hold my calls, shirley

(note: this post was created the other night; I am now in California)

The air will taste fresher tomorrow, the Cheetos will be crisper, the Budweiser will be richer and more complex.

That is because tomorrow I am officially on god-diggity-damn HIATUS, you poor working stiffs.

I will fly to California at 9am. California is a land of righteous yellow sunshine and sea breezes and bouncing basketballs, where men are free to grow the moustaches of their choice. Where children wake up with smiles on their faces and the homeless body-surf themselves clean. I can think of no better place to launch the Summer of Slack.

Moustache Update:
6/2-6/15: HIATUSing in cali with in-laws, moustache unlikely
6/18-6/22: back at old job for one additional week of work, moustache possible
6/23-7/22: more glorious HIATUS, in NYC. Moustache probable. Fuck that. Moustache definite.

It's a nice stretch of relaxed living and I deserve it. I will be taking care of Baby Bungle on Mondays and Fridays, so it's really only three days a week that I will be completely free to do whatever stupid thing I can think of, which means I'll probably have only 12 such days all Summer. Shit, I feel like it's over already.

7/23: HIATUS and moustache end. I make two columns on a piece of looseleaf paper and decide if life is still worth living. If so, I return to job.

I'll miss you, Summer of '07. We only danced for a short while, but I'll never forget the way you felt against me. Or the way your teeny mouth quivered when I told that my moustache was your moustache. Girl, we were meant for each other. Kiss me again before I grow up.