I guess I'm havin' a bad week!

So, bad week two ways (doesn't that sound like the name of a Chinese dish?!) —

1. A woman wrote in to tell me that she hated my ding dong updates, and to stop them!

Honestly, why do people think they should tell you what to do? Maybe I should write her back and say, "don't read my ding dong updates, instead!" If you know you're going to get a face full of my swinging, blinging ding dong when you come to my opinions website, then maybe it is YOU who is making the bad decision! My decision to run this website is great (and so is the ding dong! No instances this week!).

2. My Halloween costume got shot down by Beef.

Dudes, I spent the better part of eight hundo getting this fancy custom Italian silk Harlequin costume made, and Beef goes and doggs the thing immediately! What kills me is that he was right, I didn't look too cool. I had been up super late lookin' at some old Picassos and I gradually came to see the Harlequin as a beautiful, tragic figure, and before I knew it I was like, "Hey, it's daytime in Italy, I'll call 'em up!" Significativo Doctore, a specialty art/clothing house, FedExed the thing the same day, and it was on my doorstep by the time I woke up later the next afternoon.

Anyhow, I got to re-think up some Halloween costume ideas since I ain't going to get it on the waist-line dressed as no clown. I might be James A. Folgers (of Folgers coffee fame - I been into the idea of havin' some muttonchops lately), or just maybe a topless steelworker with a couple Tecates in his toolbelt. I already got most of that stuff lyin' around — I'd just need the safety helmet, tool belt, and weathered work boots. Oh, and the leather gloves and safety goggles. Pants and Tecate: check!

Alright, I better get on down to this shindig of mine and throw my hat into the ring. I been pretty Klondike lately and I got some designs on Boliqua, this bubble-butt Haitian on from down the bar at Rodrigo's that I invited. Daaamn but she got some bubble butt!

Peace logo with peace finger-sign flying wings,
-=RAY=-

Should I do a ding dong update? I got a lot of good mail.

Did folks like my ding dong update? I mean, I got a lot on my plate already what with updatin' Ray's Place all the time and keepin' Prime Time on the rails and all that, but if people were interested in a side project where I regularly said what was new with the ding dong, I might be into that. Will have to wait and see how it plays out.

On a more serious note, I would like to take a look at some problems that I have with the United States Constitution. In Article 14, it clearly states that...heh, I really had you goin' there, didn't I!? Today in the shower the ding dong looked pretty normal, and the water ran off it in wonderful ad hoc rivulets. (I been thinkin' of studyin' law, hence the legal terminology.)

Had some good corned beef and fries for lunch, on down at the Gate. My Prime Time artist Curmudgeon was in town, and he straight-up loves on some pub food even though he is cOld World Queens. Funny how a dude is, but then again, I dig on sushi despite that in Japan they eat vending machine underwear instead of Starbucks. Or is that too old of a funny reference? Might be. Peace though.

Some critical news about my ding dong.

Just kidding! Hi, man. Thanks for dropping by old Ray's blog for some news that is definitely not about my ding dong. I mean, unless you want to write in and ask me what's the latest haps with that little sucker. I ain't at all shy about that stuff—I think it's ridiculous to act like this one thing that all dudes have is like completely weird and different between each guy and needs to be hidden, both mentally and physically. Who's Wes Craven, again? A guy's ding dong would be, like, if Wes Craven [I think it's Wes Craven] made a movie about a man who had this terrible secret and always wore a lead codpiece and at the end, during the heartbreaking final scene where he is on stage and a famous doctor removes the codpiece to show what made the man so insane all these years, the audience would see his ding dong and go "ah, so that's what it was. A blasted ding dong!" You know? The people could be like turn-of-the-century English.

I'm real glad we got silly words like ding dong and ding-a-ling to sort of take the seriousness out of the subject. I mean really, people, why all the fuss? You'd think the little thing could glow and pass laws, everyone's so up in arms about the peter all the time.

That actually reminds me of some news about my ding dong. The other day after I got out the pool I noticed a grain of sand on my ding dong, and I tried to scrape it off but the shit wouldn't move. I was immediately all like, "aw crud, a herpe! What did I ever do?!" but then I remembered that herpes are concave and so after a little more examinin' and some time spent pressing my bozack into the Google search field, I discovered it was just a little old ingrown hair. Tweeze, tweeze! No more "fool's herpe" for Ray.

[dramatically pulls burgundy velvet cape back across self, hiding ding dong] AND THAT...IS ALL FOR THIS WEEK!