Life in the temperate zone...

"I'm sorry, rum ham! I'm sorry!"

One of my ex-wives was from a town noted for it's Bohemian ancestry, and when we'd go down there for holidays, those old Czech women would make Rum Balls laced with so much rum and bourbon you'd get snockered on the damn things before you even realized there was booze in them. They're not baked, so the booze stays in them at full strength. I just thought they were tasty. Ex-wife kept telling me to take it easy on those things, they're potent. I figured, how much booze could be in them? A couple shots worth in the whole batch?

Nope. Must have been that much booze in each one. Had one of the worst hangovers ever, the first time we went down there at Xmas time. Between those and the eggnog laced with enough booze to preserve a mummy for eternity.
 
Ha! You gotta watch those Czech folks when it comes to the booze.

I was once the "bad times friend" for a Czech co-worker who was going through a divorce, what a shit show. He was good at chess though. We must have consumed several barrels a week in the Avery tap house. :birras: I think I aged 3 or 4 years in my 8 months working next door to the brewery.
 
My wife is constantly saying, "Not my circus, not my monkeys!" and now I've caught myself using the expression. She worked for a big pharmaceutical company for 16 years, and that's where she picked it up. Big surprise there, right?
 
Clearly, the End Times are here. I was skeptical, until I got to #4 on the list. If that's not a portent of bad times coming, I don't know what is.
The ignition switch on my stump grinder went tits up. It rained soggy potato chips, and the entrails of a goat were found, tied in square knots.
The end is coming.

I better stock up on beer.
 
That last picture gives me the creeps. Clearly, I have very few qualms about associating with evil clowns, brain dead zombies or even slutty college girls... but really, a guy has to draw the line somewhere. If Bilbo O'Reilly showed up at my front door, I'd sic the dogs on him and call the Sheriff's Office to report a rampaging pervert on the loose.

Now, about this Super Hero gig you keep talking about... would this entail regular 9-5 hours and paid vacation, or are we talking about one of those cash under the table deals? What about the not uncommon scenario where I'm tired or hung over or just don't feel like listening to a bunch of whiny crime victims bitching about some nutty, serial rapist running around the neighborhood (see above pic)... surely, I wouldn't be expected to get out of bed, send the hookers home, or shave and get dressed, would I?

I don't know, buddy. Seems like an awful lot of work, what with all the worst criminals now holding public office.
 
There's gotta be some incredible perks right? Legions of adoring fans (hopefully coeds), endorsements (hopefully White Castle), cool superhero toys and vehicles (jet packs, light sabres, X Ray glasses etc).

We'd keep out own schedule and work when we felt up to it. My back and knees are currently buggered up so I won't be putting on a disguise/costume anytime soon (no tights or capes as a rule). Maybe every other Saturday assuming I dont have a game to watch, beer to drink, food to cook, or an ass to sit on?
 
Well, that sounds like a much more palatable work schedule. So, you're saying we could work Trump hours, vacation in Mar-a-Lago style, and not have to track down old, drug crazed hair band members in search of Spandex, tiger-striped pants?

Count me in.

Oh, and do superhero types have to give up their lifelong vices and habits, picked up over the years, such as... umm... hypothetically speaking, of course... eating small children, wild sex orgies or self-medicating with hallucinogenic drugs? Because that could be a deal breaker, right there.
 
Boy, yer like Joe Walsh, Keith Richards, and Jerry Garcia rolled into one toxic doob aren't ya? Like a wacky episode of Behind the Music mashed into an after school special from Hell. Just try to keep it together around the kids. Think of the children. Maybe one of your powers is the never-ending sack of magical boomers or something?

Ya cant be no regular geek of the street. Ya gotta be handy with some sort of instrument of war. Were going up against some bad, bad dudes. Trust me. I know bad dudes...
 
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