Sick. I feel awful. My nose will not stop pouring snot from it's caverns and my head is pounding. Then Mica rolls over and reminds me that "Sex and the City" opens this Friday and that means I have to take her. I agree, but only if after we can go see the new Indiana Jones movie. I'll use 70 year old Harrison Ford to wipe the estrogen off of me.
Maybe his next adventure will be the cure for the common cold.
In somewhat chronological order...
Sunday morning comes down and with it comes an early park session. Andrew roasts it over the hip and reminds me that I might be getting better on a bike, but he has forgotten more than I will ever know.
Rob the Bastard (Ret, for those Control Zine fans out there) did this before waxing poetically about the wonders of a skateable labia.
Garrett has regressed on the nuk front a little, but I guess I do what I can to keep peace between the households. My baby mom's should pause and reflect on this coming father's day...because I am pretty sure that lesser men would not put up with their bullshit.
The grandmother comes through with the means to buy a swing set! Despite the best efforts of my neighbor's kids to destroy it, Anna can now play on something in the backyard other than the half torn down dog pen fence!
Sometimes, I take a picture when I am just fucking around and it comes out in a way that I was not expecting. That is the case here, and it is my new favorite pic of Mica.
Last night I see Zack and he has brakes on his steed and I am all, "whaa?" and he is all, "yeeeeah!" and I am all...
Then he blasts a one footer and burns his shoulder with his tire.
Jamie Smith with no shirt on is just too much. I feel better about "Sex and the City" already.
I end this with a 270 from Josh. Josh goes fishing, works for the city of Maryville, does barspins like they are nothing and floats these with abandon.