Unidentified photographer took this quality picture of me cutting the concrete during the dance portion of the impromptu Mustache Contest. Notice that this image reveals I would have had a better chance to win had the contest been a Drunk Hobo Dance-A-Thon. I swear I saw a bum dancing just like this in front of Speed Street's Main Stage a few weeks ago, that is where I must have learned the groove.
Less than a year ago I joined Facelift Book in an effort to have more 'Friends'. What a deal that turned out to be because I now have over 300 of them! So, if you read my blog and did not know that I can be your 'friend' feel free to request and I shall confirm our 'e-friendship'. An additional reason that I set the thing up was so that I could force my B-Log to more corners of the web with electronic ease. As in life I have discovered that nothing that easy occurs without consequences(like being photographed dancing horribly).
While out in public for the first time this year during Sunday's NB UAR I was encouraged to take part in the Mustache Contest down at the Main Stage. When I got to the apron I immediately figured out that I was not going to be judged on my face art alone. Thank you for the encouragement people. No, I was going to have to dance in front of a hillside of staring cycling Tifosi. Even with a few of the hoppy beverages inside of me my heart began to race. I have never enjoyed dancing since being a small child because I never considered myself good at it. Now I was going to have to do it in front of many people and an MC. Fear set in, I was first in line and then the music started as my inner body embarrassment sky rocketed almost causing the involuntary function of my repository system to stop. I came close to freezing solid forgetting that I grew up in the awesome 80s and knew a few break dancing moves which I wish I would have pulled out from deep inside my suitcase of dance skills. Instead the memory of that Hobo NASCAR fan dancing in the sun in front of the Foghat cover band playing "A fool for the City" came into my mind and I tried my best to imitate his lucid moves.
My super white romp skills were not enough for the victory but they were enough to be Tagged, one of the negative side effects of being on Facelift Book. If I had tagged you I could understand but I do not do any tagging at all unless it is during that game that Ms. Arcen and I play with the dogs out in the way back. Come to think of it, her and I modified the original game not long ago by adding the aspect of an arm punch. We call it Pag. So, we run around the yard pagging each other on the arm yelling PAG while the dogs chase us around and try to get in on the full contact fun. I think that Facelift Book should have an application where I can start pagging people who tag me. Note to self, that e-game would be fun and all but it may be a whole lot easier to just continue to avoid society.
Addendum to Today's Post is called the Compost:
For the past 3 months I have been working on my food production and waste compost pile/box built by me. I have been taking temperature readings since last week and have been blown away to discover a constant 140F in the inside center of the pile. My friend taught me that Composting is a spiritual event so I spear it religiously in the evenings which turns the nitrogen loaded goodness into black earth chunks. More on this to follow.