Hello, my little monkeys.
I hope this Friday finds you well. For me, today is a little disconcerting. Tomorrow, yet another good friend is shuffling off his mortal coil, and marrying.
Disturbing? Perhaps.
Unnerving? Absolutely.
It almost doesn't make any sense. How is this happening? With this (God willing) successful marriage, the pool is down to (team Massachusetts) me, The Silver Fox, and Snuggles. (Sorry, K, but you're involved with Roscoe, and thus removed from qualification.) In Maryland, it's me, Lipstick Mike, Big John Holmes, and Clark. (Same here, everyone else. You don't count because of your situations.) Why do I count twice? I just do. But, think of it this way; that makes me twice the weiner.
And, actually, The Silver Fox is involved. Now, its me and Snuggles.
God help us.
For all the ladies out there, special insight: I can understand if your initial reaction is to dive for the phone in a rutted frenzy. Just relax. We're here, and you still have your shot. You see, when you draft one of us, you're drafting a quality veteran player, not some dipshit rookie who can't rub yer feet worth a damn. Our pedigree is such that you can sit back, and actually watch your life improve the minute you interact with us. And you'll notice immediate benefits: ATM machines will suddenly give you more cash than you ask for "by accident," people will seek you for advice, and there is a good chance you will become a rock star. Besides, once you let us put our filthy man-paws all over you, its all over...
So, good luck, ladies. We're judging you on poise, creativity, and effort.
The line starts in the back.
(Hey, you know what? I feel better now.)
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