Hey Southern Belle, I'm Blaming YOU For This .....
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The .22 is the weapon of choice for vermin-popping here in Texas. If you don't trust your aim, there is a round called "snake-shot" (or ratshot) that turns your deuce-deuce into a baby shotgun. I shot a snake with a Colt Walker .44 Black Powder revolver once. Needless to say I wasn't making a hatband out of that one.
Only my "sticky outy bits" Maduro, my god given nature's "shelf" saved the snow white cliffs of Dover below 
Oh Cyndi, don't you be talking to me about dreams - I never dream and, if I do I can never remember them but last night's was a freakin' doozy!!!
I only had 3.5 hours kip & during that time I managed to dream a dream that I'm quite sure spanned the entire time - I competed in a 2 day & night running endurance race with 1,000's of women only competitors, running from Greece to Australia with the odd plane ride here and there to hop continents (bizarre, because this sheila drives her car to the letter box rather than walk 5 yards i.e. she DOES NOT, WILL NOT walk, run or do anything that may give rise to puffing thereby straining delicate lungs).
So, I enter the race with a close girlfriend acting as my "strapper" (umm the person you take to a horse show who runs around looking after the horse, hauling buckets of water, getting your food & wine etc, whilst you, the star of the show, socialise and enjoy). Well, I'll be damned ... I ended up getting 2nd place out of the 1,000's of pro runners. I would've got 1st, but the bitch who did terrorised another competitor physically when she fell over and despite there being dozens of witnesses the judges wouldn't have it, so I unfairly stayed in 2nd, which was still the biggest miracle the world had ever seen. Before the presentation ceremony they tried to hit me up for an extra $100 towards the cost of the silver medal - I told them to "go to hell, that's my pipe money!" and they were all aghast, horrified and downright rude that I smoked.
I immediately rang my family and friends to tell them of my win, especially the Aussie woman GN who won Gold at LA Olympics in '76 in the Heptathlon event - she wouldn't believe me, knowing the confirmed couch potato that I am, and it wasn't until she spoke to the Steward whom she knew from International Comps that she finally did believe me (she's a really good mate of mine in real life and she was so flabbergasted she she had to hop on a plane to come celebrate with me and catch u with all her oher international buddies that her little sedentary friend had whooped the asses off without any training and, of course, to try to convince me to join the Olympic Team she's choosing.)
As the celebrations went on into the night, my bruises grew and grew until I could barely move, and it was only then that everyone realised I was a true rank novice and had never run a metre since my teens - I was black/blue all over and was stretchered everywhere amongst the crowd.
Fast forward to me waking up, headed straight to the coffee machine in my sleepy haze and could barely move, literally, it was a real struggle to get there and back - wtf, I must've been clenching every muscle during my dream 'coz I was a mess - will try it again for my 2nd cup & 3rd cigar in a minute, but it's actually very scary ... I can't even move my bullwhip arm which is propped on a pillow to type!
So my dream - it all comes down to running away from you, a madwoman in possession of a 22 after a cotton mouth, and my as yet unlocated spidy that I decided I needed to get away from, so what better way than to run for 40 hours lmfao. I gotta lay off those little blue pills, p'raps the yellow ones will work better!
P.S. Sorry, that turned out to be War & Peace - the perils of thinking & typing 100wpm.
Oh Cyndi, don't you be talking to me about dreams - I never dream and, if I do I can never remember them but last night's was a freakin' doozy!!!
I only had 3.5 hours kip & during that time I managed to dream a dream that I'm quite sure spanned the entire time - I competed in a 2 day & night running endurance race with 1,000's of women only competitors, running from Greece to Australia with the odd plane ride here and there to hop continents (bizarre, because this sheila drives her car to the letter box rather than walk 5 yards i.e. she DOES NOT, WILL NOT walk, run or do anything that may give rise to puffing thereby straining delicate lungs).
So, I enter the race with a close girlfriend acting as my "strapper" (umm the person you take to a horse show who runs around looking after the horse, hauling buckets of water, getting your food & wine etc, whilst you, the star of the show, socialise and enjoy). Well, I'll be damned ... I ended up getting 2nd place out of the 1,000's of pro runners. I would've got 1st, but the bitch who did terrorised another competitor physically when she fell over and despite there being dozens of witnesses the judges wouldn't have it, so I unfairly stayed in 2nd, which was still the biggest miracle the world had ever seen. Before the presentation ceremony they tried to hit me up for an extra $100 towards the cost of the silver medal - I told them to "go to hell, that's my pipe money!" and they were all aghast, horrified and downright rude that I smoked.
I immediately rang my family and friends to tell them of my win, especially the Aussie woman GN who won Gold at LA Olympics in '76 in the Heptathlon event - she wouldn't believe me, knowing the confirmed couch potato that I am, and it wasn't until she spoke to the Steward whom she knew from International Comps that she finally did believe me (she's a really good mate of mine in real life and she was so flabbergasted she she had to hop on a plane to come celebrate with me and catch u with all her oher international buddies that her little sedentary friend had whooped the asses off without any training and, of course, to try to convince me to join the Olympic Team she's choosing.)
As the celebrations went on into the night, my bruises grew and grew until I could barely move, and it was only then that everyone realised I was a true rank novice and had never run a metre since my teens - I was black/blue all over and was stretchered everywhere amongst the crowd.
Fast forward to me waking up, headed straight to the coffee machine in my sleepy haze and could barely move, literally, it was a real struggle to get there and back - wtf, I must've been clenching every muscle during my dream 'coz I was a mess - will try it again for my 2nd cup & 3rd cigar in a minute, but it's actually very scary ... I can't even move my bullwhip arm which is propped on a pillow to type!
So my dream - it all comes down to running away from you, a madwoman in possession of a 22 after a cotton mouth, and my as yet unlocated spidy that I decided I needed to get away from, so what better way than to run for 40 hours lmfao. I gotta lay off those little blue pills, p'raps the yellow ones will work better!
P.S. Sorry, that turned out to be War & Peace - the perils of thinking & typing 100wpm.
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