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Originally posted by Kitty:

I had a pet rat once. *levels two Colt Walkers at dalem's liver.*

Kitty

Hm. But you're better now, right Sky Kitty? No more rats? And Persephone's sister is no doubt just keeping them for their safety, not really keeping them as pets.

Nice pair you're a-pointin' at me, I must say.

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Originally posted by Persephone:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

... I'm the most devastingly.....

Joe

And of course you left out....the worst speller in the MBT!

Persephone </font>

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Originally posted by dalem:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Kitty:

I had a pet rat once. *levels two Colt Walkers at dalem's liver.*

Kitty

Hm. But you're better now, right Sky Kitty? No more rats? And Persephone's sister is no doubt just keeping them for their safety, not really keeping them as pets.

Nice pair you're a-pointin' at me, I must say. </font>

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Well thats just lovely!......16 months out wandering the steppes, I pop back into the 'pool fer a coffee and a chit chat and you lumber me with the mask of shame?!?!?

Tish and Posh woman!....I take my leave once more!

Harrumph!!!

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Originally posted by Kitty:

We'll do anything if you stay! =(

..but only if it involves welcoming our Stukes with a few blows to the back of the head with a piece of 4x2 (with a rusty nail firmly imbedded).

KING (NOTICE THE TITLE, STUKES) MACE

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Originally posted by Mace:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Kitty:

We'll do anything if you stay! =(

..but only if it involves welcoming our Stukes with a few blows to the back of the head with a piece of 4x2 (with a rusty nail firmly imbedded).

KING (NOTICE THE TITLE, STUKES) MACE </font>

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AAAAaaaaannnnd I'm Back!!!!

Orlando was the little snot-nosed urchin-infested hell-hole that it's justly famous for. 90F and abundant sunshine every day makes for a very yellow hotel swimming pool come four o'clock. At which time the breeders of these mewling brats can no longer stand being herded in human cattle lines on boiling concrete for the dubious pleasure of hearing "It's A Small World After All" in a leaky rowboat on rails.

Or stand their horrid off-spring any longer.

So they'd bring them all back to the hotel and ruin my day.

After a week of this, I gave in and called Boggs. He graciously offered to buy lunch so we drove on down. Went to a nice little place on the shores of the local alligator refuge and had good meal of oysters on the half-shell and stuffed shrimp. With beer. Then it was back to Casa Boggs to sit by his pool. Which didn't have any kids in it but was still yellow for some reason...

And listen to him play guitar and sing. Strangely, this part wasn't mentioned on the phone. At all. I've never heard "It's A Small World After All" played so poorly, but at least I saved $100 in theme park tickets (pic taken of this for Persephone). Must be a Florida thing. Consider taking lessons in your next life or going to Six Flags instead, OK Sparky? This situation obviously called for more beer. Btw, did you guys know that Herr Boggs works at a brewery?

THAT DOESN'T MAKE BEER?!?!?!?

Hah, you're outted now Boggs!!! Richly deserved scorn shall be heaped upon your head for making sody-pop and health drinks instead of the ambrosia of the gods. Sheesh, get a real job...

Luckily, there was a twelve pack of ambrosia in his frig, which Shary and I polished off while making approving noises as guitar strings twanged and squealed. Or maybe that was just Boggs twanging and squealing. Who knows, it was hot and I was drinking fast at this point.

Fortunately, Boggs had to run off to a graduation party soon, and the beer was running out anyway, so it was time to depart.

Seriously, it was fun Boggs. A pleasure to meet you and you'll have to come up to Minnesota so I can return the hospitality. We'll take you out on the lake and do the bar crawl with the rest of the Pool denizens. Currently, it's cold enough out to see your breath so I know you'd enjoy it.

Bring a swimsuit, mwuhahahaha....

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Lars

You malevolent, misguided, malingering minnesotian. Had you been sober during your visit you might have remembered certain details that seem to have skipped your mind.

To wit:

At the lakeside chalet where we dined, the Saintly Shary ordered gator meat, while our dear old Lars orders shrimp. Symbolic, yes? Plus and I expect someone to notify his mother about this, Lars ate NONE of the goodly portion of veggies that came with his shrimp.

Back at the Boggs Villa, after checking the beer consumption rates, I realized the time had come to put the brakes on the beer blitz by resorting to the time honored tradition of pulling out the old guitar and belting out sweet ballads about how whiskey is the devil. With normal people I usually only have to do one tune, before the mad rush for the exits occurs. I had not counted on the staying power of Minnesota Miscreants and was forced to play all three songs that I can play. Even that didn't work.

Fortunately, the beer finally ran out, and that seemed to do the trick as barely were the words "No more beer in the fridge" uttered than the visitors were out the door and enroute back to their motel.

It took three 39 gallon trash bags to haul out the empty beer bottles. Sheesh!

Seriously, Shary is waaaay too good for you Lars. Nevertheless, it was a most excellent visit, and my wife was very pleased to find nothing broken upon her return. (She had the very good sense to volunteer to help her brother and his wife set up for their kids graduation party, which was later that evening, and sadly was not there to comfort Shary).

PS-Lady Persephone, the picture Lars speaks of, is a fake. It was contrived using a borrowed mannequin, which I am sure Lars will try and pretend was moi. Don't be fooled.

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