Just ramblin'

Thursday evening and game 4 of the Playoffs are underway.  Betcha can't guess what's on TV here?  Midway through the first with no score.  Scratch that, #91 Mr. Tarasenko just hit the back of the net on the breakaway.  The Notes lost game one in Dallas, won game two in overtime, and dominated the Stars in game three, winning 6-1.  Many of the experts are predicting the Blues to win this series, (touch wood, not that I'm superstitious or anything), and move into the Conference finals.  

LET'S GO BLUES!!!

Yes, still history, though not so ancient history now.  If I can get this one in before midnight, I can keep 6 entries ready to go.  Maybe I can gain a little ground over the weekend.  I wouldn't count on that though.  Seven entries (with this one) ready to post, eleven posting days before June, one holiday, and one birthday in the mix means I might be able to make it.  I wouldn't count on that either.  I suppose it depends on what I can find to ramble about.

Whatta little douchebag.  Had I done something like this when I was 15 I'm not certain I would have made it to my 16th.  Not only urinating in public, but urinating on the public.  I suppose the old saying about being pissed off is better than being pissed on applies here.   He's really lucky he isn't my kid.

I probably need to have one of these tossed to me help keep the Ramble afloat.  Oh, and maybe a dye marker or two for the rescue attempts.  Call the Coasties for a SAR bird.  This close to the shores of June I probably won't need the C-130.  A helo and the rescue swimmer will probably be enough.  Splashing around calling for a life ring, I know my luck though.  I'll shout life ring and the life guard in the tower will hear anchor...

The anchor will be about 50,000 lbs. those links weigh 150 to 200 lbs each, each shot, the 15 fathoms (90') between the red links probably tip the scales at 10,000 lbs.  The white links on either side of the red one will tell you the number of shots.  I counted at least 12 shots, 1100'.  200,000 lbs sounding like a freight train.  Turn up the volume.

A storehouse of trivial B.S.  Ugh, I hate the way my brain works sometimes.  

Thanks.

See you tomorrow, most likely.

*Postscript.  Not a good night at the rink.  Saturday afternoon in Dallas game 5.