Saturday's date was fun. It wasn't anything earth-shatteringly stupendous with sparks, fireworks or handguns, but it was a nice time, and I had a really hilarious conversation with a very beautiful lady.
Other than that, however, today I have a wicked cold, and I've been trying to deal with a massive ice-dam on the roof before it works its way under the roof and into my front hall. Man. That's annoying.
So, today I am going to be a domestic, little, ice-chiseling weasel and leave you wild folks to talk amongst yourselves. Tomorrow, I'll be posting my response to some of the gripes from the Gripe Line. So, feel free to scream, rage, be silly or whatever. Have fun, and I'll see you tomorrow.
By the way, if you haven't yet checked out Paul "Stubbs" Little in what could be perhaps the World's Most Psychologically Damaging Outfit a Child Could Ever Wear, I suggest you do.
Of course, I've got equally embarrassing photos of myself in a pair of paisley pants with a matching vest, but, fortunately, I don't have a scanner (that you know of). All I can do is scratch my head and wonder what the hell my parents were on for them to make me wear something that nasty. In fact, my twin also had a similar "outfit," and when he and I would jump into the '72 Impala for a family outing, we'd disappear among the interior of tacky upholstery because of our camouflage.
(update 2:30 pm, CST) I've run out of tartar sauce. Supplies are dwindling. Soon it will be dark. Today is double coupon day. Pray for me (Yes. There are no atheists on Double Coupon Day).