Most of my evenings out are fun beyond the comprehension of most people. Last night set a new high water mark. It was so ridiculously fun. God almighty, I wish I could tell you, but as they said in The Matrix, you cannot be told, you must be shown. You must experience. So fun. Hope you enjoyed watching reality television for another endless night. You're dying, and you don't even know.
This sounds incredible. The guitars especially. Christ, this song is thirty years old! Insanomaticatron.
My hair is growing back, and is coming in rather sparse in thickness, earning me the nickname of "Charlie Brown" at work. I always pictured myself as more of a Pig Pen, but you gotta take what you get, nickname wise, at least.
Nicknames are always given by someone else, never self-appointed. That's one of life's unwritten rules, along with "leave the money on the nightstand," and "Miller High Life is best during, or just after, doing yard work," among other things.
I really hope my pedal is what's moving and creaking, and not my crank arm or bottom bracket.
"Medication for my shoulder? Of course I am, it's called 'Iron City.'"
I entered to win Janet Jackson tickets. Hopes are high.
Of course I'll be there, was there any doubt about it?-BK
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