Freaktastic.


Bit rushed at the moment. Be with you in just a tick. One, mississippi. Two, mississippi. Okay... two ticks.


Yeah, I know - we're all busy, right? Well, until you've walked a mile in my shoes. (Or a few yards, even.) Big Green may seem like a bunch of slackers, but let me tell you... we're.... anything... snxxxxx..... Oh, sorry. Drifted off there. Walking a mile in my shoes can get to be a tiring business. Here's what we're up against on a typical day:


6:00 a.m. - Snoring loudly. Man-sized tuber sends his daily complaint email to the codes department; still no response after five years, but... he's a plant, okay? Takes a little learning to get an idea into his fibrous head. But I digress.


8:15 a.m. - Band meeting. Only Marvin (my personal robot assistant) shows up. Which is fitting, because he schedules the meetings unbeknown to the rest of us. As we sleep in our various sections of the mill, Marvin sits at an empty wooden table in the old forge room, making whirring and clicking sounds for about 45 minutes before moving along to his next scheduled duty.


10:45 a.m. - Up and at 'em, as they used to say. At least where I'm concerned. Matt's been out feeding the birds, beavers, and other assorted creatures since about 5:00 a.m. (Did I leave that out?) John is out feeding the squirrels. I'm feeding myself at the breakfast table, sitting across from a very grizzly looking Mitch Macaphee (resident mad scientist). Another experiment gone wrong, by the look of him.


12:17 p.m. - A quick run around the park. Exercise? Heaven forefend! No sir, it's me running away from that guy who's been trying to serve us with an eviction notice for the last five years. This happens almost anytime I nip out to the store for Necco Wafers or the like. 'Round the part we go, several times, until he tires. Now, this wouldn't happen if they'd merely accept alternative currency in payment.... like, I don't know.... Necco Wafers, perhaps? Would such a humble offering once again save the Cheney Hammer Mill from the wrecking ball? Can't say. Out of breath.


3:45 p.m. - Cantaloupes! Hundreds of them left on our doorstep by parties unknown. We were just about to go into our makeshift studio and work on some makeshift songs, and now this! We decide to task the Lincolns (posi- and antimatter) with disposing of them properly. I'm hoping this won't result in bushel-loads of melon balls. Hate them things.


5:08 p.m. - Writing the ludicrous blog entry for the week. Not sure who reads this shit, but whoever it is... god bless 'em, anyway. Pressing publish.... NOW. Freak-tastic!

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