Saturday, February 16, 2008


(My face, and Noreen's killer abs, smudged to maintain our top secret identity.)

I try to make a point of meeting with the girls once a month for pure, adulterated mayhem. No, we don't do any of that silly "Girls Gone Wild" stuff. But we would like to slap the girls who do. We don't, though, because you know, we're a peace-loving bunch. And speaking of my Gandhi-inspired lifestyle, I am posting this photo here for now (with a story to come later) because I know Bram from The Pittsburgh Comet digs chicks who can kick ass. He may change his mind after I kick his. ;-)

Since Noreen, in the middle, is my friend, I merely lifted her above the pool table and didn't do anything crazy like throw her out of the window. I told her I was going to shoot her out of a cannon next, but we couldn't seem to find one, even with the help of our friends George and Michael at The Large Hotel, where a group I kept calling the Vibrators or the Sperminators (but are really called the Jaminators) were playing. (Make peace George Michael?)

And sorry, Lori, on the right, your boobs took up way to much of the photo so I cropped them out. Sheesh. We need to get you a minimizer for crying out loud. Do you know how much memory your mammaries eat on my card? Whoa.

This concludes my Saturday morning bedroom dispatch. Keep the faith.