Sleep Sleep Sleep. Ugh. What I wouldn't give for some. Dr. Girvin and her assistant Karen Wilson in for the weekend. Who do you like in the Belmont now?
I like the 9, Paynter. Baffert horse, fast and lightly raced. Crowd figures to like derby horses, union rags and Dullahan. Not sure i will be able to get money down, but 9 will/would figure in anything I do. Good Luck
Scratched due to tendonitis or other? Hmm. What do you think? I guess we'll know here in a couple hours. I wil be thinking about you. I have to go with Street Life, have ot pick something doifferent than you though if money were involved probably listen to you, what do I know about horse racing anyway? ENjoy the company. You are over a quarter there, man how time flies though probably not if you are up all the time. Get some rest, get strong, toughen up and hang in there kid!
Alright, JAZ. You are a skeptic. I won't even ask how you feel about the after life or whether the Rick is any good at chess. I'm fresh out of funny these days, but here's another TRUE story. My Dad is a salesman, thus always travels with mouthwash in his car. Not magic mouthwash, mind you--though what do I know?--but it seemed the normal breath freshening type. Fast forward. Every year, we would make the trek to Ottawa to visit his sister and kids. Long ride. Dennis was fucking always on my side and one time my father hit his limit and threw Dennis out the side of the car into the snow. As I recall, he was wearing one sock. The other sock was on MY SIDE. And then my Dad began to drive away. I craned my neck and thought, wow, it's really happening. We are really leaving him, on the side of the road, in Canada. But of course we went back. Things got quiet after that. But that's not the story. So long about 30 or so miles outside Ottawa--if you've ever driven in Canada, you know: It's nothing but farm and highway, and you can go about 120 no problem. So my Dad takes out the mouth wash. Rinse gargle repeat. Rolls down the window. (120, mind you). Leans his head out the window to spit, and the wind rips his glasses off his face. Mother *** ass &&& son of a &&&&. We pull over. My father jogs back down the highway, searching for his glasses. After merely a moment, a weird nervous giggle from my mom. Then we're all laughing, laughing to beat the band, to fill the car, fit to burst. But now he's coming back up the fucking highway, no glasses. In between hiccups, my mom: "Look, it's OK to laugh now, but when he gets back in the car--" It was a good time, in Ottawa. We ate goose liver pate and my cousin, Mary Ellen, dressed me up as madonna. I have the pictures to prove it, you heartless bastard. Oh, and for the record, I saw neighbor John today. No turtle, though. Momma Turtle has moved on.
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Wow, Rick has really improved his chess game
ReplyDeleteI like the 9, Paynter. Baffert horse, fast and lightly raced. Crowd figures to like derby horses, union rags and Dullahan. Not sure i will be able to get money down, but 9 will/would figure in anything I do. Good Luck
ReplyDeleteScratched due to tendonitis or other? Hmm. What do you think? I guess we'll know here in a couple hours. I wil be thinking about you. I have to go with Street Life, have ot pick something doifferent than you though if money were involved probably listen to you, what do I know about horse racing anyway? ENjoy the company. You are over a quarter there, man how time flies though probably not if you are up all the time. Get some rest, get strong, toughen up and hang in there kid!
ReplyDeleteI went down to the bridge built over he waterway here. Had to look at the new graffiti. Sarah, I saw a turtle swimming in the water. Still skeptical.
ReplyDeleteAlright, JAZ. You are a skeptic. I won't even ask how you feel about the after life or whether the Rick is any good at chess. I'm fresh out of funny these days, but here's another TRUE story. My Dad is a salesman, thus always travels with mouthwash in his car. Not magic mouthwash, mind you--though what do I know?--but it seemed the normal breath freshening type. Fast forward. Every year, we would make the trek to Ottawa to visit his sister and kids. Long ride. Dennis was fucking always on my side and one time my father hit his limit and threw Dennis out the side of the car into the snow. As I recall, he was wearing one sock. The other sock was on MY SIDE. And then my Dad began to drive away. I craned my neck and thought, wow, it's really happening. We are really leaving him, on the side of the road, in Canada. But of course we went back. Things got quiet after that. But that's not the story. So long about 30 or so miles outside Ottawa--if you've ever driven in Canada, you know: It's nothing but farm and highway, and you can go about 120 no problem. So my Dad takes out the mouth wash. Rinse gargle repeat. Rolls down the window. (120, mind you). Leans his head out the window to spit, and the wind rips his glasses off his face. Mother *** ass &&& son of a &&&&. We pull over. My father jogs back down the highway, searching for his glasses. After merely a moment, a weird nervous giggle from my mom. Then we're all laughing, laughing to beat the band, to fill the car, fit to burst. But now he's coming back up the fucking highway, no glasses. In between hiccups, my mom: "Look, it's OK to laugh now, but when he gets back in the car--"
DeleteIt was a good time, in Ottawa. We ate goose liver pate and my cousin, Mary Ellen, dressed me up as madonna. I have the pictures to prove it, you heartless bastard. Oh, and for the record, I saw neighbor John today. No turtle, though. Momma Turtle has moved on.