So, I’m at the gym last night, and notice a bunch of folks grouped around a section of the bouldering wall. Strong folks, used to climb with them when I was stronger and they were waaayy weaker. Whatever, go off and do my thing. However, it dawns on me that “CS” is there. (Think what Michael Jordan is to basketball, or Wayne Gretsky is to hockey.) He’s in town, visiting his gf.
At a certain point, I go over and talk to him, firmly establishing my role as wannabe star fucker. We get to talking, he mentions that he finds it a bit chilly up in our neck of the woods. So, what do I do? That’s right, I try to convince him to take up back-country skiing and winter camping. Because, heck, why bother being a minor superstar when you could instead be practising a sport that will leave you hurting, cold, and miserable?
For some reason, I don’t think I succeeded in convincing him.
Two tourists were walking together at the Grand Canyon. They saw some eagles soaring above them. Later the tourists slipped over the edge of a precipice and unfortunately plunged to their deaths.
Their souls left their mortal bodies and ascended to heaven. As they rose they saw the same eagles and one soul cried out to them, ‘Ah – Eagles.’
But the eagles, being polite, said nothing.
Went to Adonis the other night, to pick up some herbs for some lamb. Turned out quite nicely, was really simple and, heck, lamb is my favourite vegetable. Now I have this huge bunch of mint left over. What to do, what to do? Oooooo, mojitos.
Let it snow, we’ll be raising a glass or four. Now if only we could find a drink recipe with cilantro, our herbs would never go bad again.
Not for me. For my tires. I just realised that, the moment snow falls, garages all put “out of order” signs on their air pumps. Why is this?
A fellow goes to the doctor, for what he describes as a “personal” problem. The doctor asks him what the problem is.
Patient: Well, you see, doc, I wake up in the morning, my wife is just getting up and, feeling horny, we do the act. Then, I go downstairs to make my coffee. Normally, the maid is already there. So I do her also.”
Patient: Then, when I get to the office, my assistant usually comes in with the day’s updates, so we go at it on the desk. Heading home, if I pick up my dry cleaning, the clerk and I usually end up humping in the back. Finally, my wife requires even more satisfaction before we go to sleep.”
Doctor: So, what’s the problem?
Patient: Well, doc, it hurts when I masturbate.
I really thought that, in the wake of Tuesday’s elections, that the, um, losers, were over-reacting and that things would calm down. However, seeing the other maggie’s recent blog, I’m presently looking for salt to add to that crow I’s gotta eat. However, I truly believe that any Stater wishing to immigrate to our fine country must know the difference between a quinzee and a snow cave.
On another note, did anyone catch My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss last night? Fucking hilarious.
And I, for one, am ready to take up arms. That’s right, you heard me. So all of you on the other side of the fence, heed me well, because I’ll be searching you out and tripping you up every chance I get in the following months.
I know, it will end in tears, but it’s a small price to pay. Damned snowboarders. Hee.
Sucker! But no, honestly, the fact that I didn’t pay for my food and drinks before leaving the Yulblog didn’t dawn on me until I got home. I’m having a blonde week.