sweasel.com

How was your hike through the tick-infested Conn. woods, Weaz? And why Conn? What’s the matter with RI woods?

Update: I bet Weaz is wrapping herself around a well-deserved drink right now. There’s no-doubt a small ecstasy-locus (An Imbibing Function of the second kind) hovering over Weasel Ave as we speak.

I hot. And sweat. And dehydrate much, McGoo. But booze, so happy now.

You never hike the same woods twice. No, wait…that’s dip your foot in the same river. Anyhow, the magic words are, “Weasel, do you wanna…?” And the answer isn’t always yes, but it sometimes is.

Just as I suspected.

I cannot WAIT until I am back in the states and able to participate in the latter part of your hike.

-The booze part.

I leave on Monday to fly back to the states and I am STOKED.

Will you be anywhere near IL, Old Iron?

Nothing bad ever happens to me. Which is why Oingo Boingo is the Unofficial Soundtrack to my life.

Nothing bad happened to me but, well it wasn’t so happy happy for one guy. I rode my trail horse up to have a steak Friday night, yes we still have hitching posts in town.

Now my trail horse is a Thoroughbred, the twitchiest, wiggiest breed of equines IMO. Normally he acts like he’s on ‘ludes, but when he freaks out it’s epic.

Drunk guy, Thoroughbred, Hoof… Ambulance for drunk guy. The moral of the story, don’t walk up behind a strange horse and smack it on the ass. The Sherrif’s deputy who showed up had to sit down he was laughing so hard. Apparently, when the dude gets out of the hospital he’s got a court date for public intoxication. The deputy opined that gross public stupidity might be a more appropriate charge.

I’ve always wanted to ask this (looking it up wouldn’t be nearly as much fun): What does Thoroughbred mean?

Does it mean bred really, really completely? Or does the horse always finish what it starts?

McGoo, well, obviously both stud and mare must be registered Thoroughbred to begin with. But, the main rule is it must be always “live cover.” None of that finicky, artificial stuff.

Hmm, I just had an idea, yeah stop laughing. My packhorse is a Mustang I got from the BLM Wild Horse adoption program in Nevada. After I got done riding last night, I get home and he’s standing in the driveway by the front gate. “How the hell did you get out?” I’m thinking.

I got McCain’d. The hoss done left the corral.

Next thing you know, the uppity packhoss will be demanding amnesty for all the soon-to-be geldings.

So you’re telling me a Thoroughbred is just a horse bred *ahem* “the old-fashioned sweaty-grunty way” with like-bred parents?

Well, hell. I was hoping it was something more sinister.

Throw in Bush, and it becomes sinister. Or Cheney. Or Halle Berry Burton.

Time to spook some of the Euros. I live near an intersection of highways that leads to Death Valley. For some strange reason some Euros find Death Valley to be a place to visit, in Summer. So, it’s de rigueur that I must accentuate their experience.

Horses saddled, check, rifle in scabbard, check, cwazy armed American on horseback as photo op, check. One must fuel the sterotype.

Cheers

rifle in scabbard

Nice combination of Old World and New.

Hot damn, Allen! That sounds like almost as much fun as 2AM Goth-hunting at Dennys!

Do you have a toothpick or nasty cigar stub in your mouth that you move from side to side with a disdainful sneer?

Do you have a scruffy three-day beard?

Do you abuse them?

I love to treat foreigners to a true American Experience.
I take all the Japanese who come to visit us to BillyBob’s in Fort Worth, so that they can see that people in Texas really do wear boots and cowboy hats.

Before we go there, however, we go to Risky’s barbeque to eat giant beef ribs with our hands like fine young cannibals, and drink huge schooners of beer.

The highlight of the evening, of course, is when we go over to the indoor arena inside BillyBob’s to watch the bull riding. I sit them in the stands, hand them a long-neck Bud, and just say “Eight Seconds. All they have to do is stay on the bull for eight seconds.” Then they see a bull in action and their eyes get REAL big.

I also drive real fast, like a Texan should. We have places to go and it’s a big state pardner.

Thoroughbred = Live Nude Horses (Happy Hour from 5 until 10)

When I worked for a Defense firm there in Dallas I used to take the Euro-customers target-shooting out in the Texas Grasslands outside Decatur – not too far from you, Lokki.

That we could just wander out into the wild, unsupervised, load up my arsenal (purchased without any permits or special licenses) and blast away at milk jugs, soda cans, pumpkins, tomatoes, and (occasionally) skeets and paper targets just stunned them. They loved it. Many of them set their entire US trip itineraries and meeting agendas around the scheduled “McGoo Shoot”. I was even allowed to expense ammo (although it was not called that on the form).

Allen, you could make a great impression by having a plug of tobacky in yer cheek and spattering animals and small critters with it, like Clint Eastwood in “The Outlaw Josey Wales”.

Also Allen, your vocabulary, here anyway, is too polysyllabic and laden with that subject-predicate stuff. You need to strip it down for the tourists. Not much more than a periodic “Yep.”

Laconic, that’s what you’re going for. But for God’s sake don’t actually use that word!

BTW, it’s Monday morning, weaz, get your sad sorry butt in motion!

What S-S and LK said, Allen.

How did you know I had a sorry butt this morning, Steve?

I gots the gut rot. I called in sick. I hardly ever call in sick, so what the hell…

Weasel –
Is this illness a result of your hike in the woods?
Did you stand up the whole time you were in the woods?
Did you sit down anywhere in the woods?
Would you even consider sitting down there?
Is it some sort of philosophy of yours to sit or not sit in the woods?
Would your answer be true for all weasels?

I guess what I’m asking is: Does a Weasel sit in the woods?

<squints at Lokki with evident menace>

Great suggestions, thanks. I hate the gut rot, I had a bout with Giardia once. That was a fun trip.

Yeah, what Steamboat said.

Ok, Lokki, THAT was good.

Its Monday… back to work!

What everyone except Weasel said.

Sorry you’re sick, Stoaty. Probably too little booze Saturday while hiking. I bet you didn’t even take a canteen of Valu-Rite with you for emergency use.

Is there evidence that if she HAD been drinking enough clear liquids (rum, gin, triple-sec) that she might have killed whatever parasite is giving her a case of whup-ass?

*adjusts mother hat*

Sometimes dehydration will give one the ‘runs’. Hike..yep, hot..yep, dehydrated…yep, got home and did some booze..yep, but did you did plenty of other fluids…don’t know.

Push the fluids/broth/electrolytes weasel regardless what kind of gut rot you caught.

I’m not sure what it is. It *feels* like I ate something that disagreed with me, but this actually started on Friday. I ducked out early on account of my breakfast seemed uncommonly impatient to get going.

I don’t actually feel ill or anything, so that’s okay. I could’ve gone in. But, like I said, I hardly ever take sick time. Which seems such a waste.

Weaz always puts ice in her drink, so “other fluids” is obviously a red herring. Or a blue mooning, or whatever.

I’m beginning to wonder if the Lady Who Sits In The Next Cubicle might have something to do with this. After all, they both work for the same company.

Ah-ha! it started Friday! At work! I knew it!

Well, she was out several days last week. But she takes sick time allllllll the time, so that’s not significant.

Ew. I just got a spam comment from somebody named “extremely long nipples” — and while I sympathize with her and all, this really isn’t the blog for that.

You know, some of the things described in comment spam, I don’t even know what they are.

You know, I feel overlooked or something. All I ever get are the same old spam for insurance and on line gambling. Not a single pr0n. Closest I’ve gotten is a spam for Levitra. Apparently the spambots think me and my readers are a bunch of old farts that can’t get it up.

Out several days last week. Sick all the time. Sits right next to you. Hmmmm. Nope, I’m obviously barking up the wrong tree.

Why is it that women’s breasts stretch out longer with age, but mens winkys don’t? No one ever says, “He’s getting a little long in the Tool.”

Howzabout an example? My curiousity was just piqued, I know I’ll pay for it later but hey, live large is the way to go.

Oh, geez, I just biffed it all. There’s one particular series that drives me insane: it starts off “stand by for tons of porn!” and then there’s a gigantic list of topics. It goes one for pages. Which, if you actually go through your spams to make sure nobody good was in there (sorry, porknbean!) is extremely off-pissing. Especially if you get more than one of that one.

I got a couple of it this time around. The only item on the list that caught my eye this time was “vaginal infection” — ‘K? Does that go a little way toward satisfying your curiosity?

Oh… I knew there would be a price, I just didn’t figure that one. Yep, fully satisfied, really don’t need more info.

Well, however you got the squirts, dehydration’s a potential problem now so keep forcing fluids.

I am about to ditch my hotmail account because the only difference between my inbox and the junk folder is there are slightly more messages from people I know in the inbox. Very slightly. There’s roughly the same amount of spam in each one, and since I keep having to check the junk folder anyway I wonder what’s the difference.

What actually makes me want to shoot somebody in the head are the spams promising women and barnyard animals. How many people really want to see that? Doesn’t it seem reasonable that all five hundred or so have formed their own barnyard sex mailing lists? Why the hell are people shotgunning this crap out to everybody? I’m assuming they actually are barnyard sex, I never open them, maybe they’re really unsolicited stock tips.

S-S – I use Yahoo for my “public/blog” email address. It’s pretty good about separating out the junk. And its free and easy to get; takes about 1 minute last time I checked. And they don’t mess with you at your “real” address, like send you junk.

Women and barnyard animals, huh? No Scandi or hobo snuff flicks? Too bad…

I have a Hotmail and a Yahoo account. Actually, two Yahoo accounts. One Yahoo account gets almost no spam (this one); my other Yahoo account is constantly hit by spam. In fact, the first email I got at that account was spam. On the first day.
I get lots of spam at Hotmail, but I use it as my business email. I set it to the highest security level, and have little problem with spam–if a new contact sends me something, I mark it as not spam, and flush the rest of the folder.

but men’s winkys don’t

Because there isn’t much to them to begin with. No ‘manbones’ to weigh them down, I guess. On the other hand, I have heard older guys joking about their sacks hitting water when they sit on the pot.

I wasn’t gonna mention that, PnB.