3.21.2002
Home of Lady Potamus
Hello Darlings! Lady Potamus here!
Well, it seems that Joey Michaels has started his own Live Journal.
"Lady Potamus," I hear you exclaim, "what about Teatro Triste del Clown?"
Well, I am happy to say that he will still update here occasionally, but that this is destined to become my home on the Internet.
I am very pleased to have all this space to myself.
It reminds me of the time my first husband, David (which he pronounced DAH-veed) moved out on me. The year was 1936. The place, New York City. Well, I was stunned and disapointed to learn that he had been having an affair with Dorothy Parker and hand't bothered to involve me! I gave him a piece of my mind and he asked me for a piece of ass. I was so angry that I hurled the urn containing his mothers ashes at him.
He had absolutely no sense of humor about this, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.
Well, at first, I was morose. Our spacious Park Avenue apartment was huge and lonely without him. I sulked, wrote bad poetry while under the influence of heavy drink, and masturbated loudly on the balcony.
I was unprepared, however, for the knock on my door one cold December night. Wearing only a flannel nightie (which was considered quite risque in those days), I threw open the door and who should burst into my room, but Bill and Earl Bolick, better known as The Blue Sky Boys.
Well, they launched into a rousing rendition of "Longest Train I Ever Saw," immediatly before I launched into pulling the longest train I ever pulled, if you know what I mean. Ah, brotherly love took on a whole new meaning and by the morning, I decided to invest all of David's money in the Grand Ole Opry. David hated country music, the heathen.
Anyhow, have a sip of brandy on me! Better yet, off of me!
Oh, I feel witty this morning!
Hello Darlings! Lady Potamus here!
Well, it seems that Joey Michaels has started his own Live Journal.
"Lady Potamus," I hear you exclaim, "what about Teatro Triste del Clown?"
Well, I am happy to say that he will still update here occasionally, but that this is destined to become my home on the Internet.
I am very pleased to have all this space to myself.
It reminds me of the time my first husband, David (which he pronounced DAH-veed) moved out on me. The year was 1936. The place, New York City. Well, I was stunned and disapointed to learn that he had been having an affair with Dorothy Parker and hand't bothered to involve me! I gave him a piece of my mind and he asked me for a piece of ass. I was so angry that I hurled the urn containing his mothers ashes at him.
He had absolutely no sense of humor about this, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.
Well, at first, I was morose. Our spacious Park Avenue apartment was huge and lonely without him. I sulked, wrote bad poetry while under the influence of heavy drink, and masturbated loudly on the balcony.
I was unprepared, however, for the knock on my door one cold December night. Wearing only a flannel nightie (which was considered quite risque in those days), I threw open the door and who should burst into my room, but Bill and Earl Bolick, better known as The Blue Sky Boys.
Well, they launched into a rousing rendition of "Longest Train I Ever Saw," immediatly before I launched into pulling the longest train I ever pulled, if you know what I mean. Ah, brotherly love took on a whole new meaning and by the morning, I decided to invest all of David's money in the Grand Ole Opry. David hated country music, the heathen.
Anyhow, have a sip of brandy on me! Better yet, off of me!
Oh, I feel witty this morning!
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