Rakes, at 9:06 tonight.
"Look, Dad! Dat Toto Trispy!"
With the score 7-2 Tigers, headed to the bottom of the ninth as I type?
I'll take a laugh wherever I can find it.
*Youk just popped up to end the game. The Red Sox are 4-5; time to panic.*
It's April the 9th; would all the ledge jumpers please move to the back of the line?
Remember people; it's a marathon, not a sprint. And as soon as market is over, I'll have a dispatch from Miss Hathaway, or at least something a TAD creative. Until then, this is the best I've got.
And yes, I realize it's not much.
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
1 week ago