You'd think I'd crumbleYou think I'd lay down and dieOh no, not II will survive

To clear the air:



I'm moving because I want to. I am staying in Bozeman, just changing houses.





I want a bigger house. I want a hottub because snowboarding beats the snot out of my body. I want to quit my gym and have one inside my house.

I already have a gong.



I want a separate, insulated, soundproof room, where I can have amplifiers, drums, microphones, guitars, smoke machines, mild pyrotechinics and maybe a small cannon.



I want horseshoe pits, a trampoline and a midget butler who always wears a tuxedo.





I want a blue-faced, red-assed monkey that can mix a mojito and bring me a grilled cheese.



I want three or four pinball machines, a 50,000 gallon saltwater aquarium with beluga whales, a bowling alley, a stripper pole, and an archery range with anatomically-correct targets in the likeness of popular celebrities from the 80's.



Knock the smirk off Billy Crystal and you get 25 points.




Shoot Whoopi in the nuts for 50. Bon Jovi's hairy nipple for 100. Something like that.



I would bet $ 100,000 that Bon Jovi shaves his chest these days.



Any takers?



I also want a koi pond and a waterslide. No, make that a koi slide. You haven't shot a tight, spiral waterfall with an orange carp-like goldfish?



You simply must, dahling.



There will be a poolside sushi chef.



Also, I am going to need a bookcase that opens when I pull on Tales of nOrdinary Masdness, revealing the fire pole down to the caves and dungeons.



Think the Batcave mixed with the Grotto at the Playboy Mansion... except you have to open a bookcase and slide down a pole to get there.




I also want a dungeon with a gimp, but the water table is pretty high here in Bozeman. Plus, with NAFTA and child labor laws, I'm not sure I can do the gimp, the midget and the bowling alley.

Within city limts, anyway.



This is not 'Nam, Smokey, this is bowling. There are rules.



Jesus.



All of these pictures, including the red-ass monkey and Bon Jovi, were taken by me.



Bon Jovi and I were once very close.



Oh, so close.



I can still smell him.



Ahhhh.



(You're wondering when this will end. You're wondering, and hoping, that it doesn't.)



That's because you have a job.



It's Friday, the best of all days, and if you can get a sitter (or a midget), you can go out to dinner, go to a movie, and maybe, just maybe, make out in your car, get a boner and go back home.



Me?



I live in Montana.



We have Class IV rapids.



Things get rough.



(You are still wondering how and when this will end, yet, deep down ... at work with your shitty coffee ... you hope it doesn't.)



It can get rough here, what with the mountains, the bears, the rivers, the mountain lions, the gimps...



No words remain.



There are none.



None.



You think I'd crumble



Oh no, not I



I will survive



I will survive



Wipe that look off your face