Well, now you've seen a glimpse of the future. When I'm old and in ill health, living on a tiny fixed income, I'm going to be one ornery son-of-a-gun.
Oh, who am I kidding? I already am, and I'll probably never even make it to 'old'. Apologies to the bloglines subscriber who was apparently traumatized by the reality.
Speaking of the future, it's only one week until a beautiful trainwreck commences all over that city called Las Vegas.
I'm not ready, but reviewing the word artistrity of Mr. Joe Speaker is helping me get mentally prepared ... his composition in anticipation of WPBT December Last was GOLD.
Time to make a list.
In one week, I plan to be:
(a) Introducing myself to the 31 registered bloggers whom I've never met before (and probably getting 29 "who are you again" blank stares in return).
(b) Starting an intensive alcohol therapy program.
(c) Once again losing money at each and every casino game, including poker.
(d) Scouting out horses for random donk-betting on Sunday.
(e) Putting down at least $20 on the Lions to not cover.
(f) Running into Iggy at least once at 6:30 a.m. at a bar in the IP.
(g) Propbetting someone willing to eat several platefuls of food from the Emperor's Buffet that they can't do so and keep it down for an hour.
(h) Hoping that I'm sufficiently conscious to make my early morning return flight.
I could go on, but I'm out of prune juice.