For Easter, this time I'm going to do it — buy a dozen chocolate bunnies and eat only their heads.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, invited me to the annual weasel-butchering party. All the relatively important relatives will be there, as they always are, and now me too. It's been only 15 years since we met, and I'm already beginning to get invites to some of the minor family festivities. (Woot!)
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is hosting a writer's workshop. They're starting with the letter 'A'. Once everyone grasps that concept, they'll move on. It might turn out to be a little like "Sesame Street" for adults, though with less fuzz and is sure to be less fun overall, except, of course, for the graduation party, when a select retired high school English teacher is fed to the tiger. (Everyone's favorite moment.)
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, bought me a tractor/trailer rig. Used of course. It came with a load of formerly-frozen miscellaneous chicken parts. About nine tons of them, I believe, all now rapidly composting, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it? "Hi, Jack" is how people have been greeting me lately. No such luck yet.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, had a chicken over for lunch. Only them. This has never happened before. I suspect them of plotting something. Something involving chocolate. Involving chocolate and not flamethrowers, I hope. I've already had quite enough unpleasant surprises, thank you.
Harvey ain't here no more. After lunch yesterday he bloated up quite severe and floated off, last seen headed easterly, waving his arms.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Learning that not all that smells good is chocolate.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
