A pinch of pictures, and a smattering of words.
As the house lights go down and the holiday weekend’s performance draws to a close, I bid it a fond farewell.
As the house lights go down and the holiday weekend’s performance draws to a close, I bid it a fond farewell.
I got all blown out on the process of giving thanks, and between freezing my ass off on a bike ride and then replacing all of that lost ass with a ridiculously huge dinner with the in-laws, a new post fell by the wayside.
Rest assured, I’Ill have one squared away for Monday, but in the mean time, please know that besides my collection of women’s saddles and not yet sat upon sunglasses, I am thankful for you, the faithful readers, for without you, I would be in a world of hurt. Or I’d be washing dishes.
So with the utmost sincerity, I say thanks again for the continued support.
Graphic courtesy of the exceptionally talented Tobias Lunchbreath.
Between posts expounding on movies I’ve seen, strange new cyclocross practices and incoming barrages of shirts shaped like Ts, the old mail bag has gotten filled up again.
Because I’ve just about exhausted all mail-related imagery, here instead is a graphic of a little girl setting herself on fire.
I sometimes live a blessed life.
I mean, it’s not one of Caligulan excess, but it’s pretty good.
I drink too much. The last time I gave a urine sample it had an olive in it.
As we get to the bottom of the barrel, and are scraping it with our gigantic silver spoon, our minds are as pure as our bodies are tainted.
Image and corresponding story via The Bunnyhawk.
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