She said a good day ain't got no rain.
She said a bad day is when I lay in bed and I think of things that might have been.
I am a dork. This is well-documented. (e.g., I freely and voluntarily attached an orange crate to the back of my bike; I have a blog; I read...books)
My favorite store is Costco (followed closely by Bob Ward, a ginormous sporting good store, which makes a little bit more sense for a guy like me), and I dragged India there for an excursion. She caught the fever. It was one of those examples of wedded bliss: just me, my lady and a five gallon bucket of soy sauce.
I am usually fairly restrained there, and by and large, I resist the Vegas-style, Paxil-laced oxygen buzz. I fight the thoughts: Fuckin' A, that is a ten pound tub of brisket. I could bathe in it if I wanted. I am content to just deleriously wander around, pushing the huge cart, soaking in the sights, sounds, and a few samples. Nevertheless, a ridiculous purchase or two finds its way into the cart. For instance, India and I convinced ourselves we needed a plastic jug of 50 biscotti...
Anyway, I was so excited to go that I grabbed my camera, and India just looked at me and said, "No." You have been spared pictures of trampolines, vats of mayonnaise, 50 gallon barrels of windex, et al.
===
My last post garnered quite a few comments and questions... The bacon fries I had envisioned, as I channeled Homer Simpson, were regular french fries that had somehow been injected with bacon.
Now, I have eliminated fast food from my diet, but I would make an exception for bacon fries. French fries and bacon were born for each other, like peanut butter and jelly, BBQ sauce and anything, or even Batman and Robin... that is, if bacon and french fries could run around in tights and enjoyed the occasional, erotically charged open-mouthed kiss.
Come to think of it, just dreaming up this culinary delight/coronary nightmare got me so excited I think I just peed a little.
Someone needs to do this. Soon.
==
The snow looks beautiful on the peaks. This weekend's storm passed through and on Sunday and Monday it was clear blue skies, 70 degrees and fantastic views.
I am holding off on any photos, because you're probably gonna be choking on pictures of snowy peaks once Big Sky opens.
==
I wanted to give a little shout out to Birsch, one of my childhood buddies, who is getting married this weekend on the Outer Banks in North Carolina.
Birsch, you rock, dude. Sorry we couldn't make it. I know you guys will have fun, and we wish you the best.
My favorite store is Costco (followed closely by Bob Ward, a ginormous sporting good store, which makes a little bit more sense for a guy like me), and I dragged India there for an excursion. She caught the fever. It was one of those examples of wedded bliss: just me, my lady and a five gallon bucket of soy sauce.
I am usually fairly restrained there, and by and large, I resist the Vegas-style, Paxil-laced oxygen buzz. I fight the thoughts: Fuckin' A, that is a ten pound tub of brisket. I could bathe in it if I wanted. I am content to just deleriously wander around, pushing the huge cart, soaking in the sights, sounds, and a few samples. Nevertheless, a ridiculous purchase or two finds its way into the cart. For instance, India and I convinced ourselves we needed a plastic jug of 50 biscotti...
Anyway, I was so excited to go that I grabbed my camera, and India just looked at me and said, "No." You have been spared pictures of trampolines, vats of mayonnaise, 50 gallon barrels of windex, et al.
===
My last post garnered quite a few comments and questions... The bacon fries I had envisioned, as I channeled Homer Simpson, were regular french fries that had somehow been injected with bacon.
Now, I have eliminated fast food from my diet, but I would make an exception for bacon fries. French fries and bacon were born for each other, like peanut butter and jelly, BBQ sauce and anything, or even Batman and Robin... that is, if bacon and french fries could run around in tights and enjoyed the occasional, erotically charged open-mouthed kiss.
Come to think of it, just dreaming up this culinary delight/coronary nightmare got me so excited I think I just peed a little.
Someone needs to do this. Soon.
==
The snow looks beautiful on the peaks. This weekend's storm passed through and on Sunday and Monday it was clear blue skies, 70 degrees and fantastic views.
I am holding off on any photos, because you're probably gonna be choking on pictures of snowy peaks once Big Sky opens.
==
I wanted to give a little shout out to Birsch, one of my childhood buddies, who is getting married this weekend on the Outer Banks in North Carolina.
Birsch, you rock, dude. Sorry we couldn't make it. I know you guys will have fun, and we wish you the best.