Good morning, and welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day. The RFH family has been watching Star Trek: The Next Generation on Netflix. Mr. RFH noted that when Lwaxana Troi talks to the computer, she’s talking to herself. (Majel Barrett Roddenberry played both parts for you non-nerds out there.) The episode “The Outrageous Okona” led me to this gentleman.
You might remember Billy Campbell from “The Rocketeer”.
That’ll put a little swash and buckle in your day.
Good morning, and welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day. Let’s get started.
I like this one because he reminds me of this song.
Good day, lovelies. Today we will explore the concept of ‘less is moar.’ Rather than big ugly whales with ud-hers the size of Rosetta’s head, we’ll be taking a look at just the eyes, which somehow become hotter when they are obscured. I dunno how this works, but it works. Submit to my Friday post, bitches. It’s science!
And now some music! I wrote song for you in the early 90s. It’s a love song, filled with revenge, violence, and what I can only guess is a deeply held white hot rage to kill you. It was Car in’s wedding song.
* Tool–Crawl Away
* Also, dat gap and belly button.
Good morning, and welcome to the Crossfit edition of Hunky Hump Day. A new skort to Carin for the suggestion.
Good morning, and welcome to the lifeguard edition of Hunky Hump Day. I’m LOL’ing in my pants because that URL has “fap” in it. Fourth grade is fun.
Where was I? Oh yeah, HHD.
You remember this classic from a previous HHD. Say good morning to Thomas Beaudoin.
The weekend is over, and thank Heaven it is. I socialized way too much, spent far too much time talking, and nearly lost my voice. I told the opossum story three times on Saturday to different groups who had yet to hear it. Even I am sick of it now, but at least the trauma is finally past. I made it through another family gathering without starting any serious arguments or eating any of the devil gluten that was prominently offered. Threading the needle of the weekend, I passed through the madness, and once again welcome the warm embrace of renewal that is Monday. Now, on with the show.
Send me an angel.
Good morning, and welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day. Think of this as twofer Tuesday, except it’s Wednesday.
First, congratulations to Adam Scott for winning the Masters.
Greetings to all, unless you voted for Obama, in which case I’d prefer you self-immolate (right after you pay your taxes, assholes).
It’s Monday again, and that means it’s time to go back to work (congrats again, Vmax). Here’s a little something to get you going.
Failing that, it’ll at least get me going. Close enough.
She looks tired.
This is the oldest one I have. A Remington Model 33 in .22LR. A single shot bolt action rifle.
My dad’s uncle (who raised my dad, his parents died when he was very young) gave it to him in 1942. Dad was eleven. He gave it to me in 1977, just before I left home*.
This was the first firearm my father taught me to shoot with. It was the first firearm I taught my girls to shoot with. Always good to start with a .22 rifle, it “plinks”, it doesn’t jump or hurt. It gets a new shooter used to the idea of firing a weapon.