October 03, 2005
I made it to the Blog-meet in Helen last weekend because Recondo 32 and Georgia gave me a ride in the Snake. (That car ain't built for three people.) I can't say that I was the most enthuiastic participant there, because I spent a lot of time just lying in my bed.
The highlights of the trip for me were meeting a few bloggers I hadn't met before and seeing some old friends. I also performed some acts of contrition that I owed a few people. I'm gonna have to rearrange my blogroll now.
Plus, because I was feling so shitty, I got a 90-minute, full-body massage from a woman named Rebecca for a mere $100, right in my room. I think half the people at the meet saw me nekkid on that massage table, (my room ALWAYS ends up being Party Central) but I didn't give a damn. Modesty is NOT one of my virtues.
Hell--- I don't have that many virtues to begin with.
I also had my picture taken with THE MULLET MAN, whose identity I will not reveal right now... but DAMN, he was impressive. In that costume, he reminded me from something out of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Georgia is supposed to send me that picture, and when she does, I'll post it.
The Chatham Artillery Punch was a big hit, as usual, but the people who tried it at Jekyll Island were more careful with it this time. Nobody ended up in a puddle of puke on the floor. That stuff tastes like kool-ade, but it packs a BIG wallop.
I arrived back home to find my mailbox broken and laying on the ground. I need to fix that today, if I am able. Or maybe not. I can't get any bills if I don't have a mailbox, and I'm not certain that I'm physically able to do what needs to be done to fix it.
I'm in bad shape. I can barely walk anymore.
But I had a good time and I'm glad that I went. I just wish that I felt better. The best I could do was stand on the balcony and watch the half-rubber and bullwhip activities. That looked like a lot of fun, but that bullwhip popped a lot of people who didn't know what they were doing with it. That thing will jump back and BITE you.
I woke up at 3:00 AM this morning with my usual episode of gags and pukes, but it was mostly dry-heaves because I don't remember eating ANYTHING while I was in Helen. I took some anti-nausea medicine and I'm feeling better now. People kept trying to feed me all weekend, but I simply have NO appetite anymore.
I'll post a list of the people who were there later today, if I don't fricking die first. Them's a good bunch.
I kind of figured it was a trip to Helen even if there was a rumor about a weekend at a gay bikers bar.
What the hell, Rob. I ain't to crazy about the idea of you croaking but it is your life, man. Can't nobody make the decision for your life but you and I respect what ever decisions you make. I don't know what I would do if I was in your shoes and anybody that says that they do is kidding themselves. Take care.
.. you know, that wasn't a bad looking blonde for a hundred bucks... you could have done a lot worse, killer...
Well I'm not buying into Rob's pity party. Yeah it's your choice, but sorry I can't condone a bad one, especially one that will unncessarily leave a son without his Dad. If you really care about your kid you'll take care of yourself. Let me repeat my comment on the next post. GO SEE A F*CKING DOCTOR.
Rob, You can see my email...I work at Memorial. Do you want me to find a referral for you??? It's time to take this seriously. Email me, please...
dear rob, thanks for being there for thise of us who couldn't. thanks for being you, I've included this that I stole and adulterated for your benefit take care of yourself.
Well it has been some time since I last wrote you. Things are back to normal, yes, I found them, yes, they seem to be working well, and no she wasnít pleased with her new lawnmower. The weather is starting to close down, the trees have colored up and lost their leaves and the nights have a wonderful chill to them, it is just the kind of weather when you would like to curl up next to the wood stove and nap the evening away, and I would if it wasnít for my allergy to plaster dust... plaster? you ask, well Iím sort of wrapped up in it at this point in time. Would you like to know why? We found a woodstove at a reasonable price, however there was just one problem.... we donít have a chimney, but of course that is no problem for a handyman such as I. So we embarked upon another project. We assembled the tools and ordered a load of stone and mortar and prepared to erect our chimney . We located our chimney ,actually relocated our chimney where it wouldnít block the view from the windows or access to doors and commenced to dig a footer pour the pad and started up with the chimney, the task took on a new perspective as the chimney got further from the ground, being short of stature as well as money we had to make do piling together ladders and other extensions until we got to the roof. On the final day of construction , I was as usual, working alone. This day, however I had no one giving me constructive ďadviseĒ . When I completed my work , I discovered that I had about five hundred pounds of stone left over . Rather than carry the stone down by hand, which is how it got up there, I decided to lower the stone down in a barrel by using a pulley which I attached to my new chimney.
Securing the rope at ground level to the bumper of my truck , I went back up on the roof and swung the barrel out and loaded the stone into it. Then I went back down and to the ground and untied the rope holding the rope tightly to insure a slow descent of the five hundred pounds of stone. At this point it is important to remember that I scored the highest grade on my physics final exam of anyone in our class and, the exertion of this project, in spite of my wifeís fine cooking, had trimmed my spare frame to slightly less than my normal 185 pounds. However, due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate up the side of the chimney, In the vicinity of the second floor, I met the barrel coming down. This explains the fractured skull and broken collar bone.
Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley. Fortunately , by this time , I had the presence of mind to hold tightly to the rope in spite of my pain. At approximately this time, however , the barrel of stone hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel, devoid of the weight of the stone, the barrel now weighed less than fifty pounds. Need I remind you of my weight? As you might imagine, I began a descent down the chimney. In the vicinity of the second floor, once again I met the barrel, this time coming up, This accounts for the two broken ankles and lacerations of my legs and lower body. The encounter with the barrel, however, slowed my descent enough to lessen my injuries so that when I fell into the pile of stones , only three vertebrae were cracked. I am sorry to report, however that as I lay there on the stone in pain, unable to stand and gazing at the empty barrel two stories above me, I again lost my presence of mind and let go of the rope.
Mother says that we can get rid of most of these plaster casts by this weekend, we need to cut firewood.
Rob, get to the doctor NOW!! Think about your son and daughter please and all of us who love you out in cyberspace. The BC may hold the reins on your son but time is on your side. You could live another 20-30 years spenting most of those with your adult son but not if you don't take care of yourself. A long life will be the best revenge against that bitch.
I'm glad you went and performed your acts of contrition. I just wish you would take care of yourself.
Please don't make me rob a bank to come down there and take care of you!
Dittos: Maeve, Libby, Chablis, Heather, Dana.....uhm....gee......it seems all them evil wimmens be worried bout yuz......
Gee, THIS IS GETTING OLD...OLD MAN.
Sam, I know you're reading this stuff now that you've shut down your homestead site....
For the love of God would you and Stacey go take a baseball bat...know the old gizzer out and take him to ER saying he was complaining bout HIS G>D> GUT before he
"mysteriously" feel to the FILTHY KITCHEN FLOOR? Please don't let him pull this crap on you and on Quinton. Make the Old Fart face up to the music.
You have no idea how many people are getting the "rippples of his pain" and the vibrations are getting real heavy.
Thanks, Sam. Miss you.
All the best, Maggie.
YEAH ACID...I USED YOUR BANDWIDTH TO CONVERSE WITH ANOTHER READER.
It's a first so: Bite me!
Ooops, typos...Sorry, Sam...
KNOCK THE OLD GIZZER OUR.
He don't feel...he FELL to the kitchen floor.
Crap my fingers work slower than my brain...should have previewed...but since I am pissing HIM off might as well really burn the BANDWIDTH..
( That was written with a French accent....so y'all be sure to read "Robaaair" with a sneer!).
I think you have hepatitus.