Required a brief mental hiatus. The concept of updating escaped me. Buzzlebee, make wrapstuff!

For those keeping score, I have yet to break recent tradition. It's not easy being green......Green Lantern! If justice exists on this earthly plane, I will awaken some dusky morn to discover a power ring from Oa resting on my pillow. The most sincere pillow in all of Alphabet City. When the Green Pumpkin rises from the patch to distribute prophylactics to the community, he will see the sincerity in my adoring eyes.

Say spanky, what the heck ya been do'en dese last few days there huh?

Freaking the fuck out, nice to meet you. Yes, I come from the German freak the fuck outs. Long lineage of freak the fuck outs populated the Midwest ya know.

Alrighty. Last night somewhere in the realm of ten, chillin on the beat ass couch, watching cartoons in my boxer shorts. Scratching my belly, cracking myself up, clenching my fists, you know, the normal stuff. A polite knock raps on my front door.

Timeout. Lose the boxer shorts. It was definitely nakie time in casa spanky. I possibly might have spiked my keyboard like a touchdown catch at the office that day and announced loudly that it was indeed "nakie time!".

So, I am scrambling for clothes. Great grey ghost! The bulk of acceptable spanky gear was currently having a scheduled play date with the cleaners around the corner. Sucked it in for some tight jeans, and plow through the opening of my Flash t-shirt. Another knock, this time more commanding. A third knock, downright sassy.

Now, I am curious, listening to the thumping wood with my head tilted to the side like a hungry spaniel. Slither my bare feet up to the door. Check the locks. Good boy, already set em.

Willing sound to muffle, I ease the metal shutter on the spyhole open. My man has his forearm blocking the fisheye piece. He's cold hard lamping up against my door. Can't see nothin but haloed forearm. Don't say a fucking word. Keep that fucking shutter open and watch this muthafucka here.

He holds his pose for at least a minute or two, before he steps back. Leans in to do the old cyclops squint through the open aperture. Impossible to read from his expression whether he has recognised that another man is inches from his face. Roman ceaser hair cut, pastel striped polo shirt, young and dumb looking white boy. He stands there waiting for any sign or response from a strange freak's entryway.

He remains perched on the balls of his feet, desperately wanting an answer. I believe I was witness to a signifigant emotional moment in this boy's life. He froze for a moment, made an uneasy face, and quickly pushed the elevator call button, hoping the doors would open immediately. Realising no hasty mechanical savior was on sentry, if he wanted to avoid interaction with an apartment dweller that reeks like me, he had to break south. And south he broke. Sprinted down the stairwell. I imagined a baseball cap being turned backwards to enact turbo mode.

Now I believe the baby bee was buzzing around and got the proverbial more scared of me than I was of him. I didn't recognise sonny from a rotting tree stump. You approach me unannounced, I might just get a wee paranoid. Fuck, even a court summons I don't want, much less a potential tussle. I will turn on the glands to beat your ass back. You catch whiff of them and don't like the aroma, that ain't got nothin to do with me anymore.

Granted I did lock up the one unbarred windows. A window directly attached to my fire escape. Village tardoonie that stupors my building still hasn't replaced the rusty gate he removed. Fluster. One thing to be cock deisel, nother just to have some common sense. I wasn't afeared of the pipsqueak. I wasn't leaving my panties open for easy access neither.

While sincerly able to easily obliterate the short pang of danger I experienced, I could not shake the sprawling questions that erupted from my brain. I mean, who the fork was that guy? Why did he act in a somewhat awkward mannner? How mathematically possible is it that you haven't peeped all your neighbors? I mean, what the fuck?!?

No sleep. No rest. No peace. No siesta. No calm intraspection. No lucid dreaming. No sheet snuggling. No warm fuzzies. No drooling satisfaction. No heavy somber. No fucking part of beddy bye whatsoever.

Dats where it's at.

Oh, and my sis is visiting Thursday. Maybe, if some wind dragon doesn't blast his breath weapons against the flight path. Hurricane Marmosita, or whatever the shrew's name is, might cause some air traffic problems getting into New England. Will I use that weather news as an excuse to procastinate on the slack shrubbery altar? Of course I will. Where the fuck have you been?