As part of my work-release program, I've agreed to ride the highways and enforce the laws of the man that keeps me down. Though it burns my soul, the sliver of pride that I cling to is my hog Dinah and my daily pickle ration. Someday the tides will turn, and my captors will pay for these atrocities.
Grandma says she needs new pictures, so here's a quickie slide show:
Who am I to second-guess my fans? You asked for it, and here there are: More pictures of little Miss Iris!
It was supposed to be the fight of the century. A no-holds-barred match-up that had been brewing for over nine months and was finally going to come to an end tonight.
I had ringside seats -- and if you know anything about this town you know that those weren't easy to come by. My best lady was there, a little woman I know named Peggy, and we'd just settled in for the final rounds.
What we got was 12 plus hours of slow build-up that ended in a frantic 1 hour grand finale that would have kept Charlie Kaufman guessing. Here's the end result: Iris Evangeline.
An angel from heaven, if I may be so bold.
Weighing in at 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 21 inches long, this rookie has real potential. Thank goodness she's got an experienced pro like my mom to show her the way.
My preparations for the 2020 Olympics have begun. Today was my first training session with Bjorn, a Hungarian defector who specializes in weight training. We focused on building my quadruplexes and upper tibia by working the medicine ball.
My vanilla milk nightcap has never tasted so sweet.
