I always write this shit on word. I never do it right in the blogger window, but today I am. Why? I went to see the copyrights and the cobra skulls last night. I heard the new teenage bottlerocket record. I saw some good friends and 2 different sets of cans and a beav and I can safely say that a great time was had by all, if by all I mean me. I think I may have been repeating myself by the end of the night, which isn't fun to listen to. So whatever. Sorry, dicks.
I just got back to my inlaws house. My wife's working, my inlaws are off doing shit and as of now, it's my job to prevent the baby from doing all the things he does that could potentially cause him to die, which is pretty much everything he wants to do. Stairs? He's headed right for em. Sockets? Let's lick em. Knives? Heavy pots? Shattered glass? Yup. He's all about it. SO, I gotta keep this real brief. Every moment that the baby wanders unsupervised is a moment that I am really half assing this daddying thing.
Okay, so quickly, this morning, at Johnson's Corner, I saw a Highlander. He was seven feet tall and dressed as a cowboy with spurs jingling on his boots. No shit. He just walked through the diner, looking for other highlanders to kill, and when he didn't find any, he just sauntered on out. There can be only one.
That's all, folks. I'm tired and I gotta walk the baby around the block so my old lady can work. Send me some jug/clam photos please, ladies. My inbox is nothing but dongs these days.