Damn, fuzzy fuzzy weekend.  Missed my 6:10 AM flight back.  Neither of the wake up calls worked, ’cause the phone in the room didn’t.  Imagine that.  I was able to hop the next one out, for 25$.  Brought the damned overcast skies back home with me.  I was gonna go fishin’ this evenin’, but my ass is wore slam out.  Crapload of blog roll work to do now, and I think Rob was the only one sane enough to get people to write the info down.  I’m hopin’ somebody that “took attendance” will post a list and simplify things for me.  If I’ve got to count on the brain cells I loaded up with the info of who was, and wasn’t there, that blog roll work might take a while.

I got a few pictures, but can’t, well, ain’t supposed to post ‘em, but I also have a couple videos that I’ll put up if Rob, and Jimbo don’t mind, hell Denny too.  I caught the last half of the “Gay Cowboy song”.

Zonker may have some additional footage…

I got home today to broadband that didn’t work, again.  I’m hooked up via the cell phone I have.  Tethered it to the laptop, and it’s on now.  If things are sketchy from here for the next few days, well, that’s the reason.

Damn…  What a good time.

It’s time.  It’s eleven PM EST.  I gotta jack my ass up at 4 AM EST.  Such fun.  I’m lobbyin’ family members to help.  I don’t know when I’ll get to Austin, but Chou does.   I’ll be there when I get off the plane if I don’t get lost in Hotlanta.  I may call Zonker just to wake him up when I’m passin’ through.  I swear.  Rough stuff.

See you all tomorrow.  I’m out.

Hell, it’s not what you’re thinkin’. You know, they got that show on ESPN that comes on on Tuesday nights, Bonds on Bonds. Reality stuff. Riiiight. Anyway, I was lookin’ at ol’ Barrys HR count this year, hell he’s got 3. 3.

Damn man, my son’s got 2, and he’s hit ‘em in the last three days and played in fewer games.

He’s never failed a drug test either.

Watch out now Babe, Hank, and Barry…

Buzz’s supplement you ask?

Chicken Wings from Pizza Hut…  Spicy Hot.

Well. I couldnt take it any longer.
I took this afternoon off. I planned to do some laundry. and packing for the early flight tomorrow.
Turns out the neighbors have a new family member. A “stretch” wannabe part weiner dog and part chijuaua. I understand it can say , “Drop the chalupa” in german.
The little fella talks a good game, but playin’ with Jack or Carbon aint gonna happen. He gets stepped on once and runs home. My boys don’t mean him no harm, they,re really tryin’ to include him in their reighndeer games…  He’s just outnumbered, outgunned and outsized.  Ain’t his fault.  I’d be scared if somebody threw in in a yard with Gotzilla.

If I can translate what he was whinin’, I think it was “Attention Tokyo Airport, Gotzilla is approaching”…

Anyway, Chou, I’ ll be the waterhead holdin’ the “Blown-Eyed or Bust” sign in front of the baggage claim. See you all tomorrow.

PS:  Why I have a need to hit the baggage claim is beyond me.  I travel light now.  If it don’t fit in the overhead, or under the seat, I don’t bring it on a plane.  It’s not like I gotta wait for my golf clubs or somethin’.  I guess I could throw my alarm clock in a suitcase just to seem legit, but some asshole would probably think a suitcase with nothin’ but an alarm clock in it was a “explosive device”.

Ain’t goin’ there.

The “cable man” came today. He enabled me to work from home from about 12:30 until quitin’ time. One more day in the shop, then I’m outta here. Early flight outta here, and an early flight back on Sunday. I’ll ask at the desk when I get to Austin if there is any way I can get that time moved back. 6:10 departure after the Saturday I’m likely to have ain’t gonna be pretty. I might be able to get up by 6:10, but be at the airport by then, having checked in, been “inspected”… That’s gonna be a damned early rise.

I’m gonna have fun this weekend, I’m certain of that, but… I’m gonna miss the NFL draft, and I’ll probably miss Talladega, where Dale Jr. is drivin’ a Bud car that’s painted like the ol’ #3 was. I’ve seen pictures of it on Fox’s site, and it looks awesome. Kelly’s probably gonna be there at the track watchin’ the race. Have fun Kelly.

I got a couple emails today from Dash and Marcus, lettin’ me know not to purchase any styrofoam in Austin. Marcus has my back. Gracias, muchos gracias Marcus. You bring it, I’ll fill it. That’s Marcus now, not all y’all. Looks like I’m eatin’ lunch with some of the peep’s on Friday. That ought to be good. Dash man, hell, Tex-Mex, or a big ol’ hunk of beef, either way, I’m down with it. Hell, I got your email and started tryin’ to think of things I won’t eat… Neither was on the list, and the list was pretty short.

Poor Chou’s runnin’ the short bus from the airport to the hotel. I’ll try not to lick the windows. It’ll be hard, but I’m confident I can do it if the ride ain’t too long. What should I tip her? Any suggestions? One thing’s for sure, I know whatever I do, Zonker will up it a notch or 10. So, what do you think? How far is the danged airport from the hotel? I mean, damn, gas is higher now then I ever was in high school. That’s where they sent me to learn how to get high…

Another thought crossed my mind, what, if any, is the dress code for the “Salt Lick”, or whatever it’s called where we’re supposed to go Friday night. I’m gonna go out on a limb here, and guess that wearin’ a wife beater and a pair of shorts is frowned upon. I’m assumin’ birtday suits are not encouraged either, well, especially for 40 somethin’ males. Casual? Formal? If it’s formal, you can count me out, but if it’s casual, define casual. I’m a ‘Neck now, my casual probably don’t match yours. Matter of fact, I’ll bet it don’t. Basically what I’m askin’ is this. Do I need somethin’ that come off a hanger, or can I pull it out of a drawer and be good to go? See what I’m askin’ here?

There is a crapload of people goin’ to this thing, and I’m diggin’ the vibe of it all.  Many I haven’t met before, some I have.  It’s gonna be twice as nice ’cause I’ll get to see some of the one’s I met at Eric’s, and meet some new folk as well.  Just freakin’ awesome.  After gettin’ to Austin’ at 10ish on Friday, I hope I’m still awake at 10 that night.  If I ain’t I hope I wake up in my room.  If I do, I hope my face ain’t painted…  Think ’bout it now.  It could happen.   It’s happened before.