What A Long Strange Trip It's Been

I quite enjoy fall. Summer has its moments, but it's pretty warm and sticky in the midwest. As I drove home from running this evening I noticed that a real live football game was happening at the local high school. Yesterday I contacted someone with whom I haven't spoken in more than two decades. Yes, life is good; not easy--but very blessed.

Better Days... Better Ways

How sweet! That rhymes! Last night I dreamed that I went to visit my uncle in the burbs and for some reason his grown children were flopping at his abode. I searched his house, but he was not to be found. Even the contents of his den and his groovy kitchen art were missing. Seems that he had relocated some of his stuff to an alternative locale. This makes sense, as my uncle should be far far away by now, doing time at his cabin on the lake. It's an older, more rustic domicile than those around it. Said neighbors are richies and their cabins' respective appearances leave no question.

Yesterday, Tonto... Tomorrow America

"Get Fucked By A Parked Car"

Words I haven't heard since I attended high school. Then, she was a friend of a high school girl friend. I inadvertantly bumped into her in the hallway. At the time, I didn't even hear the aforementioned response. Rather, my former girlfriend later filled me in. Ah, the joys of pissing off one's mate's friends. And, yes, it gets better once you're married.

Zup With This Dynamite Concept??????

Obviously the person who originally penned the grating quote "dynamite cometh in small packages" was a small bastard who had been passed up for one date too many or had his ass kicked one too many times.

Nuff said.

Daddy! The Top Came Off!!

What the hell is up with all these jerkwater gherkin burpers who drive the official "we build excitement"-mobile? Of course I'm referring to Pontiacs. First Michiganites nicked the name from Native Americans, then GM slapped it on some giddy-up-goers. Next time you're out n about, watch the Pontiacs (the cars, not the people) and I think you'll see what I'm about to describe.

Owners of said cars drive like they're on their ultimate sugar/coke rush and are dying to get somewhere to get fixed again before they come down. Pontiac drivers are consistently the wildest bastards with the heaviest lead feet on God's green earth. And the speed doesn't end when they abruptly park their Burt Reynolds wet dreams. Typically, these are aggressive people with attitude.

Remember, I warned you. You see that flippin Pontiac comin, look tha hell out...