Sunday, February 21, 2010

Are You Picking up What I'm Putting Down, Yevgeny?

The Subway Five Dollar foot long commercials are pure crapsicles. Much worse than the "ice dancing" I've been subjected to. Please let me know who I need to write a strongly worded letter towards. At least Beav lets me guffaw guffaw when the pantsuiters feather finger the crowds and cast coyly raised brows to the peanut hawkers. These adverts remind me of why I should be building cabinets.


What happened to men's figure skating? As Beav pointed out, that used to involve bald dudes in leather vests and bare chests, whipping around to Bruce Springsteen, gayly clapping, doing backflips. Badass! When did this become Knots Landing?



JB, inspired by the patriotism, training for 2024. Let's hope they program beerhunter and washers.


We got culture, Jane and I checked it out.




Daytona, home of the Franklin Mint appreciation society.




Hit the trail this morning, 70 here. Inspired me to come home and bag leaves. Which resulted in some form of rash, on top of massive abdominal cramping, caused by a flat sandwich from a mortuary on wheels.



Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Doug Henning.




Moments after this snapped, finger injury. Dr. Dan, bandaid man, summoned.

Here's a little jig set to some Surfer Blood. Who let the patient out on good behavior?

Cancel.


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