I have no blisters on my feet, only severely funky tan lines. There are things living in my belly button I have not talked to since 1987. There. I'm like a tree, baby...all branched out!
Seriously though...I'm going to try to make this place a little more interesting to the average, anonymous reader. Unfortunately, the most interesting and consuming thing in my life I can't even blog about right now. That is really lame, because that is what this process/thingamajiggy is kinda about. Those that REALLY are in the loop know that I could write books on some events I'm dealing with, and I just might some day.
All in good time #2. Good things come to those who wait.
(and some who use Match.com!)
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
It's all I got
Sick of the fishing posts yet? Well, that's about all I have to post about lately, because there is so much of it going on. This coming Labor Day weekend, I am already booked two of the days for fishing. One day prefishing for the aggravating tournament on Long Lake on September 10th, and another half day trouting with John.
The weekend of the 9th I have the Long tournament on Sunday, but another one on Saturday at a different lake. That means another overnighter in Northern Wisconsin...and all the beer that we know accompanies that! We do those two every year, and it always proves to be one of the "roughest" weekends of the year on my ageing liver. Both Joddi and I have been refreshed by our win though, so we are taking these remaining contests with renewed dedication. Might have to lay off the UV Blue and lemonades a little bit to continue the winning streak.
There is not many more pure forms of torture than standing in a boat in the hot sun, for eight hours...hung over to beat hell.
The weekend of the 9th I have the Long tournament on Sunday, but another one on Saturday at a different lake. That means another overnighter in Northern Wisconsin...and all the beer that we know accompanies that! We do those two every year, and it always proves to be one of the "roughest" weekends of the year on my ageing liver. Both Joddi and I have been refreshed by our win though, so we are taking these remaining contests with renewed dedication. Might have to lay off the UV Blue and lemonades a little bit to continue the winning streak.
There is not many more pure forms of torture than standing in a boat in the hot sun, for eight hours...hung over to beat hell.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Oh, and BTW
The "Big Texan" never got a sniff all weekend, just as I predicted.
But at least I can say "I got 'em" if the need ever arises, and that is important to a tackle junkie like me.
But at least I can say "I got 'em" if the need ever arises, and that is important to a tackle junkie like me.
Lady Luck
Here's the tourney scoop. It will be a long post, but bear with me as I try to make it interesting.
This was a two day contest with a limited bracket system; you had to qualify on Saturday to fish for the big money Sunday. Those that do not qualify to go for the $5500, fished for their own purse as a "consolation bracket" on Sunday. It breaks down like this:
Day 1
75 boats fishing to secure a spot in the top 25 boats fishing on Sunday. Saturday's weights are zeroed for Sunday...fresh start for everyone.
Day 2
25 boats competing for $5500 top prize, and the bracket pays down 11 places. The remaining 50 boats fishing for $1000 top prize, but paying down only 4 spots . Also, the top 25 get an extra half hour and the bottom bracket gets shorted some time (this will play huge into the story).
In the interest of brevity...we SUCKED on Saturday. Our gameplan was the same as anyone who had a brain; fish some different stuff, and save your best spots for the big show on Sunday. Do just enough to qualify without burning spots up to do it. Well, a huge cold front blew through about 9:30 AM Saturday and absolutely shut the fish down. By 11 AM, we had only on fish in the livewell, and had fished two of our reserve spots to get it. Knowing how the prefishing had been, I estimated it would take 4 fish to make the cut, but the front had shut down the fish on our deep spots completely. But instead of changing gears and moving shallower...we died over the deep spots hoping to pull just three more fish.
It never happend. We weighed in just one fish and took up residence at boat #47 for the second day, smack dab in the middle of the consolation bracket. (Side note: Just how tough it really was is demonstrated by us finishing in the middle...with only one fish. I think there was nearly 20 zeros the first day!)
That night, all the talk was about the leaders catching them shallow. Our friends who made the cut gave us advice to move in. "Burning the bank" is the term, and we were told to do it early because everyone else was going to do the same thing. The deep bite was dead across the whole lake we learned, and I did not have any evidence to the contrary. So Sunday morning we took off at 7 AM and did just that...for nearly four hours...without a legal fish. In desperation, we moved at 11:15 to one of our best deep spots, which is a main lake dropoff from 5 to 16 feet with weeds on it and a fish crib nearby. Joddi caught a legal fish on the second cast, but that was it. We had not even gotten a bite there on Saturday. We then had a pow-wow where both of us quit fishing, sat down and regrouped. I told Joddi I thought the deep fish were recovering, that almost the entire field was now fishing dick shallow, and if we wanted to pull a rabbit out of the hat, we better get outta the box and get smarter...and do it fast. He suggested we go try a deep spot we had not fished in a couple of months. It's kind of a goofy spot in that there is not much there, but it is similar to the spot that just produced a legal, and more importantly, it's over looked.
As we pulled up, I shed the lifejacket and grabbed a rod in the same motion. I was casting before Joddi was even out of his seat. As he fiddled around, I got a strike and set the hook into something heavy. "Net!" I said, "this is a good one". Seconds later, a #4.20 largemouth was safely in the well. As Joddi unhooked a tangled rod from the net, I cast out and immediately was hit again. "Net!" I called. Joddi moved as fast a big man can to get that fish in the boat as well, a #3.15 bass. This happend five more times on five consecutive casts, but only two of the five were legals. Joddi never got a cast off during this. Unbelievable. We now had 5 fish, and our fortunes had completely changed in a little under 7 minutes, but then the frenzy died. We had caught the tail end of a major feeding spree, and that was very lucky, but it was not the end of our luck that day.
We fished the spot hard for the rest of the day. After all, we had until 2:30, the fish were there, and we had little else going. At about 5 minutes till 2PM, we noticed boats running down the lake towards the weigh-in location. I did not think anything about the first 6 or 7, but then more and more came by. "What time is our weigh in?" I say. "2:30...isn't it? Yeh, I'm sure the tournament director said we had 7.5 hours instead of 8 hours" he says. "I heard that too" I confirmed. Another minute goes by and I am thinking to myself "if 1st flight weighs at 3PM, and we weigh at 2:30, what time does 3rd flight weigh? 3 o'clock is the end of the contest, that would mean 3rd flight would have to weigh at 2PM to avoid over lapping. Okay, those are 3rd flight guys heading in" I say to myself and to Joddi out loud. Another minute goes by. Joddi says "Eric, that would mean that 3rd flight was shorted more time than us. They only get 7 hours? I never heard anything about that." "Yeh, I am thinking the same thing. You want to go in?" I half heartedly say. "Up to you" he says. Thinking it better safe than sorry, I made the call to head in. With increasing panic, we feverishly stowed the flyables, fired up, and screamed full throttle to the dock. As we approached, I see 2nd flight guys already weighing fish. I asked a passerby "what flight is weighing" and he replied it was flight #2. Holy shit! We crossed the line with my watch reading less than 30 seconds to spare...and we were being watched and timed until we were in bounds.
Not only that, but a minute before we were actually TEETERING on the edge of even coming in! Evidently, we were not alone in the confusion. Our friends, along with 3 other boats from 2nd flight, were disqualified when they showed up at 2:30. Despite protests by them, and denials by the director he had ever said we had 7.5 hours (he did..I heard him), they stuck by the published rule. It said 2 PM. They were out. End of story.
Longer story shorter, we won the consolation bracket and cashed a check for $1000. The second place team was four pounds behind us, and the DQs would not have made a difference either. Had we qualified for the top 25 and weighed in the same bag on Sunday, we would have placed 4th in that bracket...good for $1000. So it really did not matter. We were destined to win $1000 in this tournament. What matters is how much luck it took us to do it. Lucky we chose that spot and not another, lucky we decided to head in, lucky we were within sight of the boats to even see THEM headed in, and lucky we made the run with 30 seconds to spare.
I bought a lottery ticket on the way home, but my luck ran out then and there.
This was a two day contest with a limited bracket system; you had to qualify on Saturday to fish for the big money Sunday. Those that do not qualify to go for the $5500, fished for their own purse as a "consolation bracket" on Sunday. It breaks down like this:
Day 1
75 boats fishing to secure a spot in the top 25 boats fishing on Sunday. Saturday's weights are zeroed for Sunday...fresh start for everyone.
Day 2
25 boats competing for $5500 top prize, and the bracket pays down 11 places. The remaining 50 boats fishing for $1000 top prize, but paying down only 4 spots . Also, the top 25 get an extra half hour and the bottom bracket gets shorted some time (this will play huge into the story).
In the interest of brevity...we SUCKED on Saturday. Our gameplan was the same as anyone who had a brain; fish some different stuff, and save your best spots for the big show on Sunday. Do just enough to qualify without burning spots up to do it. Well, a huge cold front blew through about 9:30 AM Saturday and absolutely shut the fish down. By 11 AM, we had only on fish in the livewell, and had fished two of our reserve spots to get it. Knowing how the prefishing had been, I estimated it would take 4 fish to make the cut, but the front had shut down the fish on our deep spots completely. But instead of changing gears and moving shallower...we died over the deep spots hoping to pull just three more fish.
It never happend. We weighed in just one fish and took up residence at boat #47 for the second day, smack dab in the middle of the consolation bracket. (Side note: Just how tough it really was is demonstrated by us finishing in the middle...with only one fish. I think there was nearly 20 zeros the first day!)
That night, all the talk was about the leaders catching them shallow. Our friends who made the cut gave us advice to move in. "Burning the bank" is the term, and we were told to do it early because everyone else was going to do the same thing. The deep bite was dead across the whole lake we learned, and I did not have any evidence to the contrary. So Sunday morning we took off at 7 AM and did just that...for nearly four hours...without a legal fish. In desperation, we moved at 11:15 to one of our best deep spots, which is a main lake dropoff from 5 to 16 feet with weeds on it and a fish crib nearby. Joddi caught a legal fish on the second cast, but that was it. We had not even gotten a bite there on Saturday. We then had a pow-wow where both of us quit fishing, sat down and regrouped. I told Joddi I thought the deep fish were recovering, that almost the entire field was now fishing dick shallow, and if we wanted to pull a rabbit out of the hat, we better get outta the box and get smarter...and do it fast. He suggested we go try a deep spot we had not fished in a couple of months. It's kind of a goofy spot in that there is not much there, but it is similar to the spot that just produced a legal, and more importantly, it's over looked.
As we pulled up, I shed the lifejacket and grabbed a rod in the same motion. I was casting before Joddi was even out of his seat. As he fiddled around, I got a strike and set the hook into something heavy. "Net!" I said, "this is a good one". Seconds later, a #4.20 largemouth was safely in the well. As Joddi unhooked a tangled rod from the net, I cast out and immediately was hit again. "Net!" I called. Joddi moved as fast a big man can to get that fish in the boat as well, a #3.15 bass. This happend five more times on five consecutive casts, but only two of the five were legals. Joddi never got a cast off during this. Unbelievable. We now had 5 fish, and our fortunes had completely changed in a little under 7 minutes, but then the frenzy died. We had caught the tail end of a major feeding spree, and that was very lucky, but it was not the end of our luck that day.
We fished the spot hard for the rest of the day. After all, we had until 2:30, the fish were there, and we had little else going. At about 5 minutes till 2PM, we noticed boats running down the lake towards the weigh-in location. I did not think anything about the first 6 or 7, but then more and more came by. "What time is our weigh in?" I say. "2:30...isn't it? Yeh, I'm sure the tournament director said we had 7.5 hours instead of 8 hours" he says. "I heard that too" I confirmed. Another minute goes by and I am thinking to myself "if 1st flight weighs at 3PM, and we weigh at 2:30, what time does 3rd flight weigh? 3 o'clock is the end of the contest, that would mean 3rd flight would have to weigh at 2PM to avoid over lapping. Okay, those are 3rd flight guys heading in" I say to myself and to Joddi out loud. Another minute goes by. Joddi says "Eric, that would mean that 3rd flight was shorted more time than us. They only get 7 hours? I never heard anything about that." "Yeh, I am thinking the same thing. You want to go in?" I half heartedly say. "Up to you" he says. Thinking it better safe than sorry, I made the call to head in. With increasing panic, we feverishly stowed the flyables, fired up, and screamed full throttle to the dock. As we approached, I see 2nd flight guys already weighing fish. I asked a passerby "what flight is weighing" and he replied it was flight #2. Holy shit! We crossed the line with my watch reading less than 30 seconds to spare...and we were being watched and timed until we were in bounds.
Not only that, but a minute before we were actually TEETERING on the edge of even coming in! Evidently, we were not alone in the confusion. Our friends, along with 3 other boats from 2nd flight, were disqualified when they showed up at 2:30. Despite protests by them, and denials by the director he had ever said we had 7.5 hours (he did..I heard him), they stuck by the published rule. It said 2 PM. They were out. End of story.
Longer story shorter, we won the consolation bracket and cashed a check for $1000. The second place team was four pounds behind us, and the DQs would not have made a difference either. Had we qualified for the top 25 and weighed in the same bag on Sunday, we would have placed 4th in that bracket...good for $1000. So it really did not matter. We were destined to win $1000 in this tournament. What matters is how much luck it took us to do it. Lucky we chose that spot and not another, lucky we decided to head in, lucky we were within sight of the boats to even see THEM headed in, and lucky we made the run with 30 seconds to spare.
I bought a lottery ticket on the way home, but my luck ran out then and there.
Friday, August 25, 2006
The biggie
Important day today...so important I am leaving work to ensure the perfect implementation of it.
It's the "pre-tournament preparation day", and that involves more ritual than a voo-doo ceremony. First, I have to meticulously wash and clean the boat so that I don't have to worry about what it looks like alongside all the OTHER meticulously cleaned boats. Then I will begin respooling all my rods with fresh line, laying out and packing clothes, and getting food and ice together. Next, I will sort and place all of my "go to" baits for this tournament within easy access under my boat drivers seat, and do the same for Joddi's baits (the dread "big texan") under his. When all is done, I will gather all my maps of this lake and focus on them while running through our game plan step by step. I try to visualize the entire 8 hours, including backups and contingency planning.
The pre-tournament day ends when Joddi arrives to pick me up the morning of the tournamnt. If there isn't a half coffee - half double mocha cappacino waiting in the truck, it was all for nothing.
Oh and BTW, if I have an accident and dribble that drink down my front while sipping it, at least statistically, we will place better in the tournament. Thats a numbers fact...even if it is completely weird.
It's the "pre-tournament preparation day", and that involves more ritual than a voo-doo ceremony. First, I have to meticulously wash and clean the boat so that I don't have to worry about what it looks like alongside all the OTHER meticulously cleaned boats. Then I will begin respooling all my rods with fresh line, laying out and packing clothes, and getting food and ice together. Next, I will sort and place all of my "go to" baits for this tournament within easy access under my boat drivers seat, and do the same for Joddi's baits (the dread "big texan") under his. When all is done, I will gather all my maps of this lake and focus on them while running through our game plan step by step. I try to visualize the entire 8 hours, including backups and contingency planning.
The pre-tournament day ends when Joddi arrives to pick me up the morning of the tournamnt. If there isn't a half coffee - half double mocha cappacino waiting in the truck, it was all for nothing.
Oh and BTW, if I have an accident and dribble that drink down my front while sipping it, at least statistically, we will place better in the tournament. Thats a numbers fact...even if it is completely weird.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
So Long Match.com
Happenings at the Robville...er I mean the Donnaville. Yes it is true, my favorite spinsterish blogger has a beau. Donna is unofficially in Lurve with Rob, and so is her dog Bo. Congratulations Donna X from all of us here at the Pyle! Hope you don't end up like the woman in the previous post.
By the way...is that roll of film, or is Rob happy to see you?
By the way...is that roll of film, or is Rob happy to see you?
OMFG!
I just read a blog written by a NYC wife who was cheated on by her husband of 7 years...with her best friend. It's called "That Girl Emily", and I am not going to post a link, but if you have ever wondered what a woman scorned really looks like, search it out on Technorati or something. The shit she does in retalilation will give you the shivers, it's just plain mean. Really mean. If it is all true (I think it is..there are photos), this guy is screwed. Some things she did to him:
1. Paid for a billboard out of their joint checking account that exposed his cheating ways, complete with her name. It was erected within sight of his office...and it was HUGE! (photos)
2. Passed out flyers on the streets near his office with his name and picture on it that said "Lost Dog" and detailed his exploits with her friend. (photos)
3. Boxed up his "secret" porn collection and sent it with a picture of him naked and bound to the bedpost (from early in their marriage)...and sent it to his parents with a note that he needed somewhere to store these during the divorce.
4. GAVE AWAY his extensive and VERY expensive wine collection to construction workers in downtown NYC.
5. Traded all his players on his fantasy baseball team away (it was his favorite hobby), and re-drafted his entire team from injured reserve players.
6. Sent an email to ALL of the persons in his work email contact list saying "FYI, I have gonorrhea. Just thought you would like to know".
7. Bought EVERY one of his female coworkers a dozen roses that came with a note "I would like to get to know you better"
8. Dumped his plasma TV and golf clubs, favorite Mets jersey and such ON THE STREET in NYC, along with the bed sheets from their bed he screwed his mistress on. This action was caught on camera and eventually posted to YouTube. You can watch it!
9. Spray painted "I hope she was worth it" down the side of his new BMW 530i.
10. Bought countless subscriptions to magazines in his name with a "bill me later", forwarded his mail to a retirement home, reported his credit cards stolen, cancelled his car insurance, reported his car stolen. Too many others to list.
Can you say Psycho? I'm not condoning his behavior...cheating is the worst form of marital torture, but she goes BERSERK on this guys life, to the extent of breaking laws. In the end, you end up feeling bad for him, not her, which I don't think was the intention of the blog.
1. Paid for a billboard out of their joint checking account that exposed his cheating ways, complete with her name. It was erected within sight of his office...and it was HUGE! (photos)
2. Passed out flyers on the streets near his office with his name and picture on it that said "Lost Dog" and detailed his exploits with her friend. (photos)
3. Boxed up his "secret" porn collection and sent it with a picture of him naked and bound to the bedpost (from early in their marriage)...and sent it to his parents with a note that he needed somewhere to store these during the divorce.
4. GAVE AWAY his extensive and VERY expensive wine collection to construction workers in downtown NYC.
5. Traded all his players on his fantasy baseball team away (it was his favorite hobby), and re-drafted his entire team from injured reserve players.
6. Sent an email to ALL of the persons in his work email contact list saying "FYI, I have gonorrhea. Just thought you would like to know".
7. Bought EVERY one of his female coworkers a dozen roses that came with a note "I would like to get to know you better"
8. Dumped his plasma TV and golf clubs, favorite Mets jersey and such ON THE STREET in NYC, along with the bed sheets from their bed he screwed his mistress on. This action was caught on camera and eventually posted to YouTube. You can watch it!
9. Spray painted "I hope she was worth it" down the side of his new BMW 530i.
10. Bought countless subscriptions to magazines in his name with a "bill me later", forwarded his mail to a retirement home, reported his credit cards stolen, cancelled his car insurance, reported his car stolen. Too many others to list.
Can you say Psycho? I'm not condoning his behavior...cheating is the worst form of marital torture, but she goes BERSERK on this guys life, to the extent of breaking laws. In the end, you end up feeling bad for him, not her, which I don't think was the intention of the blog.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
The Big Texan
My Fed Ex two day priority package just arrived which contains the bait, in the color that will supposedly win us this weekend's tournament. This is according to Joddi, who got the info from someone whose spots were as barren as the Gobi desert. I don't know why I buy (literally) into this crap. I know this guy is a color freak, and I put little credence in that generally. I think I am grasping at straws, but Joddi fawns over crap like this as if it was the second coming.
So now we have 5 bags of "Big Texan" colored Zoom plastics. I love and use thier baits all the time, but I did not have any in "Big Texan"...so we were sunk according to encyclopedia clueless. So to boost his confidence, I ordered $57 worth so we wont feel left out. I guarantee it will be of no importance in our eventual win, except to make Joddi feel better for having them along.
So now we have 5 bags of "Big Texan" colored Zoom plastics. I love and use thier baits all the time, but I did not have any in "Big Texan"...so we were sunk according to encyclopedia clueless. So to boost his confidence, I ordered $57 worth so we wont feel left out. I guarantee it will be of no importance in our eventual win, except to make Joddi feel better for having them along.
If only....
Macy's electronic training collar (shock collar) says on it: "not for office use".
Damn!
This thing would come in very handy at work.
Damn!
This thing would come in very handy at work.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
So much for that source
4 hours of prefishing on "his" spots yielded only 1 fish. I should have known better coming from this guy. What a waste of time and gas money. Joddi is convinced that I made some kind of mistake; that I was somehow misreading the map. He wants to still incorporate these spots into our tournament plan in some way. Fat chance dude!
Jefe and I had fun Saturday playing the new "Advanced Warfighter" on the Xbox 360. We were still laughing out loud at 2 am when we could not survive for more than two minutes. Eventually we progressed to Halo 2 (as always) and took our frustration out on some Covenant and an occasional Marine. For those of you familiar with the game, on the scarab level when you first start out there is a marine who leads you up the steps to the bridge where you jump on the scarab?... He didn't make it very often. We laughed like kids as we cut this guy down over and over. Macabre, I know.
I probably won't post much this week, things are insane at work. Not that anyone even cares, because there aint' a hell of a lot of folks reading this. Looking at my drivel, it is no wonder why.
Jefe and I had fun Saturday playing the new "Advanced Warfighter" on the Xbox 360. We were still laughing out loud at 2 am when we could not survive for more than two minutes. Eventually we progressed to Halo 2 (as always) and took our frustration out on some Covenant and an occasional Marine. For those of you familiar with the game, on the scarab level when you first start out there is a marine who leads you up the steps to the bridge where you jump on the scarab?... He didn't make it very often. We laughed like kids as we cut this guy down over and over. Macabre, I know.
I probably won't post much this week, things are insane at work. Not that anyone even cares, because there aint' a hell of a lot of folks reading this. Looking at my drivel, it is no wonder why.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Stress
Man I have a lot on my plate. Not only am I in a fervent rush to finish Hank before the weekend, now I have a wheel seal leaking on the boat trailer as well that will have to be fixed prior to Saturday. Geesh. I have the parts though, because I just fricken did one last weekend.
Not only that, but a new "source" has told my partner Joddi that he will mark a topographical map with some new spots for our tournament next weekend. If that happens, I will have to fish sometime on Sunday to check them out. It's the only day I can before the tournament, and I really was not planning on it. Jefe is coming Saturday afternoon to get busy with some X box 360, and I am planning on breaking the big boy out of the freezer to prepare it on Saturday night. I need to find a suitable recipe for a trout this large, and buy some groceries.
There are so many other things going on that I won't blog about, that the cumulative effect is overwhelming. I'm a basketcase right now, and will be for the foreseeable future.
Not only that, but a new "source" has told my partner Joddi that he will mark a topographical map with some new spots for our tournament next weekend. If that happens, I will have to fish sometime on Sunday to check them out. It's the only day I can before the tournament, and I really was not planning on it. Jefe is coming Saturday afternoon to get busy with some X box 360, and I am planning on breaking the big boy out of the freezer to prepare it on Saturday night. I need to find a suitable recipe for a trout this large, and buy some groceries.
There are so many other things going on that I won't blog about, that the cumulative effect is overwhelming. I'm a basketcase right now, and will be for the foreseeable future.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Not Idle Threats
Macy is a little shit. She just does not want any love from me, and will routinely bite me when I try to show her some. With her AKC papers laying on the counter, I am contemplating registering her full AKC name as "I am the demon of hell fire".
She will not listen to me, and takes perverted canine pleasure in seeing me at my wits end. Not only that, but everytime I throw her a line like "You're cute, but you are a real bitch", my wife hits the roof. "Don't say that out loud" she yells. Just yesterday I whispered in Macy's ear "I'm shopping for a little brown girl. She won't be as cute as you, but a hell of a lot nicer" in an attempt to create some anxiety or guilt that would make her step back and reconsider her disdain for me. It only strengthened her resolve...and resulted in two more puncture wounds on my arm and a brutal dry humping attack. Did I mention how cute she is?
I don't know how to handle this little pisser. I've never owned a pet that showed so little disregard for my attention. Even my cool old dude cat Scotch is more friendly to me than the black plague Macy is, and he is a CAT for Christ sakes!
She will not listen to me, and takes perverted canine pleasure in seeing me at my wits end. Not only that, but everytime I throw her a line like "You're cute, but you are a real bitch", my wife hits the roof. "Don't say that out loud" she yells. Just yesterday I whispered in Macy's ear "I'm shopping for a little brown girl. She won't be as cute as you, but a hell of a lot nicer" in an attempt to create some anxiety or guilt that would make her step back and reconsider her disdain for me. It only strengthened her resolve...and resulted in two more puncture wounds on my arm and a brutal dry humping attack. Did I mention how cute she is?
I don't know how to handle this little pisser. I've never owned a pet that showed so little disregard for my attention. Even my cool old dude cat Scotch is more friendly to me than the black plague Macy is, and he is a CAT for Christ sakes!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Slaughter
I have completely decimated the hornet nest. The pointy little terrorists were obliterated by my air campaign of streaming bombs of Raid Wasp & Hornet killer. Yesterday, sympathetic hornet press photographers were busy staging the dead carcasses for photo ops, while others busied themselves photoshopping pictures to show larger clouds of insecticide. Reuters has evidently bought up the pictures.
The backyard council of insects sent me demands for a cease fire, which was then promptly violated by additional stings to me. I called in the reserve force of three cans of raid, and mounted an all out ground campaign to rid the backyard of these terrorists once and for all. Neighboring bees of all kinds heard the call to Insectihad, and were crushed by superior firepower as they found martyrdom at my feet. It was an orgy of killing. Thousands lay dead or dying as the council sat in it's uselessness; completely impotent to my power.
I posses the insect equivalent of a nuclear bomb, and yesterday was V.I. (Victory Insect) Day. The great war is finally over, and the backyard is once again safe for Democracy... and my dog.
The backyard council of insects sent me demands for a cease fire, which was then promptly violated by additional stings to me. I called in the reserve force of three cans of raid, and mounted an all out ground campaign to rid the backyard of these terrorists once and for all. Neighboring bees of all kinds heard the call to Insectihad, and were crushed by superior firepower as they found martyrdom at my feet. It was an orgy of killing. Thousands lay dead or dying as the council sat in it's uselessness; completely impotent to my power.
I posses the insect equivalent of a nuclear bomb, and yesterday was V.I. (Victory Insect) Day. The great war is finally over, and the backyard is once again safe for Democracy... and my dog.
Mostly Pink Floyd
Last night I caught a concert on PBS (of course it was pledge week) of the Australian Pink Floyd. What a show! I saw Pink Floyd live at Camp Randall stadium in Madison, and that show was the best concert I ever saw, and I have seen plenty. The Australian cover band was every bit as good. The show itself was in some respects even better because they played a lot of old tunes like "Welcome to the Machine" and "Shine on you crazy diamond". It was extremely impressive and entertaining. If you are a Floyd fan and you ever get the chance to see these guys...take it...without hesitation.
They will be in Minneapolis this fall, on of all dates, November 25th. RIGHT DURING DEER HUNTING SEASON! Of course they would come to town when I will be living like a hermit for 8 days; tucked away in the northwoods at our hunting shack. I might have to come back to civilization for this though. Maybe I could coordinate it with a beer run?
They will be in Minneapolis this fall, on of all dates, November 25th. RIGHT DURING DEER HUNTING SEASON! Of course they would come to town when I will be living like a hermit for 8 days; tucked away in the northwoods at our hunting shack. I might have to come back to civilization for this though. Maybe I could coordinate it with a beer run?
Monday, August 14, 2006
Nourishment
If you have not gotten your political protein today, head over to the Politics page for some fresh meat.
If you're a Vegan, I've got some fresh Tofu for your sorry ass here.
Bon Appetit!
If you're a Vegan, I've got some fresh Tofu for your sorry ass here.
Bon Appetit!
Regarding the post below
About a week ago, I found a dead Possum in my back yard. I've never seen one up close...and man...those are some ugly M F'ers! After I buried it, I got to wondering just what the heck had happened. Having Possums around is not unusual, but seeing a dead one anywhere besides splattered on the road is.
We had gotten a severe rainfall the previous night, and the critter carcass was located in the dry creekbed in my back yard. Maybe it drowned in the runoff from the rain? The "dry" creek was anything but after the downpour, having filled immediately to "swollen" status. Possibly it was hit on the nearby road and made it this far before dying? Worst case, it died of rabies, and that was what worried me.
Now I wonder if it wandered into the bees nest. A slow-moving Possum would certainly be overwhelmed by the number of bees in that thing, and could have been stung hundreds..thousands of times in the plod to get away. Get enough stings, and your heart and breathing get affected. It would not surprise me at all that this is what happened to this thing. I don't know if bees can kill a small animal, but I would not dismiss it.
We had gotten a severe rainfall the previous night, and the critter carcass was located in the dry creekbed in my back yard. Maybe it drowned in the runoff from the rain? The "dry" creek was anything but after the downpour, having filled immediately to "swollen" status. Possibly it was hit on the nearby road and made it this far before dying? Worst case, it died of rabies, and that was what worried me.
Now I wonder if it wandered into the bees nest. A slow-moving Possum would certainly be overwhelmed by the number of bees in that thing, and could have been stung hundreds..thousands of times in the plod to get away. Get enough stings, and your heart and breathing get affected. It would not surprise me at all that this is what happened to this thing. I don't know if bees can kill a small animal, but I would not dismiss it.
Killer Bees
Macy and Jodi got into a nest of ground hornets Saturday afternoon while mowing the lawn. It's impossible to know how many times Macy got stung, but my guess is well over 50. Jodi, seeing Macy staggering around literally covered with hornets, ran to the lake calling Macy's name to get her to follow, and the two of them jumped into the lake to ease the attack. I think Jodi got stung 6-7 times on the way to the lake, and she was running full bore. Prior to that, Macy was just standing there frozen...getting stung all the while. Back in the house, Macy staggered around and then collapsed. A frantic call to the Vet prescribed close monitoring and liberal doses of Benedryl. If there was any sign of breathing duress, she was to be taken in immediately. We also administered some of Dayton's old Prednisone which we kept on hand for her severe bee sting allergy.
Then the swelling started.
Oh my God! I did not think she could swell that big and not split her skin. Her face was HUGE! Her eyes and nose swelled shut, and her lips looked like thick cut porterhouse steaks hanging from her swollen face. It was awful...really awful. By 6PM, the swelling had subsided from grotesque to merely amusing, but her body stings were still a source of pain. The Benedryl kept her comfortable, and she slept like Rip Van Winkle, but she in no way wanted to be touched.
Sunday I was charged with finding the source of the nest, which I did. While I was stung in my offensive against it, it was nothing compared to what the poor little whelp had gone through. Those stings I got HURT...and Macy got at least 50 times what I did. She must have been in agony. She's making a full recovery though. How do I know? Well, on Sunday she bit me repeatedly, dry humped me while watching TV on two separate occasions, mauled the cat, ate my toothbrush, and pissed in the house.
That's the Macy I know. We're glad to have her back.
Then the swelling started.
Oh my God! I did not think she could swell that big and not split her skin. Her face was HUGE! Her eyes and nose swelled shut, and her lips looked like thick cut porterhouse steaks hanging from her swollen face. It was awful...really awful. By 6PM, the swelling had subsided from grotesque to merely amusing, but her body stings were still a source of pain. The Benedryl kept her comfortable, and she slept like Rip Van Winkle, but she in no way wanted to be touched.
Sunday I was charged with finding the source of the nest, which I did. While I was stung in my offensive against it, it was nothing compared to what the poor little whelp had gone through. Those stings I got HURT...and Macy got at least 50 times what I did. She must have been in agony. She's making a full recovery though. How do I know? Well, on Sunday she bit me repeatedly, dry humped me while watching TV on two separate occasions, mauled the cat, ate my toothbrush, and pissed in the house.
That's the Macy I know. We're glad to have her back.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Earl
I've heard through the grapevine that Tom & Jenny's sole remaining rooster "Earl" has met his demise. Earl was a cool dude, part of a group of roosters running the hobby farm housing Tom & Jenny. One by one, for various reasons, the roosters dwindled until there was just Earl. Earl was so lost by the demise of his buds, he took to the family Labrador Reggie as his purpose in life, and would spend his time pursuing geriatric Reggie around the yard. When Reggie yielded...Earl perched on him.
If you don't think it's funny to watch a rooster sitting on a Lab...you've never seen it. I have, and it was hilarious.
Turns out Earl was becoming a little too vocal with his requests. He took to perching on the Weber grill just outside the main window and crowing. Crowing in search of his lost flock of chickens (they are in the freezer Earl), crowing to find Reggie, crowing at the sunrise, the noonday sun and sunset. Crowing at every minute in between.
Apparently Jenny was feeling ill the other day, and much needed rest is hard to come by with 4 kids. Finally a chance was spotted to get some...and then Earl chimed in. Goodbye sleep. Goodbye restorative rest. Goodbye sanity.
Earl said hello to the shotgun. Goodbye Earl.
If you don't think it's funny to watch a rooster sitting on a Lab...you've never seen it. I have, and it was hilarious.
Turns out Earl was becoming a little too vocal with his requests. He took to perching on the Weber grill just outside the main window and crowing. Crowing in search of his lost flock of chickens (they are in the freezer Earl), crowing to find Reggie, crowing at the sunrise, the noonday sun and sunset. Crowing at every minute in between.
Apparently Jenny was feeling ill the other day, and much needed rest is hard to come by with 4 kids. Finally a chance was spotted to get some...and then Earl chimed in. Goodbye sleep. Goodbye restorative rest. Goodbye sanity.
Earl said hello to the shotgun. Goodbye Earl.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
When is enough...enough?
You are probably hating the gas prices just as much as I am, but have you done anything about it? I haven't, and it is a curious thing. I drive as much, to as many places, for as many stupid reasons as I ever did. I'm locked into a lease so I can't trade the Tahoe for some resemblence of fuel economy, and my wife and I work different schedules so carpooling is out of the question. I can't change jobs for a shorter commute. I can't move closer to my work. I can't move the grocery store next to my house. And most telling of all, no matter how hard I look, I can't find ANY trace of public transportation out here in the sticks.
But lately I find myself asking why. Why is it that I will drive 30-40 miles looking for good trout streams to fish? Why will I hook up my boat and drag it 200 miles round trip (at substantially reduced MPG I might add) to fish a lake...for fun? Why will I run to the grocery store to find an ingredient to make a specific dish to have a special dinner? Why will I drive 35 miles to find the right shotgun shell for sporting clays, when the local Wal-Mart has some that will do? Why will I endure the increased cost to maintain my lifestyle?
Why? Because gasoline equals pleasure in nearly all of America outside major metropolitan areas. Here in the Midwest, things are...seperated. My lifestyle is not a train ride across town, but miles and miles away, around, and inbetween. Things in life that are my pleasure are scattered across vast distances if they are to be pursued. Hell, the only thing within walking distance of my house are trees and cows, and I am done using cows for pleasure! Doing the things that make us happy offsets the pressure, the monotony, and the reality of everyday working life. Put a price on that...it's more than $3.00 per gallon, and still less than Psychotherapy. I think the majority of middle class Midwesterners think the same way. Not saying it's right...just that it is. Some things will suffer in the onslaught of increased energy prices, but I'll be damned if it will be my soothing mobility.
At least not yet.
But lately I find myself asking why. Why is it that I will drive 30-40 miles looking for good trout streams to fish? Why will I hook up my boat and drag it 200 miles round trip (at substantially reduced MPG I might add) to fish a lake...for fun? Why will I run to the grocery store to find an ingredient to make a specific dish to have a special dinner? Why will I drive 35 miles to find the right shotgun shell for sporting clays, when the local Wal-Mart has some that will do? Why will I endure the increased cost to maintain my lifestyle?
Why? Because gasoline equals pleasure in nearly all of America outside major metropolitan areas. Here in the Midwest, things are...seperated. My lifestyle is not a train ride across town, but miles and miles away, around, and inbetween. Things in life that are my pleasure are scattered across vast distances if they are to be pursued. Hell, the only thing within walking distance of my house are trees and cows, and I am done using cows for pleasure! Doing the things that make us happy offsets the pressure, the monotony, and the reality of everyday working life. Put a price on that...it's more than $3.00 per gallon, and still less than Psychotherapy. I think the majority of middle class Midwesterners think the same way. Not saying it's right...just that it is. Some things will suffer in the onslaught of increased energy prices, but I'll be damned if it will be my soothing mobility.
At least not yet.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Clear the air
Ok folks, I've got to clean something up. I recently received an email from a reader taking me to task over my former "Words to describe me" listing of "apolitical". Why the Gomer's Politics page then? True, it would seem a little confusing, so let me clarify.
I originally meant the "apolitical" to mean "one who does not practice politics". Kind of like "asexual" when referring to reproduction (or marriage, they are interchangeable).
I stand by my original view. I don't practice politics, I don't subscribe to choosing a party, and I wouldn't conform if I had to. What I am is opinionated. All opinions are NOT politics, but all politics ARE opinions.
According to Wayne Campbell, it was either Kierkegaard or Dick Van Patton who said "if you label me, you negate me". I refuse to be labeled, even with a middle-of-the-road term like "moderate". I have equal repugnance for all politicians, contempt for the political system, and scorn for the devotees. The unfortunate reality is that the vast majority of the population identifies their own opinions, however misguided it may be, with a political party. You see me spout...you label me. It's all good, but you might often be incorrect in your attachment to the right.
So, I have placed my opinions on a page and relabeled it "politics". What really should happen is that the reader should view the opinion, filter through their own political beliefs, and take away what they want. Call my views Neocon, right wing, or just plain old conservative...I could care less. The debate over the content is what is important. Don't sell your own opinion short by attaching Party affiliations.
I originally meant the "apolitical" to mean "one who does not practice politics". Kind of like "asexual" when referring to reproduction (or marriage, they are interchangeable).
I stand by my original view. I don't practice politics, I don't subscribe to choosing a party, and I wouldn't conform if I had to. What I am is opinionated. All opinions are NOT politics, but all politics ARE opinions.
According to Wayne Campbell, it was either Kierkegaard or Dick Van Patton who said "if you label me, you negate me". I refuse to be labeled, even with a middle-of-the-road term like "moderate". I have equal repugnance for all politicians, contempt for the political system, and scorn for the devotees. The unfortunate reality is that the vast majority of the population identifies their own opinions, however misguided it may be, with a political party. You see me spout...you label me. It's all good, but you might often be incorrect in your attachment to the right.
So, I have placed my opinions on a page and relabeled it "politics". What really should happen is that the reader should view the opinion, filter through their own political beliefs, and take away what they want. Call my views Neocon, right wing, or just plain old conservative...I could care less. The debate over the content is what is important. Don't sell your own opinion short by attaching Party affiliations.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Evolution
I have evolved from an insignificant microbe to a multicellular microorganism in the TTLB ecosystem. Hooray!
Now that I have more than one cell, maybe I can drink coffee from a gas station cup without spilling.
Now that I have more than one cell, maybe I can drink coffee from a gas station cup without spilling.
So long class of 86!
Jodi's reunion came and went without incident, at least incidents that I am aware of. (Geesh! I can't even help myself with my inner monologue!) Any way, I really don't know what the big deal is...she was fine, I was fine, and we'll all live happily ever after. So I have one or two things to improve on before I am "perfect". Big deal. A busted down Chevy is better than a new Ford any day of the week.
Sunday the Assman (Joddi the fishing partner for those of you just tuning in) and I went to Long lake for a scouting trip. Same old same old. You wanna be transported to another world? Pick yourself up an underwater viewing system like Aqua-Vu and start playing with it. It is so incredible to drag that thing around and see the underwater world when you have been looking at the barrier of the surface for decades. As been our history, we got so wrapped up in camera work that not much fishing was done. It's funny because you can fish a piece of structure for an hour without a fish, look at each other and say "they're not here", then drop the camera and see dozens of fish. Maddening.
We caught 5 or 6 the whole day, learned very little in the way of new info, and left frustrated and lost. We are now deeply into the process of questioning our skills as competitive anglers. It's very self-defeating.
Sunday the Assman (Joddi the fishing partner for those of you just tuning in) and I went to Long lake for a scouting trip. Same old same old. You wanna be transported to another world? Pick yourself up an underwater viewing system like Aqua-Vu and start playing with it. It is so incredible to drag that thing around and see the underwater world when you have been looking at the barrier of the surface for decades. As been our history, we got so wrapped up in camera work that not much fishing was done. It's funny because you can fish a piece of structure for an hour without a fish, look at each other and say "they're not here", then drop the camera and see dozens of fish. Maddening.
We caught 5 or 6 the whole day, learned very little in the way of new info, and left frustrated and lost. We are now deeply into the process of questioning our skills as competitive anglers. It's very self-defeating.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Letting go of the past
This weekend is my wife's High School reunion, and I gotta say I'm a little defensive. No, I am not going, and Jodi is alright with that although she clearly would prefer that I attend. I have numerous reasons for not going, and she is very understanding about it.
I'm a tad nervous because I used to fear competition from some of her guy friends when we dated in High School. She was a real catch, and like a dog with a good bone, I was overly protective at the time. I saw her male friends as rivals because she was close to them, and teenage boys often have trouble separating physical attraction from friendship. It all seems so stupid now. I trust her implicitly in any situation involving other men...never even think about it...except these other men. Start the hate mail now, I know...I'm a bad man. It's a holdover I can't shake from my teenage years that is completely irrational, but as I said, it's holding over and I can't shake it.
Maybe it is because some of her old guy buddies are still around, still single, and still "cruising" the bars. Guys like that are opportunistic feeders, and a drunken reunion may just be the ticket to rekindle some deepseated attraction that alcohol could help play out.
Maybe it is because she used to get harassing prank phone calls during our early marriage from a stalker that I KNOW is a former member of the High School clique, but whose identity is still unknown (believe me, If I knew who this was, they would still be taking nourishment by straw, and I would probably be in jail). But someone, possibly someone attending this reunion, at one time could think of nothing else but her. Freaky.
Believe me I know...I should be going with her. But doing that would just reopen all the anxieties I have worked hard to put in the past. She is more than capable of handling herself (can you say Kick boxing instructor?), so I don't fear in that respect. It's more like I am ashamed to admit that I won't trust her for a weekend. It only happens once every 5 years, so I should be able to get through it again.
I'm a tad nervous because I used to fear competition from some of her guy friends when we dated in High School. She was a real catch, and like a dog with a good bone, I was overly protective at the time. I saw her male friends as rivals because she was close to them, and teenage boys often have trouble separating physical attraction from friendship. It all seems so stupid now. I trust her implicitly in any situation involving other men...never even think about it...except these other men. Start the hate mail now, I know...I'm a bad man. It's a holdover I can't shake from my teenage years that is completely irrational, but as I said, it's holding over and I can't shake it.
Maybe it is because some of her old guy buddies are still around, still single, and still "cruising" the bars. Guys like that are opportunistic feeders, and a drunken reunion may just be the ticket to rekindle some deepseated attraction that alcohol could help play out.
Maybe it is because she used to get harassing prank phone calls during our early marriage from a stalker that I KNOW is a former member of the High School clique, but whose identity is still unknown (believe me, If I knew who this was, they would still be taking nourishment by straw, and I would probably be in jail). But someone, possibly someone attending this reunion, at one time could think of nothing else but her. Freaky.
Believe me I know...I should be going with her. But doing that would just reopen all the anxieties I have worked hard to put in the past. She is more than capable of handling herself (can you say Kick boxing instructor?), so I don't fear in that respect. It's more like I am ashamed to admit that I won't trust her for a weekend. It only happens once every 5 years, so I should be able to get through it again.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Raw data
I'm going to have to pay Jefe' a visit soon because I got a craving I can't shake...
Sushi. I love it. I crave it.
But can you imagine how hard it is to find in a Midwestern town of 14,000 peeps, most of which have probably never tasted it? It's even harder than getting a foreign car serviced. Going to Minneapolis to see Jefe' is like a food orgy for me. He doesn't make Sushi, but we will find it!
I am always up for the raw stuff. Mackerel, tuna, eels...you name it. Hit me with the wasabi and the pickled ginger, then watch out! I'm on a mission, and until that wasabi tingles my nasal passages, I won't be satisfied.
Sushi. I love it. I crave it.
But can you imagine how hard it is to find in a Midwestern town of 14,000 peeps, most of which have probably never tasted it? It's even harder than getting a foreign car serviced. Going to Minneapolis to see Jefe' is like a food orgy for me. He doesn't make Sushi, but we will find it!
I am always up for the raw stuff. Mackerel, tuna, eels...you name it. Hit me with the wasabi and the pickled ginger, then watch out! I'm on a mission, and until that wasabi tingles my nasal passages, I won't be satisfied.
I just can't stop
I'm still bent over the toilet of the Web, spewing more about the Israeli action on the political Pyle. I think it was the fish.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
The dementia of competition
Big time tournament coming up here. This lake is somewhat of an enigma for us...we are capable of winning it, but always place at the bottom of the top ten.
Long Lake means smallmouth bass if you want to win. BIG smallmouth, and a limit of them, is what will be required for a check. Two or three years ago the winning bag in this tournament was 8 fish for 29# or so. THAT IS HUGE! Over a three pound average will win you just about any tourney in the Country. You need a 2.5# average here just to place.
It also means fishing deep, like 25' down on breaks and rock piles...not our forte' as "power fishermen" who like to cover ground fast and shallow. We try to adapt as best we can, and like I said, usually finish 9th our so; but we can win this thing and it drives us nuts. In preparation, I have been doing some things different during practice sessions:
-I have spent two weeks of evenings fishing in my "little" boat on my home lake using only one rod and one technique...drop shotting in 25' of water. You can't fall back on "favorites" when they are not in the boat. It forces me to become proficient with a technique that will win this thing.
-Hours and hours of idling the boat studying the locator and using the Aqua-Vu to check out promising structure on the lake. We've almost given up on the camera thing as being too frustrating, but in this situation, it is just the tool for the job of locating used structure.
-Worked on adjusting my mental state from one of "getting a limit" to one of "winning the tournament". There is a huge difference in the approaches to fishing under these mindsets, and I am almost always using the former. Taking chances under the latter is what is required to win this thing, but it requires an overhaul in the brain.
Pre-fishing so far has been dissapointing. Either we are locating fish that will win, but can't catch them...or catching the crap out of fish that won't help a bit.
Somewhere in the balance lies the key. We have 34 days and 4 pre-fishing trips to figure it out.
Long Lake means smallmouth bass if you want to win. BIG smallmouth, and a limit of them, is what will be required for a check. Two or three years ago the winning bag in this tournament was 8 fish for 29# or so. THAT IS HUGE! Over a three pound average will win you just about any tourney in the Country. You need a 2.5# average here just to place.
It also means fishing deep, like 25' down on breaks and rock piles...not our forte' as "power fishermen" who like to cover ground fast and shallow. We try to adapt as best we can, and like I said, usually finish 9th our so; but we can win this thing and it drives us nuts. In preparation, I have been doing some things different during practice sessions:
-I have spent two weeks of evenings fishing in my "little" boat on my home lake using only one rod and one technique...drop shotting in 25' of water. You can't fall back on "favorites" when they are not in the boat. It forces me to become proficient with a technique that will win this thing.
-Hours and hours of idling the boat studying the locator and using the Aqua-Vu to check out promising structure on the lake. We've almost given up on the camera thing as being too frustrating, but in this situation, it is just the tool for the job of locating used structure.
-Worked on adjusting my mental state from one of "getting a limit" to one of "winning the tournament". There is a huge difference in the approaches to fishing under these mindsets, and I am almost always using the former. Taking chances under the latter is what is required to win this thing, but it requires an overhaul in the brain.
Pre-fishing so far has been dissapointing. Either we are locating fish that will win, but can't catch them...or catching the crap out of fish that won't help a bit.
Somewhere in the balance lies the key. We have 34 days and 4 pre-fishing trips to figure it out.
Who'll Stop the Rain?
Finally we have some rain! Beautiful buckets of liquid doused us all through the night, leaving over 3 inches of accumulated relief. My guess is that it is too little-too late for the crops; most corn leaves here are rolled up tighter than a pencil, and the beans are not fairing too well either.
A couple of days ago, a fisherman friend of mine was recalling trying to plant a food plot on his hunting land for the deer to use. He could not even get the disc into the ground to work the soil...it was like concrete!
The rain we got last night is a proverbial drop in the bucket compared to what we have lacked. Hopefully it's not the last of it.
A couple of days ago, a fisherman friend of mine was recalling trying to plant a food plot on his hunting land for the deer to use. He could not even get the disc into the ground to work the soil...it was like concrete!
The rain we got last night is a proverbial drop in the bucket compared to what we have lacked. Hopefully it's not the last of it.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Game Over...or Game On?
Well, now that we have purveyed the smut for our deviant readers, it's time to move on to other things, like MY deviant tastes.
Yeah right...like you all should be so lucky!
Time to chill out on the Political Pyle with a new post here. It's sure to take care of any swelling you may have experienced from the last two entries and comments.
Yeah right...like you all should be so lucky!
Time to chill out on the Political Pyle with a new post here. It's sure to take care of any swelling you may have experienced from the last two entries and comments.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
