Maaan, over here at FSD, we don’t like the cold. Okay, well I can’t vouch for everyone, but personally speaking I don’t much like it. Maybe that’s coz I spent so much time outdoors over the summer. Or maybe – and this is more like it – thanks to my newfound devotion to the Ancient Art of Fong Schwong, I decided to move my bed from the middle of the room, because in Fong Schwong (or Fang Schwang, here in the West) you’re not supposed to see the bed in the middle of the room, because it means you’re sleeping with the Grim Reaper. I think.
Thing is, the bed, in accordance with the teachings of Great Emperor Fing Schwing the Fourth, now sports the unfortunate location of being beneath a window. A DRAFTY window. Pillows, posters, wax, calk, cellophane, blankets, Duct tape – nothing seems to keep that motherfucking draft from coming in. It’s like every night when I go to sleep I’m getting molested by an Ice Princess – which isn’t as pleasant as one would imagine. So you know what I did? Fuck a PGW bill I turned the heat on. High. Now I relax at ease on my beanbag, wearing nothing but Hawaiian-print boxers and sipping on sweet cocktails with little umbrellas in ‘em. Oh yes, it’s warm in here.
But it’s still cold outside. Which is why Renee the intern suggested that Tuesday’s song be “It’s Cold Outside” by The Choir. Did we have a dance party again? Only for the duration of the song, where Renee demonstrated a variation on the Twist that she apparently learned from Chubby Checker, whom she met in a dream at a bar called Dr. ATM. Here at Fort Saint Davids, we don’t ask questions, we just let the music play, dance our cares away, and then we get back to work.
Here’s the song. On ice, on us.