Monthly Archives: July 2012

Nicky Twit

Somehow, he managed to get back on Twitter this morning, and took swipes at Sheri and Lady Gaga.  Her music’s not my thing, either, but she does have a good set of pipes.  I particularly like this tweet from a … Continue reading

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Full Combat Gear

Ripstop pants and moccasin boots that come up almost to my knees are standard gear.  My objective is blackberries.  That, and no ticks.  It’s not real combat gear, but if you’re going to wade into a bramble of blackberries, it’s … Continue reading

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He’s Back, Sort Of

Nicky managed to get himself to the library, and get online.  He posted a few tweets, and another one of his colored pencil drawings on his Tumblr.  Maybe it’s in crayon.  I can’t tell.  What I can tell is that … Continue reading

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Olympics

I still need ice on my knee. I don’t need Michelle Obama’s greetings.

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Was Ist Das?

For some odd reason, Reince Priebus sent me a “platinum” card.  No doubt, it was thanks for never filling out one of those RNC surveys I receive every couple of weeks.  If I hold out longer, is there something worth … Continue reading

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Bambino

It was bound to happen.  There are deer crossing signs along the road that runs past our property.  They’re there for a reason.  A fawn that still had its spots got hit, and died this morning.  I’d seen it around, … Continue reading

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Car Inspection

Why in the hell does my state require this every year?  My god, even New Jersey only requires it every two years.  WTF?  It’s a scam. In Jersey, it costs about $50, for two years, with the window sticker.  Here, … Continue reading

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Mackinac Ain’t Happening in August

Even though I could get a decent package deal during the week for a lake front suite at The Grand, there is no fucking way I’m going to Mackinac in August.  Next May and June are fully booked, even for … Continue reading

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Wholly Crap

No, not holy.  Wholly.  As in totally. I’ve had the joint cricky cratchy crunchies ever since I was a kid.  Mostly, they don’t hurt at the time, and just make a cracking sound.  But, a day later, the joint in … Continue reading

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May I Please Have A Cookie?

My mom will swear until her dying day that those were the first words I ever spoke.  Not “mama” or “dada,” but that complete sentence was allegedly what I first said. I’ll run with that, but I really want to … Continue reading

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