And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around

Everything has changed.

Absolutely nothing's changed.

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend.

I know I did.

I didn't bother with pictures, though.

Sometimes, it's a burden to document the things one does, particularly when one lives someplace like Bozeman, Montana, where there is a limitless supply of cool things to do.

But, nevertheless...

Occasionally, I will do something and think,

"You know what?

I'm gonna keep this one for myself.

After all, there has to be some incentive for my deadbeat friends to come out here and visit me.

If I just post everything on the blog, they can sit on their ass, eat Cheetos, and never come visit."

I will tell you this, however...

Stinkfist/Big Wampum/Catpiss Junction/Chocolate Thunder is only getting better.

For reals.

We played for a couple hours on Friday, and, like fine wine, we're only getting better with age.

(Carp, you should hear Bells on that freaking drum kit.)

I don't even want to sit there after he gets done.

Really, he's pretty amazing.

I am holding my own on the axe + vocals.

Maybe I am even getting better myself.

All I know is that we are my favorite band.

And, I know now that I need to ramp up with equipment.

Perhaps an electric.

Perhaps an amp.

Perhaps a microphone.

Perhaps...

Next thing you know, Stinkfist/Big Wampum/Catpiss Junction/Chocolate Thunder will be rocking living rooms, porches and coffee houses across the greater Bozeman area.

(UJ, Carmela- I hope you had a wonderful honeymooon. I love you like a little brother ((and sister)), and I hope to see you soon.)

Also, another cool thing is that Bells and Alicia's kid, Aden, totally recognizes me now. He's starting to talk (he is 19 months old), and I can pretty much make him light up with recognition and a huge-ass, four-tooth grin.

That's a pretty damn good feeling.

Gotta go.

P.S. Entourage?

Sex in the City for dudes.


P.P.S. (I am the (((king))) of parentheticals.)