Gimme some of that sauce - dig


Oh Goddamn child, I couldn’t be having a better day. It’s a red-letter day if I ever saw one.

Cal and I just had lunch and summed up our abundant and languid love lives. (You can chose which of us has what, but don’t underestimate K.I.D) After we hurriedly scarfed down our not so healthy bowls we headed out the door, and that’s when it happened.

Cal reached down to pick up a Chronicle, and who was staring back at me? The baby with the special sauce. Ahhh damn. How I love me some of that! And you’ve got to love that picture taken from the only place in Texas to live, at the one and only festival in my own back yard that has me on my heels. That man has me so turned around, I can’t even attempt grammar. Perhaps he could teach me.

Then again the last time I saw him (my birthday) he sang out, “You might got the salad, but I got the dressing!” I guess that means I need another grammatical wizard to come my way, but I could make it work with that man.

Sure, sure, we all know the repeat songs, but if you haven’t seen him live try it out. That man will have you wetter than a Popsicle on hot summer day. So I picked up the magazine and restrained myself from running out the door with the whole rack. If only I could get that into my VW. Maybe a smash and dash for the whole rack is in order? Then I could turn into a teenager and decorate my whole apartment with his beautiful face. Hell, put me in the back of the bus with that boy!

For right now, I’m going to settle for a little me time with my copy of the mag. Doesn’t get any better than this.