Where's Waldtwat?

No, Waldtwat isn't German for "headache." It's German for the SECRET PERSON who is experimenting with image hosting and trying to figure out how to post photos from her camera on the blog. Ooops! I said "her"! Now you know it's a bitch, and not a homey.

Here goes.

DAMMIT! The image was too big to upload on a host! Now I have to find another application which will resize my images!

To be continued...

love,
Waldtwat

Have You Ever...

wanted to grab onto the little rope that preschoolers on school trips hold on to so that they don't wander into traffic? Today, to avoid walking into a man carrying a lot of fruit, I ended up at the end of the preschooler line and it was all I could do to not grab onto the rope. I'd like to propose that the Wieners get our own rope so that we don't (and by "we" I mean Julia) stumble in front of the Hell's Angels motorcycle gang on our way to binge-drinking at the Cock.

love,
Lang

Trimspa baby

The weather is changing. The cold wind is a'blowin. It's getting cozier inside. So, what does that mean? Bikini season is over and I can eat WHATEVER I WANT. Or at least I thought(three slices of pineapple and ham pizza for breakfast/ chips and salsa plus of pint of Chubby Hubby for dinner at 11:30 PM). Apparently, I have gained 7 pounds in 2 weeks. So, I have decided to go on a diet of TrimSpa and Cocaine. And also, TrimSpa has a million dollar competition if you get skinnier. So as long as none of you homos out there tell TrimSpa that in addition to their ephedrine-laced poison pills, I will also be doing lines of crystal off the back of Doc Holiday's toilet, then I have a good shot of winning a luxury sports car or a $50,000 shopping spree. Mmmm can't wait for my winter figure and a coma-inducing heart attack!!

My TicketMaster Time Machine

you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys you guys.

TicketMaster has alerted me that Guster, Rusted Root, and Tracy Chapman are all playing in/around NYC this fall.

I just really had to tell you.

How am I not reduced to a fine powder???

I've been keeping track of my expenses in a little faggy notebook, a journal financier if you will, in order to save money for upcoming trips to Chicago and possibly Portugal. It has been a highly revelatory project, even in its earliest stages:

7/28
$2 iced coffee
$2 iced coffee

7/29
$12 beer (bar)
$10 beer (six pack)

7/30
$1.25 hot coffee
$2 iced coffee
$23.13 IRS penalty
$10 beer (6 pack)

7/31
$28 groceries
$2 iced coffee

8/1
$1.25
$29 bottle Tanqueray

Again, I have to ask a question that I usually reserve for my birthday, "HOW AM I STILL ALIVE??" Should'nt I look a little less like this

and a little more like this?

Stop, My Beating Imagination!

what is this pantsless man doing with this newborn tiger? Where did he GET the newborn tiger? Did he pee it? I'm so weirded out. And who's hairy knee is that, stage left? Hmm, this image is like the accidental Las Meninas of Google Image results. Only the refractions of visual networks and interlacing meaning come from two skinny perverts and a fancy cat, instead of the Spanish Royal Family. But still. I think I'm onto something, and I think it's called a toilet, 'cause I'm puking.

We Haven't Forgotten You, Wiener Blog!

Oh Wieenie B. Listen. We haven't forgotten you. Like the wall next to a child's bed where he, OK, where she, alright where I, wiped all of my boogers growing up, you are a chronicle of the junk we had no place for, so we wiped it all on you. On your eager, beaming face. And in time, we will again.

Now that "Wish You Were Here," our June sketch show at Juvie Hall, has ended, we are gathering strength, like cicadas in the mud, silently watching our biceps grow and our brains throb, and getting some nice relaxing summer travel out of the way. So don't worry. When we emerge as beautiful butterflies in the fall, we will continue to wipe the residue of our useless brainfarts allllllll up on you.



Love,
Jules