fFfFFFFrRrRRRRiIiIIIIdDdDDDDaAaAAAAyYyYYYY. (<-can you find the code?)
Did you guys ever watch The Jinx? I know, I know – I’m super late to the party. We finally watched it this week. Finished last night. My jaw is still nowhere near my face and it’s starting to look weird. (also, I promise no spoilers in this post!)
Like, the whole time I thought, “He’s so guilty. How is this going to end? He’s so obviously guilty. These people are morons. He’s so blatantly guilty. I’m going to freak my ish if this goes the way I think it’s going to go.”
And THEN. Those last.few.seconds.of.the.entire.documentary. WHAAAAAAAAAATTTTTAAAAAAAAAA. Like, my blood turned to ice. My whole body went sort of numb for a few seconds. My face is still stuck in the “AHHHLSDFJ@#$@SDFD@S!!!” expression.
The whole documentary series reminds me of The Staircase. Did you ever watch that?! True fact, it was that documentary series alone that caused Aaron and me to spiral into this deep, dark fascinating web of forensic mania. Years and years ago, we obsessively watched The Staircase in our downtown Kansas City loft with a box of cheap wine and a trough of Chipotle burrito bowls. It’s all very similar! (minus the loft and boxed wine)
But my main question today, only hours after having finished The Jinx is – where’s Durst now? Is he back singing lead in Limp Bizkit? (oh he’s not. . .? oh.) Is he in orange? On the streets? What’s happened to him since? I saw something about an arrest in New Orleans, but nothing really past that. SO WHERE IS HE?
Back in his band, right?
Let’s play a game.
Who do you think would win in a fight?:::
Fleetwood Mac vs. Led Zeppelin
Wilma Flintstone vs. Betty Rubble
Windshield wipers vs. two wooden spoons
A box of tissue paper vs. a conch shell.
(^^these are the things I think about. help me.)
So he never sang for Limp Bizkit?
Did his kid?
. . . Grandkid?
I told you about this on the Facebook, but the Facebook is super lame for me and never shows ANYTHING TO ANYONE. So I’ll tell you here!
For the rest of this year, I’ve partnered up with Wisconsin Cheese Board (basically a dream for me and a total nightmare for Aaron), where I’ll come up with amazingly simple cheesy recipes, like that one raht thar ^^^. It’s a canapé, for game day! (oh that rhymed) All it is is bread, tomato, cheddar, bacon, chives and hot sauce. Ridiculous. Here’s the direct highway to that recipe, if you need to inhale 86 immediately. Which you do.
. . . See, I thooought Durst was way too old to be in Limp Bizkit!
Also, why do those two words suck so bad? Limp and Bizkit. Nasty.
Long weekend plans!? We’re headed to the ever-so charming and quaint town of Eureka Springs, AR bright and early in the morning. Aaron’s mom has a cute little house reserved for all of us waaay up by the Crescent Hotel. Which HI, IS MASSIVELY HAUNTED. I can’t wait. I want to go have drinks in the lounge and wait for an old woman in white to appear in the walls or shove me into my glass. Ghosts need a drink, too!
Which reminds me, on the way back from my birthday train/wine trip to (Pee Wee) Hermann, we capped off the train ride with a round of chilling ghost stories. I have a couple. I’ll tell you someday in another Flotsam. DO YOU HAVE ANY? I’m irrationally obsessed with ghost stories and I desperately need you to tell me yours! And I’ll read them all to Aaron on the way to Eureka tomorrow, right after we listen to this. Duh. I know you have the goods. Spill it! Oh my gosh I’m going to barf.