Well, we got back safe and sound from Da Up North, Eh? Had a ball in Bessemer with spacebee and the family. As I mentioned earlier, we were afforded the unique opportunity to watch The Super Bowl at bucketheads in uptown Rhinelander. They had $1.50 Miller Lites and free Hores Durves set out in back. I drank three buckets of Jameson and then Stacy drove us ‘home’ to the Quality Inn.
I goddamned hate Super Bowl commercials. “Here’s a talking (noun), buy our shit!” “Here’s a wacky man-child (verbing) a (noun), buy our shit!” “Here’s Tim Tebow, don’t get an abortion or prenatal care!” Eat shit, Tim Tebow.
I skied for three days and fell down three times; that’s a shitload better than last year and I consider it a resounding success. Let the mountains ring with God’s graciousness and ma-jest-fucking-ty! We also returned to the infamous Pub N’ Grub for Thursday night karaoke. All the old pals from last year were there and, again, by the end of the evening I was Marcus-n-Mcteague’n it with all of them. Six dollar pitchers of Miller Lite and Jameson shots will do that, son. On the way back home I desperately wanted to go to (in order) the Watersmeet casino, the Lake of the Torches casino, and Ho-Chunk. By the time we got south enough to consider Ho-Chunk, however, I just wanted to sleep on the couch the rest of the day. So… no Ho-Chunk. I still owe wwhazz a night at the Canfield for his birthday, though, so anyone that wants in on that is welcome.
Wwhazz, thanks for doing our cat for a week.
There’s not a lot of upcoming events here at Whazzmaster Central– spacebee’s birthday is at the end of the month and at the same time (coincidentally) as my Yearly Start of Daily Wishing It Would Warm Up Already, Dammit. I got her a birthday gift: The Big Minnie. Black. Clean. Tight Curl. Turquoise bead wrap. Now that I look at the description that way I can’t decide whether I bought her a hat or a dildo. Say lah vee.
I really, really gotta get TNG on the Tivo. We’ll make a space for it amid Spacebee’s ten thousand episodes of Criminal Minds. There must be some room in all that serial killing for Data’s quest for humanity or Troi in a skin-tight leotard. I assume that somewhere in history someone has already made a joke about a leotard being a retarded leopard, but the word still looks weird when I type it.
Pickles and grapes!