Where There Is Smoke

It feels a little like the Fall of the Roman Empire, doesn't it? Nero fiddles while Rome burns? Maybe it's just September, but here in Provincetown, everyone loves a party. The biped appeared out of the dark last night in a dune truck and we motored out to the dunes for a moonlight drive. Here I am relieving myself in the dunes last night.



The moon was a piece of silver and it lit up the surf curling onto the beach like electric lights. It was a beautiful ride, except for my arch-nemesis, Gus. He's a jug, a jack russell-golden retriever mix. I'm sorry, I mean jack russell-pug mix. His bidep says he's going to get another jug so he can walk around asking people if they want to take a look at his jugs.



And as if that wasn't enough, the biped ran off to something called a Fag Bash. It sounds like it's against the law to me. And it looks like it, too. Here are some pics. I will refrain from naming names at this point.




And then there was a little house party where I guess you had to wear a wig to get in. Looks like the end of the world to me!




This is Thirsty Burlington. She's famous.




I had my own dance party at home, here's a little clip of it.