Paul Thorn Rock-Out Marathon hour 1295, and packing is nearly finished. Just the last minute sweeps of the rooms, pack up the computer, and stow the bed linens in the morning.
You'll have to use your imagination kiddies, the camera, card reader, and usb cables are all packed. Besides, one empty house looks pretty much like another. Right now an empty house looks pretty good.
Avast me hearties! Tomorrow we sail fer home!
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Paul Thorn rock-out marathon hour 954.
There are few immutable rules in life. One of them is: If it stings Tom, it dies.
There was (note the clever foreshadowing provided by the past tense) a wasp nest in the car port last week. I didn't think much of it; live and let live. Until I was trying to get some boxes out of the back seat of the car, and a wasp flies down and bounces off my UNC hat...
"That was kinda wierd. (Gears slowly grinding into motion) They must not like me being so close to their nest in a bright orange Auburn TShirt. (Gears emmiting horrible screeching noise as they gain momentum) I'd better get these boxes out of the car (Gears spinning freely, finally up to speed) before, OWW!! That *%^&ing little son of a *%$ing &%^$ *#&^%#$er stung me!" And it hurt too. Not as bad as some stories would have you believe, but it's by no means pleasant.
It's also interesting to note that while it failed to penetrate my UNC hat, it had no trouble piercing my flesh through an Auburn shirt.
So I popped out to the grocery store that night and invested in a can of pressurized and highly potent neurotoxins, developed by member of my species for the express purpose of eleminating members of his species. Heh. I got your food chain right here pal. Long story short: Who would you put your money on, the species that builds their houses out of paper, or the one that builds their houses out of concrete and steel?
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Paul Thorn rock-out marathon hour 877.
I have lots of things to write about when I'm too busy to write about them. Thus, no entries for five weeks.
The beach was awesome, as usual. Communed with four of the five nephews. Hung out with siblings. Told bad jokes with my Dad. Took a stack of books that I didn't get to open. Got some kites in the air. Consumed much tasty comestabilia*. Ate NC Barbeque three times. Had taffy and orange sherbert on a porch swing with the spousal unit. Generally decompressed at a time when decompression was called for.
*You may know this as food. Hmm, maybe "comestabilia" should be food that you take home as a souvenir, like a doggie bag?