Our buddy Steve called about the time we were wondering what to do about dinner with only frozen chicken and some green beans in the fridge.
“Hell, yes, we’ll meet you and your friends for pizza at Gino’s East!”
We didn’t know everyone there that well, but several pitchers of Coke and a black olive-pepperoni-garlic deep dish pizza later, it was much more betta.
Oh. My. God. That extra garlic with the olives totally MADE that pizza work. Golf claps were awarded to the person who chose the ingredients. It was a fine time and it was nice seeing some familiar faces and getting better acquainted.
Of the many topics of conversation covered (such as Steve’s continued attempts to find companionship through a dating service) this one was the best.
Arr arr arrrrr!!! (I said this a lot earlier today when fooling with templates)
SNOWBLOWER ENVY
Steve showed us pictures and profiles from his latest foray into online dating, which has had extremely limited success. As in, I don’t think he’s on speaking terms with anybody he’s met so far. He mentioned he’d been getting more interesting responses since he uploaded a new and more manly photo.
It shows Steve looking sensitive and pensive as he gazes down at the brand new 4-stroke (ooh) 2-stage (aah) electric start (oh, baby baby BABY) Craftsman snowblower he bought recently.
We amused ourselves by making up captions for it, such as “I thought I wasn’t ready for a commitment…” and “I really love the way you blow.”
However, he insists his is a snowTHROWER, and therefore better than ours, which is a much lower powered, 1-stage 2-stroke with a nasy backlash on the starter rope. Ours merely blows, but it does the job (actually, it spits, not unlike Bill the Cat).
His best response was from a nurse who works for an orthopedic surgeon specializing in hands:
“Use the tool to clean it out if it gets jammed!!” She speaks from experience.
Steve is actually a little afraid of the snowblower and is anti-hoping for snow.
TRAVEL JOURNAL UNEARTHED: THE ROAD GOES ON AFTER ALL
What was my journal of the England trip doing in a forgotten basket of unuseable or busted remotes? Anyway, it’s now at hand, and another long, longass blog entry is in the cards.
I’d do it as a side blog, with fake dates… naaaaah. What am I, Pepys or somethin?
But I suppose I could sorta fake the dates. 😉