Spring is the time for . . . FUCKIN OUTSIDE.
...is basically the chorus of a song I heard played by a lone guitarist on the stage of Minnapolis's Fitzgerald Theater Friday night. There was beer for sale, but due to confusion, I ended up holding a Mountain Dew. I had this glowing neon green mug in my hand, like a jar of radioactive
waste, and like radioactive waste, it was delicious.
My zombie movies for this weekend have been selected:
Heahand
HeahI realize that none of these were suggested, but I sort of arranged Netflix before I read the blog comments. But in the future, THESE COMMENTS WILL BE HEEDED!
I may also throw in
Dead and Breakfast, Morgan's suggestion, as it has postive reviews. But that'll likely be a next-timer.
And Morgan, you're right, Emily was out of the country teaching . . . but now she's back, like Jesus, and twice as furious.
I just realized, if for some reason those Netflix links don't work, this post will be considerably less cool.
So put on your hoping hats.