Weekend Update



The sticker on my kayak.  Oddly enough, it is also on my hard hat.



Friday was the perfect day to sneak off and have fun.  We elected to go kayaking.  And by "we elected", I really mean, "I decided".  Several chromosome deficient co-workers of the Sugar Momma convinced her she would need a helmet, gloves, specialized survival training, and world-class proficiency doing the Eskimo Roll.  I hate them for that.  Those jerks got her all worked up about going down a river, which from every trip I’ve taken on it, is only dangerous from a "you might spill your beer" perspective.  I hate them from the bottom of their retard shoes to the tops of their balding retard heads.

She did a fine job for her first time out.  This river is clean, clear and full of wildlife.  The relaxation and enjoyment benefits cannot be overstated.  With that in mind, I will NEVER TELL YOU PEOPLE where this river is located.  Too many people would ruin it.  I took Exador and his Mrs. out there once.  Of course they were tied up in the trunk going to and from the campsite.  Or drugged.  I can’t remember. 

At some point during the trip, I wondered what it would be like to take a bunch of bloggers down the secret river.  There is a campground nearby, that if the bloggers wouldn’t mind being drugged and riding in the trunk, that the group could have a big camp out.  But unlike most blogger get togethers, the ability to hit the eject button and bail out would be damn near impossible.  So much for that fleeting thought. 

Also, note to self:  Getting a sunburn while wearing a wife-beater looks far more idiotic than having no sun exposure at all.

Saturday was well spent due to leaving the safety of Sarcastro Manor for the soon to be famous Mothership BBQ.   Everyone and their Coble has given a review of this place.  Here’s all you need to know about this joint.  The Knucklehead asks everyone how their pork was.  The group and I muttered some bland assessments as to the taste and quality of the meal.  The Knuck stops everyone and announces that in his opinion the pork was not up to his standard.  He gave no excuses as it was late in the afternoon, and the holding cabinet wasn’t working properly.   He took personal responsibility for the quality of every meal.  That includes meals consumed by blog stooges who were undoubtedly going to come back regardless of the quality.  Knuck gives a shit about what he does and takes pride when it turns out well.  That seems to be a lost art in most restaurants.

A good example of  that is the Nashville Airport.  These bastards could care less if you EVER come back.  Many airport bars that I have frequented have very congenial servers and bartenders.  They know that travel in this day and age suck.  They attempt to be at least personable, if not professional at their jobs.  They also work for tips.  Apparently, Nashville’s Airport Authority likes to hire old Russian grandmothers who can’t multi-task.  This one babushka was so over her head today with ten people sitting at the bar, that you would have thought the Germans had laid siege to the fucking terminal.  Clearly her work ethic came from a Marxist-Leninist economy.  Or she has been a University Professor, same difference.  She was the definition of incompetent.  So bad that she didn’t know how bad she was.  Some rude words were mentioned with her in earshot.  I wouldn’t have cared if she spit in our beverages.  At least we would have gotten something to drink.  We wound up leaving with our thirsts unslaked. 

The weekend wound up with some of the finest words I have heard uttered in ages, "Tell Your God To Ready For Blood."   That’s right kids, Deadwood is back.  Al Swearengen could well have been talking about blogs last season when he said, " Bad news or tries against our interests is our sole communications from strangers, so let’s by all means plant poles across the land and festoon the cocksuckers with wires to hurry the sorry word and blinker our judgments of motive."


2 Responses to “Weekend Update”

  1. Exador Says:

    Your plan must have worked, as my memory is a bit sketchy as to its location.

  2. Mac Says:

    Fuck yes, Deadwood!

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