So, Monday morning, nine a.m., twenty-one degrees F., snow on the ground. Predictions are that the weather will stay below freezing all week, with a chance of more snow on Wednesday or Thursday. Which will put us into the record books.Hummingbird feeder froze solid. The Garden Buddha got kinda chilly, but real men aren't bothered by a little cold, are they Bobbe?
17 comments:
Man, it must be nice to live in such a warm climate.
You lotus-eaters don't know how good you have it with your naked garden parties and all.
Now were you stuck or not..a spatula and Pam spray can unstick ya...LOL....
For
Fuck's
SAKE
I don't have enough Vicodin Steve.
Please.
Bobbe, it sure sounds to me like you are headed for the table.
When you get out of there you will be a new man but until you do you are in for a world of suffering. It may not be as bad yet as it's going to get, either, so think about that if you are hemming and hawing about what to do. I was in a situation where I was scheduled for surgery on a Monday but I had to hang out for a whole weekend of unbelievable, off-the-hook agony. It deteriorated noticeably during that weekend.
You may be able to get someone to give you a morphine or fentanyl injection. That may help you to get a head start on the pain, and then once you have that, the vikes should do a better job of keeping it whipped down. Also that other unapproved thing I mentioned helps BIG TIME when combined with a small dose of opiates.
I'm not going to harp on this anymore, it's just that when I hear people talk about it I get a sympathetic reaction to the point of literal physical twinges...
How do you get your wife to hold still and stop laughing long enough to take these sorts of lurid pictures??!?!
I was going to say you've got bigger balls than me for sitting out in the cold like that.
But after sitting out in the cold like that, I doubt it.
Lurid? Moi? I only put it up as an object lesson for Bobbe -- see, Kid, what happens if you don't take care of yourself? Wind up like this ...
I'm a Southern boy, like Bill Clinton. We all have a little Teflon™ in us, nothing sticks, not even snow.
Besides, it's a chance to practice my tumo. If the Tibetan monks can do it for eight hours and dry wet washcloths off with their bare backs, I can manage a minute for a picture ...
Om, motherfucker, om ...
Wind up like what, a senile old man who hasn't got the sense God gave a billy goat to put some damn clothes on?
Clothes are for the bourgeois. The avant garde need no such trappings.
OK, I've been busy. But finding that this sort of thing starts going on whenever I'm occupied with other things leads me to conclude that I need to come by more often.
Look, if you ever need advice, just ask. I'm here for you. I'm your friend, I'm not like the others ....
Hah. The day Steve Perry asks for advice...I mean, seriously, Dan, what's he gonna say; "Hey man, d'ya think I should teabag a snowdrift in my yard, wearing nothing but what the good lord dressed me with,in front of God and everybody?"
What advice would you offer someone like that?
Nyer, Nyer, I'm in Arizona!
I'm going with the notion that an omnipotent god can see through the ceiling, so S/He has seen me in the shower. Shoot, in the hot tub, any passing helicopter can get a willy-shot ...
Hey, I ask for advice. Why, just recently I can recall asking somebody if they thought my Nehru jacket went with my madras paisley shirt. Can't have been more than thirty-five, forty years ago ...
Arizona. Yeah. Get back to me in the middle of July when you can cook eggs on your forehead ...
Oh, and by the by, the term '"tea-bagging" isn't appropriate. Time you walk to your mark, "walnut-ing" is more like it ...
"Pea-nuting" in your case.
Speak for yourself, shrimp-boy. You didn't see the wheelbarrow I had to use to get there ...
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