A Monkey's Nature Walk

Them's a lot of geeses.















AHHHHH!! A SNAKE!















I wish I could fly, too....















It's a turtle-jerk!


M. PotPie

An Ode To My Testes

There is one left, there is one right,
They get massaged nearly every night.

Most often by me, sometimes by another,
But never my sister, brother or mother.

Unguents, creams, salves and lotions,
I've even treated them to a magic potion.

I'd happily put them on display,
But once they're out, out they stay.

I've named one Paul, the other Mary,
If I don't keep them shaved they get quite hairy.

I'm talking about my Testes, you see
We are best friends, my balls and me.


M. PotPie

The Tumor

I have a tumor and I've named him Fred,
If he grows any bigger then I'll be dead,

But Fred will live on in a bottle at a museum,
And people will walk by and look up and see him,

They'll say "What the hell?" and "What is that?"
And Fred will say "I'm a tumor and you're fat!"

Children will cry and men will point
And hippies will laugh after smoking a joint

And I'll be dead and buried and gone
But Fred will live on and on and on.

More(bid) Poetry

Symmetry

I once knew me a girl that looked just like you,
We went on a date and she lost her shoe.

Well ok, her whole foot, but the shoe was attached,
So I cut off the other to make sure she matched.

Short..but not so sweet.

Come see me in prison, come see me in jail.
Come every Sunday, come without fail.

We'll talk about the weather, we'll talk about our kids
And if you're real nice I'll tell where their bodies are hid.


M. PotPie

Pillowtalk

I can still smell your perfume...lilacs and citrus, soft and sharp together. I loved to lay beside you and smell your hair, nuzzle up to it and inhale, breathing in the life that sustained me. Where did it go wrong? Was it the poison?

I'm sorry about that. But you were going to leave me, I know it. I know it! Don't try to tell me otherwise; it was all over you like a cheater's musk. You smelled like a liar that day, cigarettes and bowling alley and whore.

Besides, I didn't give you enough to kill you, it only made you sick. And I took care of you, didn't I? I nursed you back to health, sat by your bed, held your hand, fed you, bathed you, treated you like a queen! But then you had your relapse. And you got worse. And had to go stay at the hospital and I couldn't take care of you anymore and after you went to intensive care I couldn't sit by your side and couldn't talk to you and...and...

They found the poison. But it was too late.

Someone's knocking at the door. It's probably that detective and his bag of questions. He'll ask and ask and scribble on his cheap notepad and I'll have to tell him about your affairs and how you broke them off to come back to me. He'll believe me. He has to.

But first I'll smell your pillow one more time.


M. PotPie

Fun With Weather

Ok. So yesterday Stormy & I are driving back from St. Louis on Hwy. 55 going North. It was a beautiful day in St. Louis...82 and sunny. We had gone for a walk, were wearing shorts...awesome. We left around noon for the roughly five hour drive back to the Madison area, going up 55 all the way through Illinois (which, pardon me for saying, is the flattest, dullest drive in America..though I've never been to Kansas or Nebraska).

We had the windows down, the radio up, and our spirits were high...until we got around Normal, Il. The weather turns cold, the skies cloud over...and then turn green. Pea-fucking-soup green.

Now Stormy is from the East coast and has never seen the sky turn this color. I had told her before that if she ever sees the sky that color to "seek shelter immediately". So she asks "Is that the color green you were talking about?"

Oh shit. Yes. Yes it is. We turn the music off and try to find a station with a weather report. This is what we heard:

"...tornado warning until 3pm..and we're getting reports of a tornado touching down at the WalMart on Hwy 9. We can't confirm or deny this report...blah blah blah".

We didn't hear the rest. I looked up to see an exit for Hwy 9. I looked to the left and saw no WalMart....

But I did see a huge fucking tornado. Maybe 300 yards away. That's when the hail started..bigger than golf balls..it sounded like someone was banging on the car with a hammer. We got under an overpass but were directly in the path of the tornado. There were a couple of guys outside their cars..of course..and one of them comes running up screaming "The tornado's coming! The tornado's coming!" and everyone takes off as fast as they can drive. Zero visibility. Hail. Driving rain. 55 mph. Scary.

In retrospect we should've stayed where we were and gone up into the crook of the overpass. But we didn't. We managed to survive anyway.


M. PotPie

Happy Easter!

I love Wisconsin.....

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/montellhoward1.html?link=rssfeed

Later, Bitches. I'm off to St. Louis.


M. PotPie

Last night I dreamt of a neck. It was long and pale, slender, translucent veins filled with moonlight. I caressed it...it was cold, but in a soothing way, like your toes dipped in a lake at sunset. I had an insane urge to bite it, to tear it open and taste the liquid moonlight, it would fill me with power and I could fly.

I kept my cool and settled for choking it, my thumbs leaving two rosy depressions like eyes in the skin. I thought it much improved for a moment, but the eyes began to stare at me, accusing me, and I had to poke them out.

It wasn't moonlight that filled those beautiful veins, it was a fine white powder, pixie dust or snow, I couldn't tell. I lapped it up like a dog and waited for the magic. It never came.


M. PotPie

A Poem for Chicken's Bunnies

The bunny is funny, he's funny they say,
And they tap their nose which says they knows
That they are wise and long in the day.

That bunny's not funny, not funny at all
You said just look at his eyes, his beady black eyes
Those aren't Summer eyes, they're the eyes of late Fall.

But all of them laughed, yes they laughed 'till they split
And they all went to their beds and layed down their heads
And when the bunny was done on their graves did you spit.


Happy Easter!


M. PotPie

Today, I Hurt

I've discovered something rather distressing over this past weekend:

I am no longer young.

I'm not old, mind you, but I'm certainly no longer a youth. I'm in pain, you see, from physical exertion. Softball, to be precise. In anticipation of my excursion into the world of movement outside my normal realm (sex and hiking, mostly) I devoted two full hours to stretching and hydration.

This was not enough.

So today, after running, throwing, hitting and diving around for two hours yesterday, I'm stiff and sore. And I'll tell you a secret: I like it.

What's more distressing to me is that I'm sore from playing softball. It's not even baseball. Maybe I'm a bit of a purist, or, I dare say, a snob, but softball is to baseball as putt-putt is to real golf. So to be in pain after playing softball...meh. (by the way, I've learned a lot of new terms and words reading your blogs, and 'meh' has turned out to be one of my favorites).

And yet...I would still choose softball over work. Or over most other things for that matter.

Ok, I have no point. Right now I'm just posting to post...or to avoid work. It's kind of like eating simply because food is in front of you and that's what you're supposed to do with it.

Meh.


M. PotPie

You're Not The Boss Of Me!

Or maybe you are. I've been bullied into posting by a certain Gallus Domesticus.

So here it is:

Post. Eat it.

Welcome to the Marsh

This is the view from my back yard. So are the others. It's nice here.













































M. PotPie

Short & Sweet

I will murder you. I will rip and tear your flesh and feed bloody gobbets to the crows.

Or maybe I'll just make you a grilled cheese sandwich.


M. PotPie

(Contented Sigh)

Friday: I really don't remember. There were many gin & tonics. I think I made stir-fry.

Saturday: Slept in. Debating whether or not to go camping, we spent most of the morning nekkid. Finally decided to go camping even though it was cloudy, windy and about 45 degrees. Set up camp, made a fire, made dinner (beef stew...yumm..over an open fire when it's frigid out there's not much better food-wise), drank beer, told ghost stories. Oh, and Stormy made the best s'more like thing ever: Two Girlscout shortbread cookies, heated...one Thin Mint, heated...one marshmallow, toasted. One delicious treat. I'm pretty sure I was moaning while eating it. Then a little grass and bed time. It was cold. Very, very cold. I slept well, Stormy did not. We need to get her a new sleeping bag.

Sunday: Woke up early...and it was colder than the night before. It took a while to get the fire going as the wood was a bit wet...but after a bit of coaxing we had fresh coffee, bacon, eggs and fried taters. Mmm mmm good! Packed up camp, went for a hike around the lake and managed to leave before the pouring rain started. Got back to my place, took a long, long, long hot shower together, changed into PJ's and spent the night kicking back.

Monday: Got up early again, decided against tailgating as the temperature was about 40 with steady 25mph winds. I lit the grill outside (which was a pain to get going with all the wind), grilled up the beer brats I had made the night before and opened the first beer at 9:30am. Then it was off to Miller Park to see the Brewers beat up on the Pirates on opening day. Beer and peanuts at the ballpark.

Well, that's it in a nutshell. The photography bit didn't get done.. I snapped a few shots but it was really gray and drab out. Not a good day for it. Cest la vie.


M. PotPie