We just finished watching the Grammys. We remain confounded. Why was Tubbs rapping? Who was that overstuffed lady on stage with him? Why does the keyboard payer from Bon Jovi continue with that ringlet look? How can this chicken fried song have national traction? Who inflated the Followill cousin? Why has MJ career slide cont'd, even in death? What was that Green Day American Tragedy? Explain the Black Eyed Peas. Fire the art director. R&B needs major help. Who is Drake?
On the flip side, would be nice to be Jeff Bridges. Or Mos Def.
Check out the chickens, these were just hanging in the street, Texas style.
That's Mr. Okie Noodling, amping his Cousey, Crockett HS gym.
Jane, in another of her personally selected outfits, doing a Nepalese dish load.
Dinner with the Liam family unit, Jane announced Liam was "faking it" after crying over his pie. Kids.
Not faking it, just being needy. Post Skype with the gparents.
Mom's roast bird and green market haul.
Wellies, getting some more use.
And the Beaver fabricated BroBee dress, a playground hit. Parents- don't let your kids Yo Gabba Gabba.
Demo-ing new skillz.
CONGRATULATIONS TO THE VIRGINIA CAVALIERS.
Finally, Nolan Ryan is pitching the Kay Bailey Hutchinson campaign, with some miserable build better fences crap. That said, can you really ever bust on him after this:
I'm playing ball again, at Crockett High School gym. They are the Cougars, and their facilities are about equivalent to Wake circa '85. Not too shabby, but no Westlake, home of Drew Brees. Who dat? That place is where the Ivan Drago training scenes were filmed in Rocky 11.
My game has really evolved. I collect abuse efficiently, yell "and one" without consideration, and usually come home an organ or two light. Oddly, my scoring hasn't suffered. And if you've balled with me, you know what that means. These are my not really performance-wear kicks.
Mom got new flippers too. Fancy!
This is our new taco joint. Jane prefers the Pastor at La Guera, but the fella here is a mind reader.
The aforementioned, outfit by Ambriel and the Modfather.
And one.
My photo shoot for the FC SCURVY roadshow. Congrats to Cap'n Scurvy, who tallied a bunch of stats recently.
Mom's luxury tramsport, at the Greenbelt.
Which ain't stroller friendly. This was borderline humiliating. Dad, ready the Ergo.
Phoneline, direct to DJ Lance Rock.
Playdate, as imagined by Highlights.
SPOON, free show, Waterloo records parking lot. New record is alright.
Consider the column left.
Jane station.
My ongoing series of small merit. Blackbirds and Segway nerds.
And the requisite hoo-haw, to little avail.
If you're reading this, click here. Part of my pledge to accumulate more clicks than the GEORGEREPORT, which has a substantial lead in the office $2 bill skill raffle. http://www.shiner101.com/
I'm giving the Hurt Locker 4 stars. ANVIL gets five stars cause those guys need the assist. Feel a project coming on.
Christmas clean-up, last of that bunch.
Fonzie, at the Dry Creek Saloon. This is criminal.
Around town. That's a real moontower.
Jane is the same size as the raccoon that has been terrorizing the trash cans. We hope to have pics of me wearing that pelt this time next week.
Ssams night. Kind of one of the best meals ever. Slab steak, whatever that is. I asked for hangar, butcher laughed and said cows only come with two of them. I thanked him for the beef lesson.
