It's Low Tide in the Thinking Dept.
Thought for the Day:
Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. Mark Twain
(No comment necessary)
The worm crawls in…
Well dear readers, it’s the long awaited end of the week. A time when our co-workers pull their collective heads out of their asses in order to dump the shit they didn’t want to do all week on your lap (with a Monday morning deadline), so they can sneak out of work early to (take mom to a doctors appointment, get their car fixed, pick-up a sick kid, get their dialysis, or any one of a number of lame ass lies), used to fuck you over and cheat the man out of a few hours of work.
My flower has to work until 8 or 9 tonight and then back in to work Saturday morning until about 6pm, so I am pretty much on my own today and a large part of Saturday. Idle hands are the devils play ground, never more so, dear reader, than in the case of yours truly. I am sure I will find something of note in which to get myself into trouble with, such to my regret is my nature.
Tomorrow night we are invited to a local well known libertarian’s home for a dual birthday celebration within their self described family unit. I am looking forward to it; good company, good food and good drinks, plus I get to argue politics with people who are not right-wing-nuts for a change.
My No-Love-Thursday:
I worked, so it was no-love. I got home and my loving and pretty wife had made me a late supper of pork chops and pork chop gravy with green beans and buttermilk biscuits. The lady really knows how to do the JQP comfort foods. After our evening meal enjoyed in front of the TV vs. our normal formal dinning experience, we watched the Discovery-Times channel and caught up on each others life.
After our chat, I helped change her dressings from her fall on Monday and looked at her bruises. They are something to see, she has four bruises the size (no-shit) of dinner plates. I told her she could get a job nude modeling at some S&M website. To which she replied that “don’t all women look good with a few loving bruises and a strip of duct-tape over their mouths”. What I ask, is one to say to that. I think she learned her lesson about carrying cocktails in chilled glasses up and down the stairs while under the influence.
I myself am glad I didn’t come home from my time on the road to find her dead and the hounds very fat.
Your Drinks for the Weekend:
The Lumber Jack
(She had hands like a logger and a mouth like a trout, see if anyone gets that line)
Drink Ingredients:
0.5 oz. Southern Comfort
0.5 oz. Applejack (apple schnapps, if you don’t have Apple Jack)
0.5 oz. Simple Syrup
1 oz. Gin
Instruction:
Shake all ingredients with cracked ice and pour into a chilled cocktail glass.
The Shock Collar
(almost as good as a Goth girl in sweaty leather panties)
Drink Ingredients:
2 dashes Bitters
4 tsp. Pernod
2 oz. Scotch
2 oz. Cheap Vodka
Instruction:
In a mixing glass half-filled with ice cubes, combine all of the ingredients. Stir well. Strain into a cocktail glass.
Today’s Bill:
(I always loved the last line)
SONNET 94
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
Quote of the Day:
I am a Conservative to preserve all that is good in our constitution, a Radical to remove all that is bad. I seek to preserve property and to respect order, and I equally decry the appeal to the passions of the many or the prejudices of the few.
Benjamin Disraeli, campaign speech at High Wycombe, England, November 27, 1832
I remain, the Paul Bunyan of free love:
JQP esq.
Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. Mark Twain
(No comment necessary)
The worm crawls in…
Well dear readers, it’s the long awaited end of the week. A time when our co-workers pull their collective heads out of their asses in order to dump the shit they didn’t want to do all week on your lap (with a Monday morning deadline), so they can sneak out of work early to (take mom to a doctors appointment, get their car fixed, pick-up a sick kid, get their dialysis, or any one of a number of lame ass lies), used to fuck you over and cheat the man out of a few hours of work.
My flower has to work until 8 or 9 tonight and then back in to work Saturday morning until about 6pm, so I am pretty much on my own today and a large part of Saturday. Idle hands are the devils play ground, never more so, dear reader, than in the case of yours truly. I am sure I will find something of note in which to get myself into trouble with, such to my regret is my nature.
Tomorrow night we are invited to a local well known libertarian’s home for a dual birthday celebration within their self described family unit. I am looking forward to it; good company, good food and good drinks, plus I get to argue politics with people who are not right-wing-nuts for a change.
My No-Love-Thursday:
I worked, so it was no-love. I got home and my loving and pretty wife had made me a late supper of pork chops and pork chop gravy with green beans and buttermilk biscuits. The lady really knows how to do the JQP comfort foods. After our evening meal enjoyed in front of the TV vs. our normal formal dinning experience, we watched the Discovery-Times channel and caught up on each others life.
After our chat, I helped change her dressings from her fall on Monday and looked at her bruises. They are something to see, she has four bruises the size (no-shit) of dinner plates. I told her she could get a job nude modeling at some S&M website. To which she replied that “don’t all women look good with a few loving bruises and a strip of duct-tape over their mouths”. What I ask, is one to say to that. I think she learned her lesson about carrying cocktails in chilled glasses up and down the stairs while under the influence.
I myself am glad I didn’t come home from my time on the road to find her dead and the hounds very fat.
Your Drinks for the Weekend:
The Lumber Jack
(She had hands like a logger and a mouth like a trout, see if anyone gets that line)
Drink Ingredients:
0.5 oz. Southern Comfort
0.5 oz. Applejack (apple schnapps, if you don’t have Apple Jack)
0.5 oz. Simple Syrup
1 oz. Gin
Instruction:
Shake all ingredients with cracked ice and pour into a chilled cocktail glass.
The Shock Collar
(almost as good as a Goth girl in sweaty leather panties)
Drink Ingredients:
2 dashes Bitters
4 tsp. Pernod
2 oz. Scotch
2 oz. Cheap Vodka
Instruction:
In a mixing glass half-filled with ice cubes, combine all of the ingredients. Stir well. Strain into a cocktail glass.
Today’s Bill:
(I always loved the last line)
SONNET 94
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
Quote of the Day:
I am a Conservative to preserve all that is good in our constitution, a Radical to remove all that is bad. I seek to preserve property and to respect order, and I equally decry the appeal to the passions of the many or the prejudices of the few.
Benjamin Disraeli, campaign speech at High Wycombe, England, November 27, 1832
I remain, the Paul Bunyan of free love:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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