October 20, 2004

buck fever

Have you ever shot a live animal stone-cold dead? I have, many a time, and I never felt any guilt or hesitation about it. I saw the target in my sights, I squeezed the trigger and I was delighted when I laid that rascal low.

Some people can't do that.

We call it "buck fever" down South, when a good shot misses an easy target because he gets all tangled up in THINKING about the animal instead of shooting. I've seen it occur many a time. I don't know why that shit happens, but it does.

I've never shot at a human being. I've confined my killing to pelt-wearing, fuzzy-tailed critters, birds, or slimy reptiles that sometimes threatened ME first. But I really don't think I would hesitate to put a round or two through a person, if I was bound and determined to do it. I hope that I never find myself in that situation, but I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't flinch.

I've never had buck fever in my life.

strange

I went to the IGA grocery store today and bought some fingernail polish remover. I didn't do it because I'm ashamed of my bright red fingernails. I kinda like 'em. But that polish is getting chipped and raggedy-looking now, and I have a choice--- either repaint my nails or take the polish off. Painting my nails all by myself would be no fun at all, so I opted for door #2.

The woman at the cash register in the store didn't give me a second look. I asked her, "How many times do guys with red fingernails come in here and buy polish remover? Is this like... something you see every day?"

She was a black woman, very attractive, and probably in her early 30s. She said, "Honey, I didn't notice your fingernails. I just ring up the purchase and give the right change. I remember very few customers I see every day."

I think that's sad.

I was determined that she was gonna remember ME, so I asked her what she thought of my red nails. "Looks like you fell asleep too early after drinking," she replied. "Them wimmen ganged up on you, didn't they?"

When I told her that I was awake and I CONSENTED to the paint job, she simply shook her head. "You're one of those CRAZY white boys, aren't you?"

I confirmed that I was, then I gathered up my purchase. As I was leaving, she said, "Your nails look GREAT! If you have another party like that one, invite ME. I'll do your toes."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that someone already beat her to that punch.

true confessions

I have decided that I am one crazy mo-fo. The body doesn't work the way it once did, and a lot of that fact has to do with the crazy, mo-fo shit I did in my younger days. But there's very little of my past that I would swap for something else. I've enjoyed my life. I squeezed the juice out of it.

*I've made music with some famous people.

*I've been to bed with more wimmen than most men have.

*I've seen my writing published.

* I've been flat-assed broke.

* I've had a lot of money.

* I've owned more than I ever thought I would.

* I lost it all and I didn't die.

* I have known True Love. I also have known True Heartbreak.

* I trust very few people in this world, but the ones I DO trust, I trust deeply. I have never swallowed a more bitter pill than to have one of those people I trusted betray me.

* I like the mountains better than I do the beach.

* I don't want to live forever.

* I like guns. I once was an excellent marksman, but I'm not as good now as I once was. My eyesight has declined and I don't have the steady hands I once did. I can still shoot, but not like I could 25 years ago. Where did THAT boy go?

* I'm not done yet.

excitement

I became very excited today when I was attacked by the vengeful mockingbirds. I really thought those fuckers were setting me up to go for my eyes. I wasn't certain that I could escape. The old adrenalin pump kicked into high gear.

Even in that height of madness, I remember thinking--- "What if you can't get away? You can't call 911 and tell the Effingham County EMS that a bunch of BIRDS beat your ass and put your eyes out. They'll laugh their asses off at you. So will the birds."

By the hair of my teeth, I made it safely back inside and the mockingbirds seem to have simmered down now. I stuck my head out the back door a few minutes ago and I wasn't attacked immediately, so maybe I'm being forgiven.

But I gotta say one thing. Becoming very excited surely does make you feel alive for a few glorious moments, doesn't it? You feel a tingle in your body and all kinds of primitive instincts come bubbling up from the primordial swamp to give you the "fight or flight" impulse your simian ancestors had. You can FEEL it, and it feels GOOD.

Now I know for sure why people toss themselves out of perfectly good airplanes, ride roller-coasters, bunji-jump, haul-ass on motorcycles and like horror movies. Civilized life is pretty boring most of the time. I believe that human beings crave thrills, if they have any imagination at all. I know that I do.

And I had a good one this morning.

spooky stuff

I really wish that I understood what this guy is talking about. I don't understand; therefore, he frightened me.

I'll bet you that John Kerry has a "plan" to fix this kind of crap.

how stupid are we?

The person who taught me most of what I know about steam generation and boiler operation was a water-treatment consultant. He started out working for TVA when he was eighteen years old, fired a lot of pulverized coal boilers, ran turbine generators and then became fascinated with water treatement. He ended up being a regional sales manager for a LARGE and well-known water-treatment corporation.

He quit his job and started his own company. He knew his shit and he was damn good at what he did. I didn't want anyone else handling MY water treatment for the boilers. He never let me down when I needed knowledge in a hurry, and he bailed me out of some serious fuck-ups with the softeners and demineralizers. I came to consider him my friend.

He was the first person ever to explain the "scare 'em, then save 'em" theory of salesmanship to me. You go into a place, tell them that there's a monster loose and you're the only person who can slay it. If you pitch the call right, it'll be like telling little kids a scary bedtime story.

That's how you sell ANYTHING, from water-treatment, to insurance--- and yes, a President.

Look at the rabbits Kerry is pulling out of his hat now. Bush is gonna cut Social Security. Bush is gonna take away your health care. Bush is gonna reinstate the draft. Vote for ME, and that horrible, booger-man stuff won't happen. I'll SAVE YOU!!! It's all pure bullshit, but it's EXACTLY the way the "scare 'em, then save 'em" plan goes.

Do we really have enough people in this country gullible enough to believe this crap? Do we not recognize a con-man when we see one?

I don't know anymore. Costa Rica is looking better and better to me.

i hate this

I was watching the news this morning when I heard a loud "THUMP" against my French window back door, followed by the pitiful chirping of a wounded bird. I KNEW what had happened, but I went to check anyway.

Sure enough. A young mockingbird thought that it could fly right into my kitchen and never realized that a window was in the way. It hammered itself against the glass and died on my patio amid a plethera of lost feathers. I went to get my shovel to bury the poor, dead thing and suddenly found myself in the middle of an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

I was ATTACKED by at least FOUR mockingbirds, who seemed to hold ME responsible for the young bird's death. They screeched. They hollered. In mockingbird language, they cussed my Cracker ass out. Then, they swooped down and pecked the shit out of me.

While one would occupy my attention from the front, another one would fly in from behind and snatch out a hank of hair from my head. If I turned to face THAT one, another one came in from behind and did the same thing. Bejus! I was outnumbered and they were too fast. I had to retreat back into the house.

I've had that family of mockers living in the woods behind my house since I moved into the Crackerbox. I know where the nest is and I've always left them alone. I like those aggressive, take-no-prisoners birds. They remind me of ME.

I thought I had a deal with the Big Daddy. He never liked hearing me play guitar on my back porch, but he seemed satisfied by landing on my phone line and trying to out-sing me. My music appeared to piss him off royally, but he didn't get a cherry there. I kinda liked pissing the old boy off.

And I didn't kill his young'un this morning. Honest. That bird augered into my window and killed itself. The young, dumb shit should have known better. But how to you explain that fact to a grieving, vengeful flock of mockingbirds?

I'm afraid to go outside now.

you had to look at it the right way

I stole this picture and the ones below from the supine one, Dax Montana. Gravity was a force to be reckoned with for several of us last weekend.

a second victim

jim fell into the clutches of kelley and got himself a paint-job, too. That's me whispering encouragement in his ear.

Hah! He LISTENED to me, too!!!

how it started

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was whispering, "Please don't hurt me."

the end result

I'd let that woman do anything she wanted to with me.

October 19, 2004

what I want right now

#1-- A bottle of fingernail polish remover would be handy.

#2-- A good back-rub. I'd like that a lot.

#3-- Some Chinese food. Ho-ho! I'm having that delivered to my house. Never mind. I'm going to get this one.

#4-- Somebody to play guitar with. I broke out the twelve-string today and I really wish I had taken it to the Blogfest. That guitar would have added something to all those six-strings.

#5-- My son. I sure do miss that boy. What my ex-wife is doing to me just ain't right.

#6-- A reason to believe. Any reason about anything.

#7-- I'd like to talk to my father tonight. I have a lot on my mind and he was a wise man.

#8-- I wish that there was a football game on television tonight. I love football.

#9-- I wish I still had a good dog. I'd like to pet it right now. I love dogs.

#10-- A second chance. I want to call a "mulligan" on life and tee up another ball with no penalty strokes.

I get this way sometimes in the evenings.

yeah. that's me

I was attacked by Amazon wimmen who tied me to the bed, raped me mercilessly, over and over again, and then painted my fingernails and toenails red. Honest. That's what happened.

I wouldn't LIE to you about something like that.

the chatahoochie river

That water is cold!

bullshit!

I don't believe this crap. Any jackasses who elect Ted Kennedy and John Kerry over and over again can't be very smart.

My aching ass. I think a bunch of fucking yankees put that "survey" together.

don't offend anybody!

We have morphed into such a scare-wary nation that people can't make jokes anymore. Not even fucking COMEDY WRITERS!!!

I've got news for people who use the law to sue for their own neurotic phobias. THE SUN DOESN'T RISE AND SET IN YOUR ASS!!! Get over your delusions and accept the fact that you may be offended from time to time, because you aren't sealed in bubble-wrap and the world doesn't always go the way you want it to go. That's called "LIFE."

Buncha whining pussies.

That's what happens when Congress brain-farts ANY legislation that mentions "Fairness," "Equal" or "Children" in the title. It won't be fair, it won't be equal and it won't have a damn thing to do with children. What WILL happen is that the lowest, pea-brained, dip-shit, unable-to-cope, fucked-up people in the country will make THEIR STANDARD of behavior YOUR STANDARD of behavior.

If you don't believe me, just look at what the Americans With Disabilities Act, sexual harassment law, the EEOC, hate-crime law, the EPA, the Endangered Species Act (you know the species that's REALLY endangered? Free Americans.), "Civil Rights" that apply only to one group of people and a list of other such bullshit has done to America. That crap didn't make us a better nation. The laws enriched lawyers, and catered to the lowest common denominator among us.

If our goal as a nation is to make everybody immune from "hurt," we're barking up the wrong tree. Life ain't fair and no law will ever make it that way. If we're out to raise a generation of whining wimps, totally dependent on government, we're on the right track.

Why would government want to do that? If you don't know, I'd be wasting my time trying to explain.

Personally, I think a good dose of hurt is good for you, from time to time. It makes you stronger.

getting all worked up

I woke up with TWO ear-worms this morning. I had "Billy, Don't Be A Hero" and "Reason To Believe" BOTH running around my brain. Bejus! I didn't know which song to sing in the shower this morning, so I tried to run them both off by singing show tunes.

Yeah. I laid "Oklahoma" on them and I followed with "They Call the Wind Mariah." That plan didn't work. As soon as I got out of the shower, the ear-worms attacked again. If "Billy, Don't Be a Hero" isn't one of the most suck-ass songs ever written... well, I don't know a suck-ass song when I hear it.

I can understand having "Reason to Believe" stuck in my head. I believed that I would be in court today, until my lawyer called about the postponement. That was great news, because I really didn't want to go. I'm tired of being fucked by a system that operates like a got-dam meat-grinder. I am the meat, too.

"If I listen long enough to you
I'll find a way to believe that it's all true
Knowing--- that you lied, straight-faced
While I cried
Still, I look to find a reason to believe"

I once loved my ex-wife more than I loved anyone else in the world. Hell-- I didn't just LOVE her, I WORSHIPPED her. I thought she was everything I wanted in a partner, a lover and a friend. I was mistaken.

I learned to recognize enemies a long time ago, and I know how to dodge or defend against their attacks. I see them coming and I take counter-measures, or I launch counter-attacks. That stuff was easy to do.

But I've never known ANY pain so awful, so exquisite and so DEEP than being betrayed by someone I trusted. "Et tu, Brute?" I know full and well what that line means now. I've lived it.

"Someone like YOU
Makes it hard to live
With anyone else
Someone like YOU
Makes it easy to give
Never thinking of myself"

I am happy that I don't have to go to court today. I don't know how I managed to fall in love with the wrong woman, but I did. I don't understand why she treated me the way she did, but she did. That crap is all blood under the bridge now. I went there, I did that, and I am paying the price for my mistakes.

And... Bejus help me... a part of me still loves her today.

"If I gave you time to change my mind
I'd find a way to leave the past behind
Knowing--- that you lied, straight-faced
While I cried---
Still, I look to find a reason to believe"

That one is NOT a good worm for my ear.

incest

Blogger incest is one of the topics we discussed before we all went apeshit late at night at Blogtoberfest. If you blog for a while (I'm coming up on my THIRD Birthday in December), you find a select few people that you read every day. You link to them and they link to you.

You read other blogs, too, but it's just not the same. I believe that I KNOW the ones in my incestuous family, whether I've met them or not. I LIKE those blogs, whether they have high traffic or not. Those are the folks that I am certain I could share a couple of beers with and enjoy lively conversation with no fist-fights afterward.

Do YOU have your own blog-network? If not, GET ONE!!!

he liked it

I enjoyed meeting jim and his bodyguard.

Welcome to a Southern party, bro.

damn! that's the way I feel

My only complaint with my blogfather's site is that he seldom says what he really thinks. I was surprised by this post.

2. I do, in fact, support the reelection of George W. Bush, for reasons that should be clear to long-term readers. While I'm not overjoyed with Bush (I'd prefer Lieberman/Cheney, or Cheney/Lieberman), I think that electing John F. Kerry at this juncture would be like electing the ugly bastard child of Jimmy Carter and Millard Fillmore -- in 1940. (I could be wrong, of course, and if Kerry should happen to be elected, I fervently hope to be proven so. But that's how it seems to me. I mean, Jesus, just look at the guy.)

3. If this bothers you, please sod off and go read Atrios or Kos.

That concludes this disclaimer.

I truly believe that John Kerry is the last person in the world we want running our country right now. That dickhead has been nothing but a self-aggrandizing, social-climber all his life and he's never done diddly-squat as a Senator for 20 years. If that Lurch-looking prick has any balls, Te-REH-sa has them locked in a vault along with her billions, and she doesn't let John play with them unless SHE says so.

I'm NOT a big fan of George Bush. But I see this election as a choice between the lesser of two evils and John Kerry loses hands-down when I use that "litmus test." Kerry doesn't have the starch to fight a war (yeah, yeah, yeah... he manufactured a lot of medals in Vietnam while Bush stayed home. BFD. Kerry is not a Tall Dog and he'll lick Koffi Anons' ass when push comes to shove.)

Give me a cowboy over a New England wimp anytime.

I don't WANT to make "friends" with our enemies. I want them dead before they kill any more of US.

Kerry doesn't see the world the way I do. He grew up pampered and rich. I scrapped for everything I have. I also know that bad guys will lie to you, and you're a fucking fool to believe those lies. You don't hold a Summit Conference with a liar. He'll simply lie to you some more.

If Kerry thinks the United Nations is where we need to go for a "global test" for what we NEED to do, he's out of his freaking mind. The UN is a corrupt, anti-American organization. Period. The UN WANTS US TO FAIL. Kerry can stick his "global test" right up his rich ass. If I were President, I wouldn't give a lovely fuck about what the UN said about ANYTHING I did.

If the President pisses the UN off, what are they gonna do? Pack their bags and go back to their Third World homelands in protest? I don't think so. They LIKE all the comforts and perks they get in the USA. You couldn't drag those envious bastards out of here with a back-hoe.

I don't trust John Kerry. He doesn't think about America the way I do. He doesn't know how to handle being Tall Dog. Bush, for all his shortcomings, KNOWS what being Tall Dog is about, especially in time of war.

Given the choice between those two, mine is simple.

lies! all lies!!!

You can believe this shit if you want to, but that ain't the way I saw it, and I saw all of it TWICE for most of the weekend.

Or I saw double. I don't remember....

All I know is that Geoffrey and Gordon DID stay up late at night--- after sleeping until 5:00 in the afternoon and crawling out of bed about the time everybody else was roaring drunk and had been partying since 9:00 that morning.

I STILL submit that they are a bunch of pussies.

October 18, 2004

wisdom

Somebody laid this quote on me the other day and I've been thinking about it ever since. "All a poor person has is his word. If he loses THAT, he ain't worth nothin'."

Think about it. What is YOUR word worth to YOU? Even better, what is your word worth to OTHER people?

Honesty is NOT the best policy. I've learned that fact by paying for mistakes I made by being honest. You've got a whole bunch of crooks out there who PREY on honest people. Fuck. Just look at the U.S. Congress. Those soul-less asswipes are everywhere, and you'd better watch out for them.

Still, I keep my word.

That's important to me. I pay my bets when I lose and I do what I say I'm going to do. If I shake your hand and say, "It's a deal," we've got a deal. I don't need a lawyer to hand me a stack of paperwork for signatures and notorization if YOUR word is as good as mine.

I know a lot of people who are just like me in that regard. I also know many others who would steal the gold out of a dead man's dentures and lie their asses off about doing it, even if caught red-handed. YOU know people on both sides of that equation.

Wisdom is being able to tell the difference.

dancing

I've mentioned many times before that I dance like a fucktard. It's the truth. I've played all kinds of music most of my life and I KNOW that I have a sense of rhythm and tempo.

But I still dance like a fucktard.

I watched a line-dancing group perform when I was in Helen (all the yankees except Jim were still asleep-- Jim saw them, too) and that appeared to be a load of fun to me. The couples were good enough and made dancing look like such a hoot that several little kids got bugs in their feet and started dancing in front of the stage. The kids were better than I am. I loved watching that show, especially from the kids.

Maybe dancing is a natural human instinct. If so, I don't have it.

I dance like a fucktard.

blogtoberfest

If you want to know what it was REALLY like, just read this post. Cat worried about coming at first, because he said, "I don't know any of those people and I haven't been blogging very long. I'm big, loud and obnoxious."

I assured him that he would make friends and fit right in. He took me at my word and I don't believe that he was disappointed. Big, loud and obnoxious is NO PROBLEM at a blogfest. In fact, those qualities are assets.

Besides--- EVERYBODY there was loud and obnoxious.

a reprieve?

I don't know whether I have a reprieve or if I'm simply postponing the inevitable. My lawyer called me today (finally!) and asked me to get in touch with the HR people in Oklahoma City to see if my retirement settlement would be on a W-2 form or a 1099 form. I called. Lo and Behold! It's a 1099! Somehow, my money just went from income to retirement in one fell swoop.

Jennifer can't touch that.

She can still nail my ass over the double-dip PAY I received last year, and getting that stupid "domestic violence" order lifted may be difficult, but this is the first light in the tunnel that I've seen in a while. Plus, I don't have to go to court tomorrow. I have another continuance.

Hell... maybe I can put that shit off until I die.

official jawja blogger

This man paid his dues and earned his stripes. He is an official Jawja Blogger, no matter where he lives. I like his style.

Besides, he didn't steal somebody else's beer, talk shit at 4:30 in the morning and then sleep until 5:00 the next day the way some yankees did. Jim can hang with Southerners.

I annoint you, sir, and the rest of the Southern crew agrees.

i don't understand it

Tomorrow is the Big Day in court, where my bloodless cunt of an ex-wife will eviscerate me the way the British priests did Mel Gibson in Braveheart. I don't know why she wants to do this to me. I really don't.

I was good to that woman. I paid her out of debt and helped her get to the position she has at work today. I never raised my hand to her. I've never raised my hand to ANY woman. We seldom argued about anything. I loved her and I trusted her.

Speaking of Braveheart, do you remember the scene when William Wallace fought the knight on horseback, took him down and tore off his mask to discover that it was Robert the Bruce trying to kill him? Mel Gibson did a good job of showing how all the starch can run out of somebody all at once in the face of that kind of betrayal.

I KNOW that feeling.

Why Jennifer wants to drag me into court AGAIN is beyond my understanding. Why she wants to rape and pillage what little I have left of my life is beyond my comprehension. I would never do that to ANYBODY, let alone someone I lived with for ten years and the person who fathered my son.

It's not about money, because she has plenty of that. It's about scorched-earth VENGENCE, plain and simple. I will be a victim of her petty wrath tomorrow because I am a man and she is a woman, and the judge will side with her.

I am the bad guy, even though I never fucked around during our marriage (she did), I didn't run off with someone else when my spouse was diagnosed with cancer (she did), and I've never used my son as a weapon against her (she has against me).

None of that shit matters. I'll lose big tomorrow.

gifts

I have a tee-shirt and a new mousepad, both souvenirs from Blogtoberfest. I also have a very nice leather holster for the Ruger Blackhawk .357 magnum that I don't own. If I actually owned that gun, it would look damn good hanging on my hip from that holster.

Maybe I'll buy that pistol one of these days. In the meantime, I'll just enjoy my tee-shirt and my mousepad.

it wasn't wasted

We utilized everything in the care package. I had my fingernails and toenails painted red, we smoked the cigars (DON'T YOU LIGHT THOSE STINKING THINGS IN MY ROOM, " quoth Georgia) and we dumped that moonshine home-made wine in the river. Or maybe it didn't go into the river. I don't fully recall, but my head felt quite funky the next morning.

Yeah. I remember now. We poured that stuff in the river and then drank the river.

I'll have to modify my blogroll sometime today, because I met a few bloggers that I never knew in person before. We had a good time. How we didn't get tossed out of the hotel and into jail remains a mystery to me. We weren't quiet. We raised hell. We got lubricated.

And if anybody there got laid, it wasn't me. Musta been the red fingernails.

pickin' and grinnin'

I had the chance to play guitars with this guy for the first time, and for a Grouchy Old Cripple, he ain't half-bad. He sings well, too. He's got a really good four-finger picking style that I like a lot.

this guy likes a lot of the same old folk and early rock-n-roll music that I do. We hit it off well and sang some good harmony. (At least it sounded good to US. We were well-lubricated at the time.)

I believe that Blogtoberfest was a roaring success because we didn't leave a single dead body behind. Most of us were HALF-DEAD when we departed, but we weren't zombies.

Let's do it again next year.

blogfest sex

I'm not sure who was wearing this outfit. I believe it was this guy. After all, he IS the one who brought the bullwhip.

I see red

I'm not sure how it happened, but it must have seemed like a good idea at the time. I have my fingernails and toenails painted red now. I'm pretty sure that Georgia painted my fingers and this sweet thang painted my toes. I dunno. A lot of fog was hanging in the air that night.

Wimmen will take advantage of you. Just ask this guy, who also ended up with red toenails that night. He came by my room to say goodbye yesterday and said that he almost shit himself in the shower when he looked down and saw red toenails on HIS OWN FEET.

He didn't remember volunteering for the paint-job. That's what good moonshine HOME MADE WINE will do to you.

I kinda like my red fingernails. My toenails look pretty, too. Maybe I'll wear them to court tomorrow.

a day that will live in infamy

Catfish and I stayed in a Day's Inn just five minutes from the Atlanta Airport Thursday night. His back was hurting, so he took some of his pain-pills and went to sleep. I walked across the parking lot to a small Irish pub I saw when we checked in.

That's where I met a bartender nicknamed "Short-Stack." She's about 4' 9" tall with a rack that... well, let's just say she was hung heavy in the front. She knew how to pour a draft Guiness, too. (Her real name was "Mary Jane," and we had some fun with that, too.)

I staggered back to the room shortly after dark and slept like a rock. Catfish says that I snore. I don't believe him.

We arrived at Hartsfield Airport at 11:05 the next day. We were supposed to pick up mama montezz at 11:49. We were in good shape. Right where we were supposed to be and right on time.

The only problem is--- Mama ain't on that 11:49 plane. At first, we thought she might be lost in the airport, so we had her paged by both her real name and her blog name and we never received a reply. We looked around for her. We waited for the next flight. No Mama.

Shortly after 2:00, we decided that she shined us and we left for Helen, only to get caught in one of those horrendous Atlanta traffic jams that proved once again to me why there ain't enough money in the world to pay me to live there. Bejus! Driving there is like Big Ten Football. Three yards and a cloud of dust.

Fuck that place.

We made it to Helen at around 6:00 that evening and saw a bunch of bloggers sitting on the second floor balcony of the hotel Kristy. As soon as we pulled up in the parking lot, they started yelling, "You've got to go back to Atlanta. Mama Montezz is stuck there at the airport."

I looked at Cat and he looked at me. Without a word, we mind-melded the idea that we weren't driving back to Atlanta even if Mama had a $1,000,000 bounty on her head. We'd already had enough of that Atlanta shit. No way were we going back there.

Luckily for Mama, bloggers are creative, intelligent and devious people. We managed to shag her ass the way a good outfielder snags a pop-foul right at the edge of the stands. We caught her and reeled her in. I hope she appreciates all the effort that went into that plan, which we executed perfectly.

After that episode was a night of drinking, guitar-playing and bullshitting. I learned one thing about yankees. They talk big when they're drunk, but they can't run with Tall Dogs the next day. Bunch of fucking pussies. They sleep until 2:00 in the afternoon every day.

How the hell did people like THAT win the Civil War?

whatta hoot

Catfish and I arrived at the Crackerbox shortly after 4:30 yesterday afternoon. I wanted to blog about the festivities, but I spent three hours de-spamming my site instead.

While I was away, the rats did play.

October 14, 2004

off to the rodeo

My friend Catfish and I are headed to Atlanta today. We'll spend the night there and pick up Mamma Montezz at the airport tomorrow. Then, the three of us reprobates are off to Helen, Georgia, for Blogtoberfest.

Pick up the babies and hide the old ladies.