July 11, 2008

Yet Another Cookout…

rmiles7721July 11, 20081Travel

OK folks. I was going to spend my days off this next week (the only week in July that I actually have two days off) either in Hilton Head or Destin but I think we are going to stay in town. I would love to go to the beach but I want to conserve a bit of cash. After spending well over $6k for ten days in Florida last month I need the break anyway. Thursday I think I will take my oldest daughter to Six Flags instead. The Marine and I used to do that every couple of years and we always had a pretty good time.

We are going to host a cookout either Thursday or Friday, whatever is better for folks. I’ll send some emails out but if you don’t get one that doesn’t mean you aren’t invited it just means I don’t have your fucking email address. Shoot me an email or call me if you want to come. The number is 770-313-3231. If’n you think it’s a bad thing to post my number on the Internet, hell it’s already there anyway. Leave me a voice mail because if I don’t have you in my contact list I WON’T answer the fucking thing anyway but I will call you back. Maybe. Let me know if you want to come and I will email directions. Also tell me which day it should be. I know that Friday is probably the best day for folks since it’s a work day, but since it’s summer time I figured Thursday might be acceptable as well. I can drink Thursday since I am off Friday but I have to behave myself Friday. Not that I get drunk and act stupid or anything, I just get drunk and act stupid. Oh yeah, kids are welcome too. Gotta have small moving targets.

Zemanta Pixie

Dead Bird in the Road…

rmiles7721July 11, 2008Site News

Something happened this afternoon that brought back a humorous memory. This is one of those ‘had to be there’ things that just sort of happen. My friend Madame Foo will remember it as did my wife.

A few years back we attended a funeral for a friend of mine during our teenage years. If I recall, he hung himself. Probably faced with future prospects of having to vote between Obama-McCain no doubt.

Anyhow I drove to the funeral. I don’t remember who was in the car with us besides Madame Foo and the wife, it might have been Michelle. We are driving down the road and all of a sudden Madame Foo starts hollering “bird in the road, bird in the road, DEAD BIRD IN THE ROAD” as I ran over the fucking thing. We all rolled down the road cackling at the top of our lungs, because that’s what death does for you. Humor is always a good way to deal with it. Told you you had to be there.

Anyhow, The wife and girls came up to one of my restaurants and met Bou and the boys for lunch today as she was passing through our area. Actually it was out of her way but it was nice to see her since I will most likely not be able to get off of work until 2PM Sunday and will therefore miss the little get-together Elisson is planning.

Focus…focus….don’t derail the train of thought.

So the wife leaves the girls with me and goes grocery shopping. I was almost finished with work and had just planned on heading home. Once we arrived the girls set themselves up on the computer while I decided to take a much needed nap (I will explain why it was so needed shortly). When she got home she called and asked us to come outside and help bring the groceries in, and oh by the way, I needed to bring my camera with me and see what was stuck in the grill of my car…

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Brown Smasher…er, Thrasher. The poor fuck never had a chance. It had it’s little head tucked beneath it’s wing as if it ducked at the last moment while saying “oh FUCK!”. Luckily there was no dead bird goo for me to clean off of the car. A nice clean kill. What better for roadkill stew? It never even touched the ground. Alas, I chucked the body into one of my gardens for the scavengers to fight over amongst themselves. As soon as I saw it I thought “Dead bird in the road” and repeated it to my wife while the girls, who weren’t even born around the original incident, looked at us stupidly. I didn’t show them my latest victim of course. There’s only so much a five-year-old can take.

Just call me Bird Killer. Gotta get a T-Shirt…