CBGB's Flyer., originally uploaded by Kluv32.

"Oh, the glory... when you ran outside with your shirt tucked in, and your shoes untied... And you told me not to follow you."

Just a friendly update to let y'all know that I've dropped a double-dose of Mixtape goodness for you over on ShuffleThis.com. IthacaMafia Mixtapes, vol. 9 & 10 are ready for your listening enjoyment.

So, listen.

And, enjoy.

Beautiful Bria., originally uploaded by Kluv32.

"I remember the days sittin' on the front porch, with the sun beatin' down in my neighborhood. I'd sit out all night singin' songs to the moon. Or, try and get some sweet honey back to my bedroom...

...So to all those old friends, God be with them. I wish, I wish I could see you again -- in the same corner bar where it all started from. Dig your plow so deep; now the stars have all gone.

So, wherever they shine may it be warm and bright."

-- G. Love, "When We Meet Again."

Vomit-mouth., originally uploaded by Kluv32.

Well kids, the trend continues. Today The Cat adds another notch to his lives. And, I figure, what better way to celebrate than to take a look back at one of his finest hours? So, go ahead and enjoy a peep at Bob's Drunken New Year of 2002.

It's a truly revealing moment.

He's nothing, if not, a looker. Happy Birthday, Brob.

CBGB's., originally uploaded by Kluv32.

I hope you all have a safe and non-serial-killing-undead-monster-filled Friday the 13th.

Especially those of you who are venturing up into the wilds of the north.

I hear there are things in the woods.

Scary things.

(And yes, I wish I were up there to see the scary things, too.) Boo.

Dance Party #5, originally uploaded by Kluv32.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we've hit a landmark. The man you see above is no longer a spry youth in his twenties -- oh no, he is not. He has graduated into the "Third Age", as Elves might call it... but for us, it's just "our Thirties". He's taking it all in stride, however, refusing to change his daily routine (save for the addition of some prune juice to his diet), god bless him. Maybe this year he'll actually get hair on his chest.

So take a good look, kids -- Frants is another year older. And, as he pointed out, it's sort of an arbitrary benchmark, "only in the way that we assign more meaning to decades and numbers ending in zero." I consider it a benchmark in other ways, however, because just over eleven years ago, most of us met for the first time in upstate New York. And, almost eleven years ago exactly -- Frants put together a little improv troupe where a couple of us got to find out how funny we were. (*Ahem, "Rubber Bone" - 1st Place in the Ithaca College Improv Comedy Competition.) And since then, we've had some grand adventures (most of which have been arranged by Frants The Travel Agent).

So I say, Happy Birthday, sweet Brants. Here's to 30 more years of fun fun, fun in the sun.