens all the time.
But I finally got to meet @stevenwood. I've only read about a half million of his words and that was just one comment, he's as much of a pleasure to be around as I anticipated. Being able to put some mug shots on some handles was worth the early plane ride. And hair! Coolest hair style award goes to @rimicane, she's a sweetheart and I'm not just saying that cuz I'm jealous of her dreads.
Seriously, when I got back to the flat, I clicked about a half dozen follow buttons which isn't something I'm a big fan of doing. I like to take my time clicking follow buttons cuz I'm just as quick to unfollow someone and some people act like an unfollow is a knife to the chest or gun to the head depending what country you're in, right @slobberchops? Especially women! Relax, Steve, that's not a sexist statement it's a true statement. Trust me, I'm a feminist, I know these things.
Where do I go from here? Transitions are hard to shake like manslaughter charges. I've probably come across an opportune moment to segue into something about rainbows but I don't wanna cross any lines like P's and Q's.
Get ahold of yourself, P's and Q's are short for Pints and Quarts. Back in the 18th century, 'mind your P's and Q's' was English pub talk for don't get so drunk you make an arse of yourself. I mean really, what'd you think I meant by rainbows?
"A world where entertainers are required to explain their self."
'Get off my property!'
I'd like to welcome everyone back to the 21st century where I recently saw two of my favorite content producers who've been around longer than most of us give a detailed description explaining their design process because some dude's so psychologically challenged he formulated one of the most elaborate conspiracy theories I've seen on this chain in however long I've been here. Whatever happened to just turning the channel?
Nowadays comedians are being physically assaulted before live audiences for cracking a joke. Jokes are meant to be funny. If you don't think they're funny, turn the channel, watch Fox Noose or some other one-sided agenda pushing program. Not one time has a joke like ha-ha, LoL caused physical harm. No knock-knock joke in the history of knock-knock jokes ever scratched someone or drawn blood or even hinted at bruised flesh. They're just words.
If you think you're confused, try being me. I'm not just a gas pedal at the mercy of a dozen jackrabbits in fear for their life from a rattlesnake strike when I'm online. I'm like this all the time, ain't that right @stevenwood?
I was telling him or @c0ff33a or @shanibeer or someone I haven't name dropped yet how I regularly forget how public this is. It typically isn't until someone's grandma drops me a line I realize I said 🌈 or 💃 or 🤯🔫 or worse and feel about this BIG CUUUT!!
Blurred for obvious reasons