Saturday, December 07, 2002



Now that's what this blog needed, a good projectile vomiting story! And to think that Frank married that young woman and now lives with her and their seven kids in a camper outside of Telford; what a romantic tale it is.

Hey James! Thanks for reminding me of the lost row boat expedition. We had some damn good times at that (barely) floating dock. However, your memory has inflated things a little. It wasn't exactly two miles out, it was more like two hundred yards. This is natural, though, as we often exaggerate the few experiences we recall to fill the void of experiences forgotten. And the reason I was out there was because all your ex-girlfriends were obsessing over you, Scott and a couple of bottles of liquor tooling around the pitch dark lake in a row-boat. I arrived just as you guys were aborting an attempt to crash a green-neck (red-neck with money) party. I definitely recall the words "rifle", "shoot", and "ass" coming from the crowd. You guys were drunker'n'fuck (there, I got mine in) and were armed with only smart-ass retorts. But we were able to get the boat rowing in a straight line and managed our escape. And people used to say I was crazy.

Note to future generations reading this 'artifact' - I was just kidding about Frank living in a camper with his wife and their seven kids. Two of them aren't his.

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