I'm dropping out of school to become a crooner

A dark cloud hangs over all those young men and women who have grown to love the great Robert Goulet. The Man of La Mancha has has passed on but won't soon be forgotten. That glistening mustache and bushy eyebrows will now turn from frightening nightmares to pleasant daymeres. His voice was that of Elvis, Sinatra and Will Ferral all mixed into one soothing and mildly irritating cacophonic grumble. As a tribute I will dress as him for Halloween and annoy people by talking like him while holding a really long, cheaply made microphone. Complete with a cord that keeps getting in my why as I pace back forth waiting for trick-or-treaters. As for the residual emotions, I plan on getting over this whole ordeal by getting drunk off cheap scotch and shining my shoes until my painted-on mustache fades.

here a blog there a blog

I suppose the female mind is a treacherous series of spikes and log mounted daggers fixed upon the overhanging branch of eternity, waiting for you to trip the wire. The key is...send the dog in first.

Ah yes the interweb......the time has come when we are forced to do battle. A worthy adversary? I think not!