Birthday party and/or mail order brides

CaPiTalIZATION rules are dumb.  Why do we even need them?

Today when I opened this blog, there was a link to the right that apparently allowed me to purchase a bride through the mail.  My question is: do they ship her USPS or FedEx?

Now on to the issue of the day.  Today I shoved a certain number of 12 year old boys (the actual number is a variable based on the reader's affiliation to law enforcement) in my car and had them bounce around on tramps (trampolines.  The other kind will be on the 18th birthday), fed them pizza, then set them loose on the neighborhood.  You may have heard the sirens.

So that was an awesome thing that happened today, and for all of the people, minus one, in the entire world, it was perfect.  The minus one existed because a conversation earlier in the day between myself and the mom of the kid whose dad is the coach who has an assistant coach whose son, because of the delivery of produce, caught KD's warmup shirt.  She asked the innocuous question of how is Cole doing.  I gave the normal non-specific answer of, "Fighting the fight."  Then I got to thinking about the possibility, nae the apparent likelihood, of  going back the the regular week long hospital visits.  Now I am a fundamentally optimistic person with a slightly off kilter flippancy.

Normally when thinking about going back in to the clink, I think about all the fun gaming we will an all the Pringles I will be eating (Pringles is the hospital word for the thing you eat when you are in a place where the drinking of Scotch is frowned upon).   Today; however, I thought about the 3rd floor through the prism of today's festivities and a dark cloud formed over my flippant optimism.  I don't think I want us to go back inside.

So what to do, what to do?  Well as I sit here and watch the clock slowly tick towards 2am, I have decided to honor a certain Muddy Lancer and engineer a solution.....wait, I suck at engineering. Plan B.  I will make a presidential decree wherein we will no longer allow illegal immigrant cells to obtain refuge in safe haven bodies.  All such cells must immediately vacate said bodies and go back to the hell from whence they came.

Scans in one month.  I might be a little crazy(er) until then.

Peace Be The RunningS

Age, Blood Draw, Cancer

Way back in my 30;s (most people incorrectly put an ' when saying something like 30s so I am highlighting their dumberness than me by putting a partial butthole with mine) I learned that all of my years playing marathon sessions of Civilization, Madden, and watching Saved By The Bell marathons had all been preparation for and had been instrumental in the creation of my ability to sit in a hospital chair for hours on end.  Well now I am in my 40"s (infra) and I feel my skills slipping.

I only had an 8 hour session in the hospital room today and it nearly wrecked me.  Thanks to my beautiful wife for recommending that we go to Grill House for dinner.  And thanks to J u l i a Ha Dd IX for the booze that is causing me to think that my insane rambling is actually brilliance manifested.

Some of you may think that today Cole and his dad went to UCSF for a planned 8+  hour day of periodic lab draws, but you would be wrong.  Oh how wrong you would be.

Technactually what had happened was that this morning I found my self in my favorite alley with my home boy Faze.  Our favorite diner was closing so they were throwing out the choicest of garbage when all of a sudden we see some dude steal a nice grandma looking lady's (by nice we mean soft and sweet, not hardcore biker chik badass like some grandmas that I may, or may not, know) purse.

While our time as wandering homeless superheros in our own mind had taught us that this was not a strange occurance, it became strange when the robber suddenly turned into a dog and began bounding down our alley.

Faze yells to me, "Polymorph catch him.  Let's be heros." Without hesitation I use my superhuman agility and catch the dogman.  I get my hands on him and...well you all know what happens then.  Long story short, Faze and I ended up in an adventure rife with super heroes, conspiracies, an enginerd who had a huge butt on his shirt (or was a butt, or had a smelly butt...), and generally made a mess of everything.  If you want to hear the full story, send me $10.987 and I will fill you in on the details.

If today's post does not make any sense, then check your premises and adjust accordingly.  While you are doing that raise your glasses and toast Faze who will use his power to change certain naughty cells to vapor so we can end this business.