JT, who hails from Bogal-U-S-A, was in the office today. A rarity. He much prefers to spend his weekends either hunting deer, skinning deer, or manufacturing lightly-spiced, world-class deer sausage. A surprisingly gourmet affair from a redneck who won't touch Miller High Life on account of it being too high class for him.
(I believe he takes the High Life slogan - 'The Champagne of Beers' - much too seriously.)
When he is forced to work on a Saturday, he ensures his relaxation and contentedness with a six of Beast and three pounds of deer sausage. Said three pounds is far too much for someone to stomach and still leave room for beer. So he was kind enough to share. (I didn't ask about the beer. He was wrapping his steak-thick forearms around the sixpack like a momma bear cradling her cubs. And when the cubs are near, you don't fuck with momma bear.)
The point of this story is that if you are a vegetarian then you live a sad, cloistered lifestyle in my eyes. Three bites into a deer sausage po-boy, I decided that while I respect the decisions of individuals to lessen animal and/or ecological suffering I would much rather choke down heart clogging-sausage, Bambi's baby fat sliding down my three chins.
Debates right now :
Finding a superbowl party with no food but much alcohol. I only want to indulge in calories that have a decidedly depressive effect on brain function.
When to talk to Miss Current Crush again. I cannot imagine that she wouldn't not be pleased as punch to see me but as this wooing of women thing is new to me I proceed with caution.
When to quit my job. August sounds good. In fact, 'August', the word itself, sounds good too. Let it roll around your tongue. Tastes nice, round, genteel. Makes me think of a kind, portly, slightly addled king.
(I believe he takes the High Life slogan - 'The Champagne of Beers' - much too seriously.)
When he is forced to work on a Saturday, he ensures his relaxation and contentedness with a six of Beast and three pounds of deer sausage. Said three pounds is far too much for someone to stomach and still leave room for beer. So he was kind enough to share. (I didn't ask about the beer. He was wrapping his steak-thick forearms around the sixpack like a momma bear cradling her cubs. And when the cubs are near, you don't fuck with momma bear.)
The point of this story is that if you are a vegetarian then you live a sad, cloistered lifestyle in my eyes. Three bites into a deer sausage po-boy, I decided that while I respect the decisions of individuals to lessen animal and/or ecological suffering I would much rather choke down heart clogging-sausage, Bambi's baby fat sliding down my three chins.
Debates right now :
Finding a superbowl party with no food but much alcohol. I only want to indulge in calories that have a decidedly depressive effect on brain function.
When to talk to Miss Current Crush again. I cannot imagine that she wouldn't not be pleased as punch to see me but as this wooing of women thing is new to me I proceed with caution.
When to quit my job. August sounds good. In fact, 'August', the word itself, sounds good too. Let it roll around your tongue. Tastes nice, round, genteel. Makes me think of a kind, portly, slightly addled king.
ver0nika23:
august is fabulous (my birthday month), but we need to plan an SG meet and greet before then. so trot on over to SGnola and tell us where/when would be good for you.