They say it's not the heat, but the humidity. I beg to differ. Try living in our house for a while and experience both.
Yes, it's been a while - but we're back: live from the sweat box.
Before I continue...I know there was some speculation as to whether or not
Reg would actually perform in his underwear. Sorry to tell you, he will not be immortalized as "gitchman". Rather, he chose a snappy little shorts ensemble, complete with black socks and dress shoes. It was a festival of fashion. Our whole show had that "look at me, looking at you, looking at me" vibe. When all's said and done, it was all about the style. Sure, there was a touch of when worlds collide feel to the whole thing, but a few cocktails would have taken care of it all. Ah, the perils of opening a show...but I digress...
So, lots of stuff has gone on this week. Tyson skulked off, and Jacko got off. Who'da thunk it? Seems the man in the mirror wasn't as bad as he initially claimed and the jury told him to beat it. Though we're all still unclear whether he's black or white, we know for sure that Billie Jean is not his lover, and he wants us to leave him alone.
In other news...Reg has a birthday on Wednesday. Here's a picture of the lovely new jacket I got him. If any of you would like to send greetings, that's nice...but know that Reg prefers cash or cheques.
Well, that's it for now. Need to refill the blender with slushy drinks and find a fan. We don't need Pat O'Brien telling us how hot we are...