This is me around September 2nd. I’m the one on the right. The woman on my left is my pharmacist. I was at home watching Wife Swap and scribbling cryptic notes in a febrile panic Flannigan/Logan a repetition of Crevecour, de Tocqueville? WRITE OBAMA! I would take an occasional break from my studies to pick up a Bleu Monday and an unsweet tea. Events other than these were regarded with exasperation, despair, and contempt. I let go of the rope and watched it drift in with the tide as I slowly spiraled out to the Gulf Stream buoyed by a PFD of synthetic opiates.
Then, in the middle of the night, I heard the keening Horn of Gondor calling me back.
This is a picture of me now-
Pools of angry butter clot the battlefield. What did I do? Everything. I changed up the dynamicity of this whole operation.
Juancho
I have to say, I dig the various shades of Juanchos that may show up on this site at any given moment.
That and your wordsmithyness keep me coming back.
If you happen to be lacking a reason to rattle your sword in its scabbard, the Dirty Ron is going down in a week and a half. A long day in the saddle, followed by lamb-burgers and beer.
I was thinking of getting into SCA events too! We can collaborate on broomstick swords and practice our linguistic mixtures of Elvish and Klingon.
Changing the dynamicity tends to be a helluva lot easier said than done, but HELL YEAH, you did indeed do it!
My main question is what is the Dirty Ron? I’m sure we would all like to know.
Or maybe we wouldn’t.
Here ya go.
http://www.apebike.blogspot.com/
Your pharmacist looks worried. Your horsed-up king looks constipated.