Sundaze With the Ks

There is really no news worthy of my critique, criticism or mocking obscenity today. It's getting close to X day and all the big mouthed spin dudes are keeping things quiet in hopes that they will be off for as many days as possible during X period.

Like any of you care, here is K-Dough's typical Sunday reality- recounted and itemized:

1. Woke up, read headlines, kissed runny-nosed toddler.
2. Chatted with child, girlfriend-for-life and best friend over earthy espresso and uitsmijter.
3. Drove with best friend to purchase food stuffs: Sustainance assured for coming week.
4. Put sickly child to sweet nappies in womb-like comfy crib with multiple blankies and essential oil wafting from humidifier. Baby spa. Mmmm.
5. Girlfriend-for-life visited fancy South American gay hairdresser to talk about sordid life details of a drag queen and spend exorbidant amounts of cash on great flipped back late 70s Farrah-do. Nice.
6. Wrote a cool roots rock kinda song.
7. Had a glass of Belgium's finest.
8. Traditional Sunday head shaving, followed by steaming hot, extended shower and wanton abuse of girly Aveda bath products to a soundtrack of Galaxie Ambient.
9. Assembled naked, dusty Hypocrismas Tree.
10. Enjoyed more Euro-potent beerful goodness as li'l Kay-Dough decorated tree, broke priceless sentimental heirloom and excitedly freaked out in front of glittery, bulb-straffed needly icon, while repeatedly reciting partial red-nose reindeer lyrics. Sweet.
11. Fired up the stainless steel behemoth BBQ and grilled up some turkey burgers. Covered with hastily whipped-up Morrocan charmoula and old, tangy white cheddar. Mmm.
12. Drank more.
13. Convalesced in festive familial narcossis in front of Finding Nemo with best friend, girlfriend-for-life and child, nestled in warm, cradling sofa arms.

With all the complex thinking, success-seeking, pontificating and immortality chasing, there really is nothing better than that kind of Sunday.