Russia, Russia, Russia! If I rolled my eyes like I want to, I would be able to see into my brain. It occurred to me a few days ago that my father in law insisted on joining me on a walk last November and started talking about the election. His theory was that Hillary had been harassed for 20 years and there has never been any evidence of a crime so all of the allegations must be bullshit. After I collected my jaw from the ground I muttered something like, ‘so what you’re saying is you have just eaten 10 space cakes and didn’t share any of them?’ Not true, I actually didn’t say anything because I don’t really talk about politics with anyone but my lovable internet family. But I can’t wait to use that line this Thanksgiving–he’ll tell me it doesn’t matter, Trump is actually a Russian spy, and I’ll say something like, ‘so what you’re saying is you’ve just eaten 10 sputnik cakes and didn’t share any of them?’
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Little Known Fact…Stalone invented Zumba
Keeping with our Russian theme, today’s model is from a former Eastern Bloc country or possibly Mother Russia herself. I mean, just look at her. She’s like 5″11, weighs 120 pounds, has tatas bigger than Red Square, and looks like Mr Bean. Please give a warm, stern looking nod of approval to Karin Spalnikova!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!11!!!!!1!!!
Like a drunk American college student in Thailand, I accepted the internet’s word that the above title means Thursday in Russian and that hooker really was a chick. I just hope I don’t find out years later четверг means “Bite The Wax Tadpole” or something worse. Ever since the wee hours of the morning of November 9th, the 1980’s have been calling America nonstop and they want their foreign policy back. I figure it’s high time we learn some Russki culture.
I miss you all. No time to write before I have to be in bed so I can sleep really fast and get up early to get a few hours on the clock at the office before my wife has to go to a dental appointment and I have to hang out with Li’l Possum for the afternoon. This is the 200th MMM poat — believe it or else — so I should really have done something auspicious. I didn’t.
So, pictures! First, a triptych.
Happy Thanksgiving week, everyone. I’m working 2.5 days this week. It’d be 3 but the wife has some bidness to transact on base and I’ll be staying home with the baby so she doesn’t have to truck the poor lass out to Mt. Clemens and back.
In this post we’re going to peer into the future and have a look at all the things Alex might see when he joins a yoga class for the only reasons any straight man joins a yoga class.
The ab wheel isn’t really a yoga thing, but you still might see it.
I’m announcing my departure today to the people who have to officially be told I’m quitting. After that shakes out I get to discover how I’m going to get read out of my programs (“debriefed”) which I’m pretty sure I actually have to do on site. So I have to quit, travel, get read out, then travel home and file my expense report, then pray to God that these doofuses actually compensate me for expenses. To quit. Oh, and I have to take them the laptop, two monitors, and the docking station.
I’m keeping my stapler. And the tape dispenser.
Still, I can’t safely travel until like a week after the baby is born, unless I make it a day trip. It’s a mess.
Hands on hips = power pose.
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Who says these are not womyns?
C’mon Iwannalayya
Herro, have you seen the Tuesday art poat?
For Cyn!
The Official Sports Team of The Hostages
Get TITS2 & The H2 Stuff
