I was down, I fellI fell so fastDroppin like the grains in an hourglass

Well, well, well.

I know, I know.

Dude... what did you do today?

Hmmm, let me think.

I did a number of things.

I got online, chatted with babes.

After that, while still online, I traded some options and some stocks.

Y'know... I made some sweet moolah with Uncle Rico.

Then, boom.

I got a phone call from the LB. You may know him as Husker. Some people think he's my boyfriend.

Oh, I admit I love him, but that's as much as you are going to get.

As far as I'm concerned, what happens on the sand volleyball court stays on the sand volleyball court.

I can't quit you, Husker....

(By the way... do you people know how hard it is just being me?

Do you have any idea?

You don't, do you?

It's work, people.

Not everyone can do it.

And thank your lucky fucking stars that I am here, doing what I do... for you.

Because, if I wasn't... well... things... things, um... they'd be, uh... ah... um... well, I don't know what the fuck they would be, but you better goddamn recognize.)



^^^That's Camera-shy Erika, Husker, and Cosmic Charlie.



More of the fabulous family, along with childhood friend, Cosmic Charlie.



The thing I hate about Montana is that there is nothing to see, and what you do see is all Ugly.



UJ, just so you know... there was a lot of conversation about you, right about when this picture was taken.

Wouldn't you love to know what we were saying?

I would, too.

Too bad for you that you weren't there to hear.

Trust me, though...

Your balls?

They were thoroughly busted.

And for that matter, Antuan Randel El, so were yours, so wipe that smug fucking grin off your face, you versatile scat-back motherfucker.



Yeah, we hiked.

We saw.

We kicked a little ass.

OK, it was a lot of ass.

But who counts, when there's that much foot and that much ass?

(Think Ronald McDonald vs. J-Lo.)

(Yeah, that's a lot of foot, and probably twice as much ass, if not more.

Ass, that is.

Even considering the clown shoes.

It's a lotta foot, and a lotta ass.

Big foot, big ass.

Buncha kicking.

People running for cover.

You know, from all the ass we were kicking.

With those big clown shoes.

Or maybe it was the wig they were running from.

Or the ass.

Fuck it.

They were running, anyway.)



Awwwww.



So, these dudes, Cosmic Charlie and The Husker, used to pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, whitewash some fences and trick each others girlfriends into throwing up on each other. Well, that was back when girlfriends used to throw up on people.



You know, in bars and such.

Back in the day, when it was cool to throw up on each other.

Or maybe that was in the vomitoriums in ancient Rome.





What is a vomitorium?

The vomitorium was invented by the Romans, my ancestors.

The vomitorium was designed for, well, vomiting.

When you ate too much and drank too much, you went to the vomitorium, and vomited.

This is really a tangent that we don't need to explore, but , nevertheless, I felt you needed to know, dear reader.

Let's cleanse the pallette with a couple of rock stars, flossing in Bozeman.


Keepin it real.

Cause you know that's how we do.

In the Dam.

Ferreals.



In the meantime, I called Mrs. Husker and whispered sweet pervy nothings into her ear.

Because I felt is was the appropriate thing to do.

I refrained from vomiting.

Because, between you and me, dear reader, I I think Mrs. Husker is the Bee's Knees.

Really.

She is.

(Mmm-hmm.)

I mean, heck, she's responsible for these two people.

So?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

The Bee's Knees, indeed.

Like I said.




Anyway,

The whole vomitorium thing came up because this lady, back in the day, dated Husker, when they were younger. And during that time, many, many moons ago, they went on a date.



And on that date, she did vomit. On Husker.

And she eventually married Husker's best friend, Cosmic Charlie.

And here we are, together again, rejoicing in the pure pleasure of keeping our stomach contents to ourselves.

As a good Roman should.

Because that, after all, is what the vomitorium is for, people.

Rejoicing.

And Refraining.

From Vomiting.

On each other.

Unless you really have to, and then, you know...

Have at it.

And let's keep it among friends.

When Irish eyes are smiling, sure it's like a morning springIn the lilt of Irish laughter, you can hear the angels sing

And there is no Irishman who has made me laugh more than Dan-O, a/k/a Henry Hill.

Without further ado, his guest blog:

It was a wild ride but we were cool; after all, this wasn't our first rodeo.

I had a ball game Friday night and brought half the team home with me because I knew that a bunch of beer drinking, know-it-all, loud mouths was just what the doctor ordered for an over due mother to be. Dawn let me know that she had been having "cramps" all night and really wasn't in the mood for a fire side chat with the guys. I assured her that the wives have all been through this before and would have fantastic input.

We started a real barn burner in the fire pit when Dawn informed me that she needed to go for a walk. "Ok, let me get my shoes and I'll go with you" I said, "and nobody better touch my beer" I exclaimed as I headed out the door. We walked and talked and squawked and balked until finally, Dawn had to take a knee...actually, it was more like a truck. A gray Toyota 4-Runner to be exact (thanks John, I owe ya one). Dawn's water broke in John & Sara's driveway around 11:30 PM she certainly didn't feel like walking back to the house at this point so she had me start checking the neighbors doors to see if anything was open:
Sidebar: Over the years, Dawn has baked apple pies for nearly everyone in the neighborhood. She insisted that anyone bold enough to shoot at me for breaking-n-entering will end up with a surprise next pie season.
Nothing was open; I should have known, after all, everyone was sitting around the fire pit. Everyone that is except the little old bitty across the street from Dave's house. She was looking out her window watching the entire thing. I'm sure she was freaking out; after all, a lady hunched over in the front yard and a guy going from house to house checking doors and looking in windows with a flashlight is a bit strange.

Anyway, we got Dawn home in 4 contractions flat. Sara attended to her while I packed the car. Troy and Teri said that they would stay the night to watch Kenna. Everyone else assured me that they wouldn't stay too long or drink all my beer. "Really, it will be OK, you can trust us" kept repeating in my head over and over as I drove Dawn to the hospital.

By this time, Dawn was in full labor. I know this not by her body language; rather, by style of back seat driving; it was different some how: "Go Faster!", "Turn on the air conditioner", "Watch the bumps", "I'm cold, more heat I told you", "slow down you maniac", "Do you even know where you are going?" Normally, she doesn't mind the bumps.

We arrived at the hospital and I was still in one piece. Dawn was all hooked up by midnight when the anesthesiologist came in. "Are you in pain, do you want an epidural?" he asked and "#$&%*!@@&#^)@!" was the reply.

"Ok then, you should only feel a small prick" which of course summoned a few more choice comments from the mother of my children.

From the moment the drugs started surging into her system, Dawn became a new person. Everyone in the room looked around and breathed a sigh of relief. We all felt much better.

By 12:15 AM, Dawn was @ 7 cm and that means the show is about to start. The Docs were all on hand and by 1:30 AM it was time to push.

At 1:47 AM, Connor Patrick entered the world. Weighing in at 9 pounds & 9 ounces and this contender didn't miss a second to say hello to the world.

So now, everyone is healthy, happy and home. Kenna loves her new brother and cant wait to boss him around.

Congrats, Dan, Dawn and Kenna.

Love you guys.