Seems wrong, really.
No, I'm not talking about the fact that I left out a subject in the above sentence.
Hemingway did it. Often. And. He blew his brains. Out.
But, I digress.
I wrote quite brilliantly at one point about my upcoming triumphal return to Grand Rapids, Michigan.
At the time it seemed like a faraway, distant dream.
Well, my stupid friends, that time has nearly come.
I am to board a jet plane (or, to use the parlance of this golb--haha! spelled it backwards--aeroplane) on Thursday morning.
So, I am sounding my Stupid Trumpet to all those within earshot.
I will be hosting enough drinks at One Trick Pony to make most of Fulton Street stupid on Friday night (I think).
Foo, if you must, I will purchase for you an Sarsparilla. Stupid, if Wifey will not allow you the drink of a real man, I will put froot punch in your sippy cup. ( wow! that was a LOT more insulting than I thought it would be at first )
Anyways, please respond if you would like to join me for a Cretins Conference. It would be a pleasure to see you!
The internationally famous Pickle Weasel