Is your ten gallon Arby’s hat.

The word of the day is: Zombies.

[ zom-bee ] noun (in voodoo) the body of a dead person given the semblance of life, but mute and will-less, by a supernatural force, usually for some evil purpose. the supernatural force itself. (in popular culture) an undead creature with a reanimated human body, typically depicted in science fiction or horror stories as contagious to the living by bite and vulnerable only to serious head trauma: In the movie, survivors of the apocalypse try to build a barricade to keep the zombies out. Informal. a person whose behavior or responses are wooden, listless, or seemingly rote; automaton. an eccentric or peculiar person. a snake god worshiped in West Indian and Brazilian religious practices of African origin. a tall drink made typically with several kinds of rum, citrus juice, and often apricot liqueur. adjective of or relating to something that was declared concluded, finished, or dead, but surprisingly continues to linger, or comes back in a different version: zombie legislation that was defeated last session; resuscitating zombie corporations through debt restructuring; a zombie ex who texts you out of the blue looking for a hookup.

That photo has absolutely nothing to do with zombies.

But sometimes you go to Savers and you find a navy Dickies speed suit with the words “Rat Attack” in red on the back and you have to buy it because it’s only $7 which seems like a reasonable price to pay for something so fucking random and batshit insane.

Given that the year of Randumb is about to start, I figured it was a good sign.

It’s also skin tight.

I’m gonna have to lay off the cookies for a while so I can rock it full time.

Worth. It.

Okay.

I’m going to keep this brief.

I have to go pack and get ready to leave.

I’m going on vacation.

The kind where I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do.

I’m turning my phone off.

If anything happens while I’m gone, I’m pretty much powerless to stop or fix anything.

I’m not a doctor, electrician, plumber, psychiatrist, necromancer, etc.

So it makes absolutely no sense for you to ruin my vacation with something that has happened not where I am.

It will still be fucked when I get back.

So I can learn about it when I return.

At which point I will deal with it.

If shit goes down where I am, I’ll deal with that.

I’m not going to call you to deal with it.

Because you won’t be there.

Which why it’s my vacation.

Because you won’t be there.

I need some time away from you.

And your smell.

Okay this is going on way longer than I intended.

I have to go get ready to leave you now.

See ya’ in a few days.

More soon. ~SC