Hola, bienvenido muchachos. I’m out of the office this morning on a personal errand/work of mercy, and may not be contributing all that much to the conversation until later in the day.
We’re doing something a little different today, because I needed a break from the usual women in tight lycra begging for attention on Instagram.
Here’s a young woman in a pretty blue dress.
I think my cough is finally far enough in the rearview mirror that I can plan to work out this week. Feels like it’s been ages, and I’m bound to be sore, but it’s got to be done.
Is this still a triptych?
Hello weekday and weekend warriors. This has been a really interesting week for the MJ household. First, I found out that although interpuppet sex generally doesn’t end with procreation, we have succeeded. Second, wiser can suck a dick, nay a whole bag of them. And finally, the blog really misses Cyn. Whatever Jimbro, Pupster, and James did to run her off will requires punishment. I suggest that we each send them a flaming bag of gratitude.
I wrote this song for Hotspur.
Here is a pic of your mom:
Feel free to add updates. Let’s make this a community project.
I got some funny. /car in
This would have been good yesterday, but that’s Leon’s gig.
I’ll choke a bitch.
Moose is looking forward to the summer already – this is from LAST summer, of course.
I’m going to try and make some bread out of buckwheat sprouts next, because I’m trying to find something bread-like that I can feed to Possum that isn’t made with industrial waste products (try to find a commercial bread loaf with no canola or soybean oil that isn’t Ezekial Bread, good luck). I might have to get a grain mill attachment for my stand mixer, but it’s not like it gets used much now anyhow.
Anyone ever made buckwheat sourdough? Tell me how.
She looks perky.
So I watched the heck out of this movie on HBO when I was a kid. It’s on Netflix now:
If you’ve got 90 minutes, it’s a great nostalgia piece. Sheen does his “sober guy” character for a change. And there’re a lot of Pontiacs going fast. And Turbo!
Hillary Clinton will never be president. I can’t think of anything I could compose that might surpass that as a motivating and inspirational statement.
Also I’m running late and might be sick, so it’s all I got right now.
I miss warm beaches.
In case any Monday-only lurkers missed this:
Anyhow, I’ll probably need to hit the weeds a few more times. Be sure to check out the rest of the videos on that channel if you want to see some cool coloring stuff. The channel owner has her own coloring book coming out soon that looks pretty fun if you’re into that sort of thing.
This isn’t her.
I got the CO2 sub-unit, the pressure-washer gun upgrades, and the initial hole in the tank done. Hole needs to be widened and threaded, and the torch barrel needs to be carefully removed, heated, bent, and reattached. Hoping to get the hole sorted out later today after I have a bigger, more powerful drill. I’ll have to meticulously clean the tank of aluminum dust and shavings at that point, so I won’t be rushing.
Desert sex cultist.
Things just keep conspiring to slow me down on this thing. Should have built it last June when I had plenty of time on my hands, but of course I didn’t know yet how much I needed it in my life. I did get a chance to re-read the book yesterday, so I feel really, really ready to just build the darn thing. I just need a block of time at the right time of day (4-5 hours, preferably starting between 8am and 11am), and that’s darned hard to come by anymore. I’m running out of time, too. I don’t want to do this when the ground is laden with dry leaves. Hopefully I’ll get to it this week, even if it means building it in steps over a few evenings.