beebo

My most sincere apologies to Rother and Sir Zorro, of course. My out-of-control ravings have left them apoplectic in the extreme and I do despair on account of it.

Hi

Knowing full-well that the frontal lobes of my brain are sensitive in the extreme, my unthinking Wife bought me an electric toothbrush so as to off-set wrist-sprain, carpeltunnel, or some other such nonsense that one can develop over time through manual brushing. She spared no expense and bought me the "ultramax" one. I have a foggy memory of teaching our neighbour's dog to climb the cedar tree between our houses that night. There may have been other issues with other neighbours who have hopefully been placated with free beer that she and my Son had set out in the alley. I humbly apologise for my outrageous postings here of late and will never even once use a noggin-jarring dental scrubbing product again.

I.. errmmm..

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Packing all that's been dear and meaningful to me into a plush and downy sack, I hang it from my shoulder with a care that's been borne from my love and respect of its occupants. They are "Jamer's" ones. The craggy mount that must be climbed causes me to cringe as it nearly blackens out the Sun.. and my resolve that dearly needs it. Having climbed to its top, shins bleeding from unforgiving shards and lurking boulders; gulping air and tightening the dressing on my compound-fractured ankle, I notice that I am standing on a knob. A knob can only ever hold the feet that are on it. Suddenly, my shins and ankle; my aching lungs; my numbed and burning muscles .. are heard! Suddenly, my aching arm speaks to me as though echoing the searing pain from my failing fingers' grips. Suddenly.... well.... This is my "drama" approach. I've got more.

I thunk that you were just ascared of me and that you had tiny nards on account-of you never respondid to my devastatin' attaks on you. Wellcum back, my Bruther.

.. holy crap.

Please accept my appopologies, Derren. I pray that you might accept them on account of you're a Moderator. If I had known your status, my pm to you (no memory at all of it) might very well have been much kinder probably. . . . . . Derren, schmerren, the big fat perren. beebo.

I am bored now and will look elsewhere. .... so.. fu(king bored...

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Rats! Missed mentioning you in "Loggerheads". Sorry. Welcome back.

IT'S F^CKING BLOOOOOOO!! I've received word from Newfoundland that he's still in one piece, and had probably been seeking shelter on it's rocky shores all this time on account of hurricanes and other such stoopid Atlantic inclementries that he's not used to on account of he'd been living here on the mighty (although kinder/gentler/warmer) Pacific before I'd sent him off to Ogre's house. Being the brave and accommodating fellow I know him to be, awash in his embarrassment, he's given the reins to the Newfoundland post office which will fly him the rest of his way in safety. Aside from being a wee bit scuffed up, I know in my heart that he's excited to be welcomed into his new home.. at Ogre's house.. who's address I am happy to forward to the Newfoundland post-office once I get it sent to me.

Laughing my fu^king head off, A1. Thanks. errrrrmmm.. perhaps I was lmao. Yes, it was lmao.

Our poor Ogre is a fatalist and will not for one minute, believe that a blue etch-a-sketch can indeed fly and that it's just taken so very long to get to him on account of our entire continent's width and the many dangers and inclement years that the Atlantic Ocean has offered it on it's long way to his house. It will stay it's course. It is irreverent to distance and also hardships.