The Consolidated Entries 2004


Monday, 19 April 2004 it is already IHOS weather out there -- at least for the time being. As such, I thought I'd get a jump on the year and at least bring you up to speed on who has gone, who has arrived, and what we are doing.

Val and I bought the house next door to the original IHOS and completely renovated it. We moved in two years ago this month and immediately discovered a problem. The original IHOS was located at street level and facing said street. The new IHOS is optimized for IHOSness with a major league porch located at the back of the house.

Problem there...

The solution will be forthcoming this year -- perhaps too late for the current IHOS -- but coming nonetheless. We are going to build a major deck on the front of the house. In the meantime, we have a small porch from which to hurl our invectives at the passerbys. We also have two huge bay windows that we installed so that we can make fun of people while inside.

We do have a significant new addition to our tunes system. We used to run a couple of outdoor Radio Shack speakers hooked up to a 50 watt Sony surround sound system. We found that, though we enjoyed the tunes, it didn't exactly piss off the neighbors enough. Our new IHOS system is a pair of custom built cabinets with 15 inch woofers and Klipch horns that can handle 800 watts per side. It is driven by twin QSC RMX 1450 amps running 700 watts per side, and a Behringer limited/compressor so that I don't blow up the entire house. I also now have an option of inputs feeding through a Behringer VMX 300 mixer, namely a Tascam TU-690 AM/FM receiver, a Stanton S-550 twin CD player, a Newmark Pro TT-2 direct drive turntable, a Technics RS-TR252 dual cassette deck, and of course over 200 gigs of full AIFF tunes on the computer. And an AKG mic. The speakers are portable so I can swing them front or back depending on where I want to sit and the whole system is also tied into the 200 Watt surround sound sound system in the living room as well as the Sony tower system in my office -- both of which alone can produce some serious outdoor volume with the windows and doors open. I've gotten 138 dB at four feet so far. So to all my neighbors...if you don't like my tunes...piss off.

In catching you up, I suppose that I should go over the oldsters of the IHOS group. Many of them have rightfully disappeared off the face of the planet. There are a few, however, who have kept in touch over the years. Here are their stories:

Jim: Jim and Leigh got married and now have three kids. One from pre-Jim Leigh and two that are the Satanic spawns of Jim himself. The family has moved north of IHOS into a semi-plantation that requires 300 hours a week of upkeep just on the grounds alone. Jim stops by from time to time whenever Leigh lets him out of the house or whenever it becomes clear that he is about to kill the kids. We hope to see more of Jim this year, but with his land growing all the time, it is difficult to keep up.

Billy Bob: Billy Bob got married to Zool finally and currently lives in Charlotte where he pressure washes everything in sight. They do not yet have any children, preferring to wait a time until they are mentally stable enough to handle the challenge or until Social Services is forced to shut down their offices due to lack of state funding. He gets back here about four of five times a year to see local in-law relatives and to attend horse shows where he is now an expert in the workings of the back end of large, four-legged mammals.

Chris and Angie: He -- still Po-po. She -- still bearer of the largest hooters in the world. Unfortunately they have moved to the other side of town given that they are multiplying like rabbits with hormonal problems. They now have two kids -- Chuck and Chuck Deux -- who look so much like Chris that we are wondering who the real mother is. Chris claims that he is going to get fixed so that there are no more Chris Spawns, but we are taking bets on when the next one is going to come popping out. On the other hand, if Angie's hooters get any bigger she will be recruited to appear in one of those medical journals or National Geographic.

Dave and Kimbies: Alas, their union did not work out as well as expected. Kim apparently grew emotionally leaving Dave in the dirt to wallow in his own feces. Dave is still sharecropping somewhere in the rural outback of central North Carolina surrounded by nubile teenagers with glandular problems while Kim has hooked up with a baseball player in Greensboro. Kim is apparently happy in a relationship where more than grunting occurs, and Dave is ecstatic now that Kim is gone because he now has the funds to keep him in all the KY Jelly he can use. Remember Dave, the Jackrabbit can not be adapted to run on 440 volt, three-phase current.

Katie-Kins: Last seen living back in the Washington DC area, allegedly married, and probably still does not own any shirts with more than one button.

Andy: Laid off from his job. Broke up with his longstanding babe. He has never been happier in his life. Andy is currently into photography, the genre of which we do not yet know. Yet if you see a plethora of new magazines appearing in the adult bookstore, look for his credit line.

PJ: Who knows. Presumably still in Atlanta doing PJ things.

Jaq: Still working at Al-Mart and now playing bass for the fifteenth band in the past two years. Still Jaq, however. Still trying to figure out how to pick up women using food, sex toys, or stimulating conversation. None have been yet successful. He did buy a house, though, and successfully renovated the basement into a full recording studio. Yes, his neighbors really love him.

The old gang...the original IHOS gang. Essentially all turned into boring farts. There is hope, however. The new crew...

But first an explanation for those who don't know or don't remember.

Keep in mind that IHOS is located in the dead center of a massive college community. As such, the attendees of IHOS generally hang for a year or three and then move on. And as such, we always get a new crop of IHOS virgins showing up at our doorstep. So here is the new group that has appeared since the last IHOS outing.

The Barnacle Brothers: Actually four of them which I will detail individually. Keep in mind that the Barnacle Brothers share an apartment together. The apartment, which started out as a really nice three-bedroom townhouse, now looks somewhat like a three-bedroom whorehouse.

Brian: The most twisted of the four and destined to become either a serial rapist or an architect upon graduation if that day ever comes. Many people think that Brian is actually my biological son, but that is not possible since I have never met his mom (or at least I don't ever remember meeting her) and he is so twisted that I probably would have killed him at birth if given the chance. Brian enjoys the company of all types of women regardless of age, looks, mental capacity, and species. Brian drives what used to be a car, but is now something used as an example of what can happen to someone when they drink and drive. The interior is even worse.

Chad: AKA ADD-Boy. To say that Chad is capable of a continuous conversation is as gross overstatement. Chad is world-renown for not being able to keep his train of thought together long enough to finish a sentence. He is constantly being distracted by his surroundings -- things like clouds will throw him for a loop. But Chad is a harmless little fuzzball who, though shy around women, nonetheless has found someone who can keep up with his random neuron firings. Melanie is her name and is about to graduate with n RN degree. That is fortunate for Chad since he needs to be under intensive observation while in public. Chad drives a little pickup truck that has an identity crisis.

Michael: The Red-Headed Irish Man-Slut. Picture a lumbejack. Picture a mighty hunter of deer and turkeys. Picture someone who wanted a little, private outdoor bush obstruction for the molesting of women outside his apartment so he took a fair-sized tree, bent it out of the ground at a 45 degree angle so that the treetop now stood in front of two partially separated bushes, the cavity thus formed now called the invisible hole which Michael proceeded to use frequently with a variety of skanks. Keep in mind that the invisible hole is less than 25 feet from his own bedroom. Keep in mind that the invisible hole is not exactly invisible, but rather easily seen by passing motorists on a very heavily trafficked street. Keep in mind that the invisible hole is located about 15 feet from a streetlight that for all practical purposes could substitute for the sun if our own star ever decides to peter out. This is all of no consequence, however, since Michael is happy. Michael drives a serious work-style pickup truck compete with gun racks, tool chests, deer carcass mounts, multiple beer can holders and a built-in condom machine.

Corkie: What can I say about Corkie that Freud has not already covered. The last time he sobered up was sometime in the early 1970s before he was born. He has a primary bone named Christina who abuses him unmercifully and he loves the attention. He is one of the few people I know who leaves a sperm trail as he walks. When Corkie was young he was afraid that he would fail as a human being so he altered his genetic structure and became a wildebeast, endlessly grazing on the tasty things in life, not caring that he just completely denuded an entire 3,000 acre farm of its crops. Corkie drives a pickup truck that often remains idle out front of his apartment since he can't find it most of the time.

Tanner: I don't know much about Tanner yet since he is a Barnacle Brother to be, taking the place of Michael whenever he graduates -- presumable in May. What I do know about Tanner scares me. I think he is a cannibal who eats young girls for breakfast.

Sirina: Sirina is a gatherer at the Barnacle Brothers apartment in that whenever she shows up she gathers a herd of bipeds whose only function is to act as a life support system for a hormone-ravished pecker. Blond. Stacked. Amazon. Intelligent. Insane. Fun-loving. But the kind of girl you would not bring home to meet your dad since he would put your mom out in the backyard and try to hit on her. The girl never sleeps, never shuts up, and is the center of attention at every party not because such is what she desires, but because she is Sirina. By the way, if you ever read of an alcohol shortage in North Carolina it is almost certainly due to Sirina and her adventures of the prior weekend.

Ali: The Goddess without Peer. Sorry Kim and Jan from IHOS many years ago. Sorry Anna Nicole Smith. Sorry all you major-league babes who think you have it all. Ali tops every one of you. She does not walk into a room -- she oozes. She does not glow -- she shimmers. She does not talk -- she melts with that voice that is a cross between Lena Horne and Marilyn Monroe. One time I watched her get out of her car and two guys walked into telephone poles. Needless to say she has little to do with any of the Barnacle Brothers apart from them being her temporary toys used at her whim.

Jade: Friend of Sirina who show up occasionally. A serious student who also likes to have fun. Jade can engage in any conversation on any topic and be right at home. She is not only adorable, but she has a set of world-class hooters. Jade definitely needs to show up more often.

The Phone Girls: Beverly, Courtney, Brooke, Jennifer, Makenzie, Julie, Ali's Friend ??, Beth, Holly, Dawn AKA Digga, Sheena, et. al. Assorted skanks who are available at a moments notice to come over on demand by the placement of a mere phone call at any hour of the day or night and service Brian. They are the perfect women. The come over, do their thing, leave with their mouths closed, and don't even charge.

Dave: AKA DC. Across the street is still Dave, not the Dave of Kimbies fame, but Dave. Dave is a long distance runner who does not sweat. He has recently taken to playing some sort of new game with a soccer ball and a dryer vent located on the side of his apartment. It appears that the object of the game is to throw the soccer ball such that it hits the dryer vent. We are all waiting for the resulting fire that occurs when the lint backs up behind the now-crushed dryer vent and explodes.

Amanda The Wonder Tongue: AKA Amanda the Panda, Amanda the Snow Bunny, and several other monikers as it strikes my fancy. Amanda is a Yankee by birth and a true Southern redneck skank at heart. She can imbibe with the best of them and is cabable of drinking bevies of bar denizens under their respective tables. She has one problem, though. When she gets trashed, she keeps saying the same things over and over and over and over again. One day we will figure out how to program our current favorite tune into her brain and then we can treat her like a forever-play jukebox. She is also an easy target for barbs, derisions, and various insults. Kinda like shooting carp in a barrel.

Adrianne: There are actually two Adriannes wrapped up in one. Normal Adrianne is a sweet and intelligent woman who not only can run complex statistical analyses in here head, but can sew and will do anything for you. Drunk Adrianne, though, is a wench from hell who scares even Satan and his minions off. If you have ever heard the sound a rabbit makes when it is cornereed, well...multiply that by a million, add several layers of harmonic overtones, and split the sky while raining down fire and human pus on the unsuspecting population. And that is only after the first two or three beers. Add some serious proof stuff to the mix and all the hair on all the animals within three hundred miles falls off, trees defoliate, and Buddist monks start committing suicide by immolation since it makes them feel so much better. We were thinking about constructing a deep gravel pit in the yard to dump her in when Drunk Adrianne appears, but it would just end up like the scene in Carrie where the hand reaches up from the dead and starts grabbing stuff. In the meantime, we are patiently awaiting Melanie to finish here RN degree wo she can keep some Thorazine at the ready.

Guido: Whenever you hear the sound of "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeve" splitting the night air, you are sure to find Guido from across the street. Guido has a thing for monkeys and is desperately trying to be the best Italian he can be.

The Guy on the Motorcycle: The Guy on the Motorcycle lives next door to the Barnacle Brothers. He is a cool guy who rides his motorcycle all day and all night. When the traffic dies down in the middle of the night, he tries to see how far he can hold a wheelie up the street in front of IHOS. He has only wiped out once and didn't do too much damage to my lawn, his bike or his skull. If you know a good neurosurgeon, let us know.

Tuesday, 20 April 2004

Typically a slow night this early in the season. Most things happen in the afternoon or early evening until perhaps June when it finally gets warm enough for free-range bimbos to wander the neighborhood aimlessly at all hours of the night.

Brian apparently went out to play golf earlier today. No one has seen him yet so we can only presume that he drove the other three members of the foursome insane and they killed him.

I stopped by to see Michael earlier in the afternoon but could only stay for a minute or two. He was on the couch when I walked in and promptly cut a major fart that started making my eyes tear. I had to bolt.

Things picked up a tad at a remote IHOS later in the evening. Drunk Adrianne made an obligatory appearance along with a friend of hers, Dee, who it was determined has a set of 40-J hooters. Very impressive. Amanda and I went on an Al-Mart run (the W is still burned out) to pick up some essential stuff that I had run out of. Toilet paper, Kleenex, air fresheners, and a naked mole rat eating a taco. Important stuff.

Late, late that night Val and I fired up the grill twice and cooked out steaks, the last round at about 4 am. They were tasty.

The past several days have been very bad for allergies with the pollen count sitting at 5190. Normally, I am pretty miserable when the count hits 500 to 1000 and I feel like there is a moose on my chest when it hits 2000. 5190 (until today) has remained simply incomprehensible. If snot were a marketable commodity, I could have retired about three-thirty this afternoon.

Jim Report: no Jims
Slug Report: no slugs
Mosquito Report: no mosquitos
Bimbo Report: one bimbo if you count Adrianne
Cicada Report: no cidadids yet, but they are coming. And this is supposed to be a major 17-year brood. It will be very cool to swat the things with tennis rackets.

Wednesday 21 April 2004

Andy showed up tonight bearing donuts. And good Krispy Kreme donuts at that. We let him in since he brought us food. Normally we would make him wait outside because he has a tendency to break things as he moves, but for food we make an exception.

We had a major fire in Raleigh this evening. It seems that a two million dollar house that was almost complete caught fire and burned. Unfortunately we were eating donuts and keeping an eye on Andy so that he didn't break things and missed the initial fire call on the scanners. By the time I caught up with what was happening, the fire department had extinguished the flames and there was little else to see.

Jim Report: no Jims
Flying, Screeching Thing Report: two flying, screeching things dutifully eating bugs
Guy on the Motorcycle Report: many successful full throttle runs up and down the street without incident

Friday, 23 April 2004

The Jim showed up tonight. Finally. Bringing pizza. And Leigh. And Aaron. And "The Phoebe." But first...

I'm out mowing the lawn which, by the way currently has about 11 different species of grass growing in it with the one I actually want -- the Bermuda -- not quite coming in yet. Brian, Chad, and Penny came sneaking up on me and poked me in my ribs while I had my back turned. They were lucky that I had mown enough of the lawn to be a bit tuckered out or I probably would have picked up the mower and thrown it at them. Blade forward. Full throttle.

After I had calmed down and started mowing again, Chad spent the next fifteen minutes or so walking with me as I mowed back and forth. He kept pointing out the larger stalks of grass in my path and made sure that I mowed them properly. He finally got distracted at a plane flying overhead and stayed still for the balance of the mow. Penny was uncharacteristically quiet today. Penny is Greek and I think has an overactive thyroid problem. She is like a tiny Chihuahua -- always yapping, but strangely always making sense no matter how many beers are in her. I though maybe she was exhausted from having sex with Brian, but then I realized that unless someone is grossly out of shape one would not get tired from 90 seconds of feeble effort. And Penny is in excellent shape; she just needs some hooters. Later this summer we may hold an IHOS-a-thon to raise money for implants.

Back to Jim...

He brings that family over and they make fun of me while I finished up the lawn. By the time I get to the table, most of the pizza is gone and what is left has gotten cold, fit only to be eaten by women with PMS so Val and Leigh ate the rest of it. The Phoebe has an interesting way of eating pizza. She peels all the cheese and toppings off, eats them, then turns the crust upside down and gums it into mush. Once the pizza was gone, Aaron and The Peoebe started doing the "Foot Dance". That is something where you stomp your feet for about 15 seconds (more like running in place) while singing la-la-la-la-la. Then you sit down hard on your butt. And I mean hard. Repeatedly. For ten minutes. From what I understand, they normally do this on carpet, but tonight they were doing it on a hard, wooden deck. So tomorrow when Social Services shows up at Jim's door demanding to know why both his kids have horrible bruises on their butts, I can cover for him.

About nine PM, Aaron and The Phoebe started getting tired. Now when I get tired I usually sit down and typically nap for a bit. Small children are different from you and I, however. It seems the more tired they get, the more active they get. Did you know that small children can screech loud enough to raise the dead? And they do this for fun, not out of fear or pain? Leigh finally got them to quiet down a bit by making them show us their ability to touch their tongues to their noses. Leigh used to be able to do that herself, but as she got older her nose moved farther away from the end of her tongue and she can no longer accomplish that feat.

Jim Report: one Jim
Flying, Screeching Thing Report: multiple flying, screeching things
Cicada Report: nothing yet

Saturday, 24 April 2004

Very slow night this evening. Most of the action -- indeed all of the action -- revolved around the police and fire scanners. We had a murder, also know as a signal 103 when someone decided to blow someone else away. A lot of fire trucks and police cars. Very pretty lights. We also had at least two other signal 102's (shootings) and a couple of stabbings. Only the murder was anywhere near us and even it was about three miles away.

In the apartment complex across the street there was a smallish party comprised of what appeared to be six babes, a handful of barking human females, and a plethora of guys getting into continuous sword fights. About three AM, some idiot pulled the stairwell fire box and a bunch of fire engines showed up.

Shortly before that occurred, though, I heard a major blast coming from our south. It sounded like someone pulled both triggers on a 12-gauge shotgun or perhaps an 8-gauge shotgun. Very loud. No one had their intestines ripped out with their blood spilling all over the ground so it was pretty much a non-event as far as I'm concerned.

Jim Report: no Jims
Porch Insect Report: many flying moths and other insects flitting around the porch lights, but no cicadas yet. I am getting impatient

Sunday, 25 April 2004

Nice wacking on the Sopranos this evening. Given the previews, next week ought to be even better.

I got a call abouit midnight or so from Tanner. He and Brian were driving around as they appear to often do on Sunday nights. They wanted to come over. So they came over and true to form, Tanner was trashed, Brian was enlisted as the desingated driver, and both had their milkshakes. Tanner getting a milkshake on Sunday night while trashed seems to be part of the ritual. They didn't stay too long so they left mumbling something about class in the morning. Poor babies.

We also set the date for The First Annual Post-"Hillsborough Street Crawl", Pre-"Saturday Night And Exams Start Next Week So I'm Gonna Stay Trashed For The Next 24 Hours" Crabfest And Ribeye Snarf to be held this coming Saturday afternoon. It is by invination only and is kind of a summer kickoff for the Barnacle Brothers and associates as they venture into the workforce for the summer months. It is also a preemptive graduation party for Michael and Melanie presuming they actually pass finals the following week.

IHOS Weather Report: Strong storms are expected Monday followed by three days of rather cold weather with lows in the upper 30s. Not happy. As such, there may not be another IHOS entry until Friday or so since hibernation mode sets in when the temperature drops below 50.
Street Light Report: I noticed that several of the street lights were out across the street. I also noticed that it appears someone took a hatchet or axe to the electrical feeds. Lights don't work without power.
Special To T.S.: Home you enjoy and hope you feel better. Nice chatting with ya

26-30 April 2004

Too chilly to do anything really fun, though there was one thing that happened of note on Friday night. Friday was the last day of classes at NCSU and as such was also the night of the annual Hillsborough Hike. That is a community event where thousands of students start at one end of Hillsborough Street across from campus and drink their way to the other end. 22 shots or beers later -- one at each establishment that sells such -- thousands of students make a feeble attempt to get home or at least somewhere instead of a gutter.

I got a call about 10 PM from the Barnacle Brothers requesting a ride over to Hillsborough Street. For the first time ever, all four Barnacle Brothers were in my car at the same time.

Saturday, 1 May 2004

Now we're talking.

Apart from the torrential rain and Biblical floods, it was a really great day at IHOS. We had a whole bunch of people over for a year-end dinner. The Barnacle Brothers including Barnacle Brother emeritus Ernie, Melanie (primary squeeze of ADD-Boy,) and Barnacle Brothers to be, Tanner and Britton. Britton (AKA Studly Do-right) had in tow Susan who is really quiet, but has a great butt. Someone named Michael or something also showed up and I presume that someone else knew him. We managed to feed 12 people indoors without any massive destruction. It was supposed to be an outdoor feeding, but the rain simply would not let up until just shortly after we had brought everything inside and it would have been too much of a pain to revert back to the exterior.

Chad managed to keep relatively calm since his attention was diverted for most of the evening. I have a full-sized oil reproduction of a Jackson Pollock piece on my living room wall and Chad's brain overloaded staring at it. Every time he started to wander back into reality, his eye caught another swirl of color and that held him for about ten minutes or so. Most everyone was remarkably quiet, though, since they could barely move as a result of the food they had just consumed. After dinner, I threw in the movie Armageddon to get them riled up then sent them on their way to drink heavily. And drink heavily they did.

The party of the night was over at D's house across the street. Many babes. Many swords. And Guido. Yes, Guido finally showed up at one of D's parties. I knew he was here when I hears the piercing sound of "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve" ripping the very space-time fabric of the night. We had our first official barfing of the year as well.

Kelli, a sweet babe who is the primary squeeze of Mike, not only initiated the summer barfing season, but pulled a hat trick. The first barfing, the first projectile barfing, and the first extended dry heave -- all in succession. It took her almost a half-hour to recover before she started drinking again.

Babe of the night goes to Savannah, a sultry bimbo from Wilmington who has moved to Raleigh much to the delight of about fifteen thousand guys who live in the area. Savannah is a friend of Katie, the sister of Tanner and who turned 21 last night. Needless to say she was real pretty come around midnight.

Tanner didn't have a very good night, however. He left a bottle of banana-flavored alcohol in the back of a pickup truck that was serving as the beer drop for several dozen people. Someone snagged his bottle which on the one hand was probably a good thing since the stuff was fairly nasty, but also managed to turn Tanner into a seething clump of alcohol-less protoplasm. He came up with the great idea of forcing everyone at the party to breathe on him and the one with the banana breath he intended to rip their spine out. We talked him out of that, but he continued to be pissy about the whole thing. All this time many dozens of babes were wandering within sword-shot of him, but he was so distraught that he ignored them. We really need to have a talk with Tanner.

I then wandered back over to the Barnacle Brother's house to see where the balance of them were. They were in the process of leaving and walking down to D's party, but there was something on the couch. Actually two somethings -- Jennifer and Nikki. Let's start with Jennifer. Jennifer is a Peace College babe who is in enamored with Brian to say the least. Her view of the relationship is kinda crossed between Fatal Attraction and Death Wish. As usual, she was pissed off at Brian. With Jennifer was Nikki, a babe from Greenville who has a broken foot. Fifth metatarsal to be exact. She had on a pretty pink cast that matched the rest of her outfit and looked stunning while collapsed on the futon unable to move effectively enough to do anything. By the way, a short word on the futon...

Futon One was a fixture in the Barnacle Brother's house for a long time. It was in fairly good shape given the traffic over the years. Then Michael decided one night to drink an entire brewery and pass out on Futon One. Michael has a six-gallon bladder. Michael was too "tired" to get up to drain the one-eyed trouser snake properly. Michael's six-gallon bladder decided that enough was enough and hence the demise of Futon One. Given that I sit on the futon when I go over there, I decided that it was worth the investment to procure Futon Two for them. So it was actually Futon Two that Jennifer and Nikki were perched upon. Michael, of course, denies all responsibility in the matter of Futon One and insists that it was some babe he was with who disembladdered herself. Given that the female anatomy is built differently from men and that for a woman to be able to hold that much piss would require her to be about sixteen feet tall, we really don't believe Michael's version of the occurrence, but we'll go with it while he is around and make fun of him when he is not.

But back to Jennifer and Nikki...

When Brian left for D's, I wandered back over there with him. Brian was quickly overwhelmed with babes and stood there like a stunned deer, unable to move or communicate. His cutie field was completely shattered within moments of arriving. So I left him to stand there, propped up against a wall, drooling at the scenery, but unable to do anything about it. Now, when I left the Barnacle Brother's house, Jennifer and Nikki had been left here all by their lonesome (actually Michael did not leave, but rather went upstairs and collapsed in a heap very early for him. I think he was still suffering the effects of the Hillsborough Hike since earlier at dinner he was shaking so badly that he looked like Janet Reno on a bad day) They stayed there because Nikki had not yet mastered the art of walking on crutches. After about an hour, I went back up to the Barnacle Brother's place to see what they were up to and, lo and behold, Jennifer and Nikki had discovered a bottle of something that they had promptly consumed. Since they did not smell like bananas, they were not implicated in the earlier theft, but were completely hammered sitting there watching some country music channel on the TV and singing along to their favorite songs which at that point was all of them.

One other person of note was John. John is a longtime friend of the whole Alamance County crowd who about ten years ago tried to do the nasty with Katie, sister of Tanner. John denies the whole incident and Katie was too hammered to ask about it so I will leave the discovery of details till a further date and report back.

Slug Report: three slugs on the back porch which, as soon as it stops raining Tuesday, will be destroyed with metaldehyde. Have fun while you can.
Jim Report: no Jims
Bimbo Report: many bimbos in various stages of dress or undress as the case may be. The blond hottie with the blue eyes was back so the night was good.
Val Report: once again my lovely wife comes though in creating a perfectly timed gastronomic feast. It was so good that someone scratched "I Love Val" into one of the tables.
Chad and Melanie Report: shortly after dinner, Melanie had to go to some sort of dildo bridal party and Chad disappeared not to be seen for the rest of the night. We do not know if the two events were related. I supposed someone needs to be at those parties to demonstrate the proper use of a butt-plug.
Egg Report: Ernie had many dozens of eggs in the back of his car which he distributed to other folks throughout the course of the evening. We do not know where the eggs came from, not do we care to know.
Corkey Addendum: Even though it is now Sunday, Corkey is still trashed so it is actually Saturday in his mind. He just came over during a violent thunderstorm to borrow a copy of Forrest Gump, a movie which I think is his biography.

Saturday, 5 June 2004

I was sitting on the porch reading a book in the peace of the night when the Call of the Wild pierced the night -- Steeeeeeeeeeeeeve. Obviously Guido. Unfortunately it was not Guido,but a Guido wannabe. I wandered over anyway.

I got there about midnight and left at a bit after 4 am. The time is significant here because it graphically illustrates exactly how long Katie talked. Non-stop. She didn't even take a breath let alone let anyone else get a work in edgewise. Katie is convinced that she has ADD. The rest of us are convinced that she simply has an inability to shut up. She claims that there are only three things that can actually make her quiet down for awhile. They are good food (not just food since she can readily talk while she is eating,) being asleep (though not always since she thinks that she talks in her sleep from time to time,) and the third she would not mention. We presumed that it involved something sexual, but that can not be right given the night that D and her hooked up for the nasty and D (reportedly) had to finally tell her to shut up. Mind you that we are not complaining since she has some really neat stuff to talk about. But it does tend to suck the IQ out of your skull after an hour or two. I suppose that it is just as good that one can not get in a word since that gives one more time just to leer. Katie is gone beyond a full-blown babe and is approaching Goddess status. And speaking of Goddesses...

Savannah was not there tonight. I was very disappointed. Not only was she not there to destroy cutie fields, but I also never got the chance to apologize for something I did not do. Not that the anti-act is of any importance since to apologize I would have to understand what the gaggle of babes was talking about to begin with (an impossibility given the general thought processes of a gaggle of babes,) but it would have been nice to apologize anyway.

Dave dropped in after a night of drunken debauchery and immediately started to size up babes. By that time it was turning into somewhat of a sword fight, so he had to procure his own babes. And the babe it turned out to be was Brittany. Brittany along with Deanna came over. First Brittany...

Brittany is a bundle of blond who is a major league babe. Brittany is also a former primary squeeze of Dave. After reacquainting themselves again after a bone absence of some two years, Brittany walked Dave home, but quickly returned with the report that Dave is still a cutie. After much prying by the gaggle of babes, it was determined that there was no lip-locking in the short walking of Dave, but the future was left open. I'm sure that Dave is happy to hear that. Now to Deanna...

Deanna looks like Monica Lewinsky. Hey...what can I say. All that was missing was the beret. Now don't hold that against her especially since I really think that Monica is a hottie. Fortunately (or unfortunately as the case may be for the swords) she is not like Monica in her actions. She is actually a very sweet major league babe who has a brain in her skull. She doesn't talk much, though, which is understandable since she her roommates are Brittany and Katie so she probably can't get a work in edgewise. Ever.

Now, a correction. Kelli is NOT the primary squeeze of Mike. She is the primary squeeze of Zack. Kelli took grave exception to her characterization as the primary squeeze of Mike which probably made Mike feel really wanted. He will get over it, though, since not many babes want him to begin with so he is pretty much used to abject rejection on a continual basis.

Now, the sad news. The Barnacle Brothers have moved out. They decided to get a large house to live in for the next year and their apartment is vacated. Now, the sadder news. I never realized that Brian was so completely ignorant. It seems that they needed to vacate their apartment by the last day of May, but they signed a lease on the house so that they could move in on 5 June. Uh...what was he thinking? Rather than loading up all their stuff and driving it over to the new house, they had to load up all their stuff, drive it about an hour to where their parental units reside, then turn it around five days later and bring it back. After hearing all of Brian's lame excuses as to how that all came about, it struck me that ultimately Tanner had far more to do with the scenario than anyone was willing to admit.

Slug Report: no slugs since any that venture out of wherever slugs live will immediately die when they hit all the stuff I put down. Of course, nothing at all can live in my yard for the next several weeks, but the slugs are going.
Jim Report: no Jims
Squawking Birds Report: The local birds seem to have lost their minds and began screeching far earlier and at a far greater volume than normal. I suspect that they were just trying to tell Katie to shut up.
Cicada Report: absolutely no Cicadas have been spotted or heard. I'm beginning to think that the whole thing is a hoax in an attempt to take out minds off the giant spiders crawling all over creation.

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