Meet Lady
You just know you want her.
Round two hundred?
Khendros: Your pirate facade presents an eerie resemblence to George Clooney
Mark: Arr, boobies!
Khendros: Ninjas rule, sir
Mark: Do you know why ninja hide in the shadows? They heard there were pirates about.
Khendros: Know why pirates always wear eye patches? Because Ninjas keep stealing their fucking eyes
Mark: You know why ninja wear black? It’s to hide the piss stains.
Khendros: Pirates wear red to hide their periods… little girly men, they are
Mark: You know why ninja wear masks? It’s so you won’t see their green faces when pirates get the booty. Again.
Khendros: They gay booty
Khendros: All them seamen out there on their boats
Mark: Two words: Jack Sparrow.
Khendros: Who never once had sex with anyone the entire movie
Khendros: …or all three, for that matter
Mark: Jack Sparrow already had sex with everyone. True fact.
Khendros: No, you’re thinking of Keith Richards
Khendros: Easy to confuse them
Mark: Well they’re both pirates
Mark: It’s understandable
Kilts and pee, oh my!
There aren’t many of them, to be certain, but that makes the danger all the more keen. Maybe you’ve known some of them at one time or another. This is actually pretty likely as many of them are prolific socialites. Or maybe you’ve just seen them in passing; some bare and hairy knees spotted in a shocking and distracting moment. Car crashes aren’t unknown after these distracting encounters, and indeed it is well-known that several highland clans used this as a tactic: Flash your knees and then slaughter the survivors.
They are the Scottish and they are everywhere.
In the last week I’ve seen a shocking amount of honest-to-god Scots wandering about North Las Vegas, considering where we are. Two on Saturday, three on Sunday and one hairy bastard at six o’clock this morning wearing a plaid kilt. The knees, oh god, his knees. I tasted vomit right then.
Mumbling aside, all the highlanders wandering about have put me in mind of how much of a transient city that Las Vegas is. We all come and go, but only a few stay here, and only a few people whom I’ve met, such as my sister-in-law are actually native to here.
Christmas is coming
It’s coming fast, too, don’t forget that. So in that spirit, I’d like to ask that someone chip in and buy me this awesome print:
The Watchman
It was two o’clock in the morning and I was folding laundry when I heard a child scream. I just about browned my pants before I realized that it was just a dog in pain because of an amputation earlier that day. In that spirit, I wrote the Watchman, which in no way reflects my current work environment…
To give out a general update, I’ve been employed by a veterinary clinic up in North Las Vegas as a graveyard shift watchman. Monitor the animals, do the laundry, clean the treatment area, and try to stay awake for twelve hours at a time.
The Watchman
Me, elsewhere
