Jessica tossed the keys at me this morning, and told me she was done. Too busy writing to try socializing and blogging and whatnot.
“Besides,” she pouted. “People like you better anyhow. So you drive. But I’m not going back in the basement.”
So welcome, darlings. Welcome back to Casa de Hann-Basquiat. Pull up a chair. Chocolate milk and macamadamia nuts will be served shortly. Later on you might want to drop by — I’m making Sweet & Spicy Chicken Pizza and mixing Greyhounds.
But will there be music, Helena?
Does the pope shit in the woods? Of course there’ll be music, darlings. Little wonder there’ll be music.
Sorry I left you in Jessica’s scary hands. Auntie Helena’s back now, darlings, and everything is going to be all right.
Jessica’s still going to be around, working hard to complete that CHUK thing she’s so excited about (I caught her playing with some raw stewing beef and touching herself most inappropriately, and when I asked what the hell she was doing, she moaned and said it was research for a particularly grotesque scene she’s working on. And she wonders why people were creeped out by her and demanded I return to the helm of the blog.)
I say let Jessica do the scary monsters and super creepy stuff — that’s what she’s good at. I’m back as your favourite dilettante and all around Emcee, darlings. Just call me DJ Delicious Dilettante.
No, scratch that. Don’t ever call me that.
See you on the dance floor, darlings.
Oh, and the Countess Penelope of Arcadia would like me to remind you to always tip your waitress, and that disco sucks.