Counting down those minutes till quittin' time on Wednesday, aren't we sporty. Me too. I look forward to days off with Mrs. We're each others right hand man.
I started to build a snowman and then my hands got cold. I've got some thick rubber gloves that you boys would hate seeing your doctor wearing but it's going to be 50 on Thanksgiving so why bother.
Good thing Ma didn't design the Marlins new uniforms.
I'm about to see if the Statute Of Limitations has run out on that pea soup.
I could see taking a candle making class.
Historically, this is where my fantasy football team takes a big shitteroo. I go back to the days of manual scoring with the old newspaper on Monday night. These days you don't even have to know the people in your league. Ah, the days of the fantasy draft party...swords, titty grabs, Grandma's car on fire, Big Da Da passed out on the steps. It ain't a party until something gets broken.
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