I succumbed to a nap after work this evening, and it knocked my ass to the other side of the bed; doze shackled to a sour, inambitious mood. I expect to have a better record throughout the week. I should be editing away at the PAC platform and mission statement, but it'd end up looking like a plank with a nail in it if I rubbed at it, now.
Now, I suppose I'll sit and scratch my head 'til work, tomorrow's meetup, and Thursday's PAC meeting.
embittered for no good one,
Monday arches its back.
The verte and blanche now depleted, nothing to do but shrug and wait for Kari to get home from work. Probably need to find some late dinner, and venture into Deadwood season two. Is it the twenty fifth? Happy birthday, Maggie!
Holy heavens, I'd better shave before I lose track of my face.
No notes from MacHairy and the gang since his text message noting arrival, Thursday morning. Rex indicated Ron's new place [read: flophouse] is still free of water and power, so I hope the cats are faring well.
No gripes 'bout this weekend, though. Hopefully Tiffany will be back in town to hang out another time soon, if not for the next MNRG season, and Zhac will make a more common presence. Last night, tossed-off sixty bucks in poker. Also, I am forced to offer a footlong thanking to newcomer Mike for bringing over some shisha, +1 hookah.
Holy frijoles! That crazy Buffett is tossing off $30B+ of his eggs. I can smell the end of the world. Next thing you know, Bernake will quit his job and start reading Rothbard.
I know what the end of the world smells like,
The wreckage of a week.
I am a tuckered little tike. I'd recommend closing my nights at a better hour, but my circadian rhythm is bent on my destruction. On to tomorrow, though! If you find your skull numb with nihil, we'll be celebrating Luke's twenty third birthday and my cousin's presence in St Paul. Yes, that's a happy birthday, old man. We'll be wailing on the Culligan jug at ten, and stabbing wildly at olives at midnight. Click it or ticket.
Kari and I are now participating in the organization of Corey Sax's new child--a PAC, Hands Off! Minnesota. Hopefully some interesting events will be pieced together over the remainder of the year. Keeping a peeled-eye out for folks willing to volunteer! Website construction almost completed.
And finally, Bonk, Soderstrom, and MacKinney arrived in New Hampshire around 3:00 a.m. this morning. Land-HO!
how many authority-hating hooligans can you fit into our unit? That is rhetorical.
Hay hay, I said HAY!
...drop that slotted spoon, mister! Take a peek at Wiki's "Featured Article of the Day" (though it is likely too late for you, jock-O). I spotted this just as I was sitting down with a glass of fine la Fee Blanche, which I do find superior to the verte. It is almost depleted, too, suckers. For MacKinney's bombastic send-off party in week prior, the lovable Nik Ludwig donated a leftover bottle of absinthe verte and three-quarters of a bottle of blanche; immense better--which is being finished as I type. This weekend, the cuz 'Tiffany may be in town, and with a couple of other local yokels, may brigand the verte, if I don't sooner. Anchors away, barnacle...noses in the seas of anise.
In the news, thanks to an AP wire, I have been referred to as "Libertarian Party chairwoman" countless times. An honest thank you, modern medicine.
I'd best creak the door and blow the lights, soon. With a barrel full of feisty suits from Nu Joisey in town for work tomorrow and the remainder of the pie, I'd best be riddled with rest.
I hope the verte lasts the week,
Thank you, Jeremy MacKinney. Thanks a million...I was freaking out about this being implemented in Chicago a year and a half ago.
shh...Uncle Sam is listening.
Presentunity Luke's new (though certain it's been tried before) invention...NACHEETOS.
The pepper jack topping I can live with, but there is something terribly mortifying about Cheetos out of the microwave.
...I am surprised it doesn't smell funny in here, now,
A band of farewells.
To get it out of the tube, the LPMN nulled its endorsement of Sue Jeffers for governor this last Monday, on account of her decision to pursue the Republican Party primaries. I won't express my disappointment, and rare fury, but I wish her nothing but the best in September.
This coming Monday brings the departure of my dear amigos Bonk and MacKinney. Though I didn't get to drink with Anthony (Bonk) very often, between LPMN meetings, meetups, and his presence through poker night, there will certainly be an open space. On the MacKinney side, I can't help but sigh at the loss of someone who has been one of the most excellent comrades-in-arms I've had about. We'll miss you, Hairy. You'd better post on your stupid blog more often once you're out there, and less of this cut-and-paste crap! Darn, I'll miss you guys. Now Luke, Kari and I will only have Rex to tear it up with on Saturday nights, and he doesn't even libate. Oh, lugubriousness!
Alright, enough emo.
If your book is open, there is a MacKinney/Bonk/Soderstrom send-off party rearing this Friday. Who's coming?
On a hoppy-skippy note, Kari and I met four years ago from today. Love you tons, doll.
another Wednesday survived well,
Murking about the week.
Outdated, but excellent soree shot.
Stellar weekend up north with MacHairy and Luke Douglas! Nothing of too much excitement to report, aside from making a mess of a spin target with 30 rounds from Jeremy's Mini 14. Some renditions:
Jeremy firing, me and the 4 wheeler, asses at the grill, unsuspecting, Lee clawhand, Luke inappropriate with some ketchup, walk of fire, dangerdance, STFU!, the mouse and the lion minus a thorn, some thoughts, hooligans, terrible trio, ninja dust.
Bought me another ounce of gold through Rexus, otherwise some awkward LPMN political discomfort--but hopefully all packed up heading forward...press release pending, possibly.
Forty days and forty nights,
we suffered the fateful draught of the blogger outage. Here I type in pace, hoping that it doesn't crash and burn around me. Must be short, quick, clean. Cock like Papa Hemingway.
Ammo and firearms stocked an' piled mountain in the living room, we'll probably be the best-armed vehcile in the midwest, 'til the Porcupines make for New Hampshire.
In other news:
No picnic, here. I am putting off 'til Monday.
On Mondays, Justine and I raided a couple of bars this last one. St Paul won't be the same...either that or I had a couple-too-many rail scotches and ranted my fair share.
Now I've up north to hark, and Kari's return to Minnesota on Sunday to avast. Well and good.
[this took me three and a half hours to post, which resulted in a billion saved drafts. Sometimes I hate you, connectional internets. Almost as much as I hate you, Jeremy MacKinney.]
...and legs like noodles,
after five to six miles of marching in the hot, hot sun. See what the sky did to my skin?! I am not an outdoor kid.
Some highlights--dropped a bill seventy at the Sportsman's Warehouse on a new holster (like a cloud strapped to my belt!) and a fistful of ammo for the coming weekend. Aside from being worn out from today's parade, I do have this excellent shot of Sue Jeffers, holding the "great sword of Mars" with the one and only Vulcanus Rex of the Vulcan Krewe:
I'm floppy...dropped by the practice space for a bit tonight, and had a decent time, though it is a struggle, while my skin is still simmering, and I did the most work I have since I moved last year. Fizzle, plop, out.
I said, be on the lookout...
Hot post-on-post action!
I am not kidding when I quote this, "nathanhawthorne: did you watch the speeling bee?"
Oh, you and your Evan Williams, MacKinney.
Meanwhile, in Mordor (Washington DC):
"The House of Representatives recently passed funding for a new federal mandate that threatens to put thousands of small farmers and ranchers out of business. The National Animal Identification System, known as NAIS, is an expensive and unnecessary federal program that requires owners of livestock--cattle, dairy, poultry, and even horses--to tag animals with electronic tracking devices. The intrusive monitoring system amounts to nothing more than a tax on livestock owners, allowing the federal government access to detailed information about their private property." - Rep. Ron Paul
This is only a pre-cursor to those of us resembling homo sapiens. For those of you pshaw-ing, just give it another 3-10 years, if this country stays in one piece. I'll put you on the list of 'told you so's.
there's a FEMA agent under my bed,
Fireworks this week.
A flailing letter from the RPM Machine to the RPM delegates, regarding Sue. This second document makes me especially giddy--make sure you read it, and give three (3) cheers. Did you read it? They sent that to *their delegates*! It might as well be a flyer for the LPMN--it's got the URL and everything!
Makes you giggle.
Luke the Ripper.
I just returned from the kitchen.
A few minutes ago, I heard a maniacal cackle outside of my bedroom. I stepped out to see what was amiss, to find Luke, a crazed look in his eye and sauce smeared around his mouth, standing over the kitchen counter with a knife clutched in a white-knuckled fist, hacking wildly at the last piece of taco pizza from last night, olives and lettuce tossing about.
exhibit b, shortly after he spotted me, dropped the knife, and scurried into his bedroom:
Be on sharp lookout for this dangerous madman.