Monday, January 25, 2010

I’m just goofin’—New boot Goofin’

Well, I guess it’s been a while since I’ve checked in. Rumors of my demise are justified but false. Alas, I was not incinerated in a fiery blaze, but I can offer no proof to the contrary. Where did I leave off? Ah yes.. The summertime. I was invited to some sort of turtle festival. Being a well-versed lover of all things both terrapin and musical, I ingested the required regimen of under-the-table entheogens and proceeded on my merry way to the party place.

Hooboy. I can still smell that hippie stench. That’s not to say I didn’t participate. Or procreate:

I jest yet again. These were a friendly lot, though. It was incredible to see how many people contributed their own individual efforts to the communal artistic vibe of the gathering. I procured some shirts, some beverages, some flowering herbs, and various other ingestibles. At the peak of my experience, I became one with my surroundings:

If you’d polled me then, I would have bet that you would be unable to discern me from my surroundings from a mere photograph sometime in the future. I would have obviously been proven a moron at this point.

I’ve heard some concerns that I haven’t been making enough inanimate friends on my journeys here in the fine American United States of. Rest easy, readers; I was introduced to a finely carved wooden owl whose handlers managed to match my own in spontaneity and inebrity:

The owl was quite pleasant. We were intimate. I may have a child.

On a somewhat depressing note… in my travels I have missed several connections, most notably Lou Barlow, Penn and Teller, and Montel Williams. My handler is the only one to blame for these oversights. Nevertheless, here I am with an E-list celebrity:

Yes. It’s Wavy Gravy. Yes, you should be underwhelmed. Montel is way cooler. And he smokes almost as much pot.

Perhaps it was the sun getting to me, but I was feeling a bit disoriented. I tried and tried and tried to “come down” as gradually as possible. Nothing was working until these fellows walked out onto the stage:

Guster brought to you courtesy of Pooptoad.

I’d heard them around the house a few times, muffled from inside my handy carrying case. They were much better live. I was relaxed. I tried my hand at the ladies.

Looks like I did pretty well. The only one who didn’t want a piece was third on my list, anyways.

Posted by Pooptoad on 01/25 at 11:09 PM
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