Go West Young Man, I Mean East

Gray day, smothered in fog, unable to shake off the Monday’s, I find myself feeling like the above Short-eared owl looks, and it is the end of the day. It wasn’t a bad day at work; I just didn’t want to be there today. Tomorrow should be better, lunch with the boys and a party after work, then it is the weekend. Dave should arrive home tomorrow night, and Rey on Wednesday. With Dan and I that makes four men and one woman for the weekend, I’m guessing that Anne will be putting the toilet seat down a lot this holiday.

Anne learned at school today that Dave is writing a paper. One of her colleagues went to high school with Dave and is also a Facebook friend. Hey wait; we’re friends on Facebook with Dave too. Checking it out … What?!? Dave has submitted an abstract for a paper that he plans on presenting in Hong Kong this May. I hope the State of Indiana is paying for this? If so, I feel bad about Anne’s and my alma mater, Michigan State, beating up on Indiana so bad last Saturday, 55-3. Well, at least we let them score.

That’s all the news that’s fit to print, now it’s time for the good stuff, the really salacious stuff. Like the stuff on Huff Post that you dare not click-on at work, and I’m not talking about just the articles explicitly marked, NSFW. [Ed. note: I don’t click on these articles at work.] I’m talking about big breasted celebrities, with their arms around the neck of Father O’Blivion, with lipstick on his collar. I’m talking rude japery and impulse buying. I dare not go any further, because I am trying to keep this blog family friendly.

I apologize for leading you, the reader, on. I feel like the salesman in that old saw, kneeling at his wedding bed, he proceeds to regale his bride with how great the lovemaking will be, all night long. You see dear folks; I’m already banned in Maplewood. I don’t want to be banned everywhere else, except maybe Boston.

I want a good blog, not a bad blog, but I do see how a bad blog could workout quite well, but no, that is not the way I want to go, it would boost readership, but no, and make money, no. [This sentence is running on so long that it is already grammatically obscene.] I just want to be edgy that’s right edgy. Ding, Ding, Ding, word count, that’s enough prattle for tonight.

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