One More Day/Act of War
So I'm co-hosting my in-laws for one more day. They're headed back up north Saturday night and I'll be back to my regular schedule.
In the mean time, I am washing my eyes out with soap, harsh soap.
Just a short while ago I got home from Hollywood Beach (just north of Miami, for you northerners) where I witnessed an unforgivable act of foreign aggression: humongous old Canadian guys in Speedos.
They were everywhere. They were sproutin' out of the sand like palm trees. I consider that sort of misappropriation of loin cloth to be tantamount to firing a shot over your enemy's bow.
Why, men, must you wear garments that only hot, skinny women should wear? It ain't right.
And least anyone accuse me of being anti-Great White North - I'm not, though I admit I did enjoy South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut - you should know that if these guys had been fat, old, American men in Speedos, I'd have posted about an unforgivable act of domestic terrorism.
Put your dang pants or normal man-shorts on guys. No one other than your wife or the widow in the condo next door to you wants to see your goody bag or even an outline of it.
OK, I'm off to do the final barbecue.
Peace and hair grease till tomorrow.
In the mean time, I am washing my eyes out with soap, harsh soap.
Just a short while ago I got home from Hollywood Beach (just north of Miami, for you northerners) where I witnessed an unforgivable act of foreign aggression: humongous old Canadian guys in Speedos.
They were everywhere. They were sproutin' out of the sand like palm trees. I consider that sort of misappropriation of loin cloth to be tantamount to firing a shot over your enemy's bow.
Why, men, must you wear garments that only hot, skinny women should wear? It ain't right.
And least anyone accuse me of being anti-Great White North - I'm not, though I admit I did enjoy South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut - you should know that if these guys had been fat, old, American men in Speedos, I'd have posted about an unforgivable act of domestic terrorism.
Put your dang pants or normal man-shorts on guys. No one other than your wife or the widow in the condo next door to you wants to see your goody bag or even an outline of it.
OK, I'm off to do the final barbecue.
Peace and hair grease till tomorrow.
Labels: acts of war, Foreign aggression, Speedo




