The last thing I want to do is turn the blog into a diatribe against things I don't like or to create a litany of pet peeves, but it's a lot easier to write about things that annoy us than it is to write about things that galvanize or inspire us...
So what the heck is up with this place??
If you've driven south on 95 past Northlake, you've watched this monstrosity sprout up overnight. Which is ironic because the closest thing to a mountain I've seen in Florida is made of silicone and can be found on South Beach. Let's see...the last time I was in the market for a traffic-cone orange, down, duck-hunting vest was...ummm....never! The moss-suit I spied in Cabela's in Post Falls, Idaho, however, is secretly on my birthday wish list...if I wanted to dress up like the Swamp Thing for Halloween. Maybe I'm just secretly afraid of people that shop for compound bows. In Florida (Though I did spot a herd of javelina on the side of 95 as we were coming back from Smellbourne. At first, I thought they were the remains of an 18-wheelers blow-out, but no...They were pigs! Big black hairy pigs! But the last thing that occured to me at the time was shooting one of them. I like bacon and all, but what was I going to do with a big fat hairy dead pig? Throw it in the back of my dad's BMW 750Li?), because it reminds me of Brian Winnie, this kid I went to 8th grade with at Jupiter Middle that was expelled from school for putting an arrow through the shoulder of one of our classmates with a compound bow as she was waiting for the school bus.
Like does this look like someone that lives in Palm Beach Gardens...
Hmm...now that I think about it, I did see him coming out of Downtown at the Gardens on the FOX ("Keep-America-Scared") 11:00 news.I don't own a gun. Maybe I should. Now that I have a family to protect. I guess I can bring it to work now? The only person I really interact with at my office is the Zephyr Hills guy that drops off the bottles for our water cooler. I really only see him once a week and I don't have any beef with the guy.
But sometimes I wonder what would happen if someone broke into our house and I needed to defend my family. There's this wooden stick that screws into the end of the paint roller I used to paint Sam's room. It's still in there. (Which doesn't seem like such a good idea now that he can grasp objects. I see that wooden pole meeting my shins in the near future.) I guess I could use that. If we were robbed by a pinata.
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