Better get to the grocery store before the crowds swarm. It's the big day! Downton Abbey! Hoot mon!
It has occurred to me lately that this is, in fact, my last rodeo. Okay. I hate rodeos. Men being mean to animals? Chaps? I'm not wild about cowboys, come to think of it. Oh, I loved Roy Rogers. He put sissy in the west way before any sore back, homoerotic soap opera. All that fringe, all those spangles. He was as close to Little Richard as any boring white guy in spurs is ever gonna get. He got to sing with the Sons Of The Pioneers and snuggle with the young Dale Evans, too. She was quite the dish in those early movies. A divorcee, too! Man.
My point, if I have a point, is that I'm on the outside of it all again. It's a little bit lonely out here but it's not bad. If you go outside to play today, be an indian. Wear fuchsia.