Six thirty on a Saturday night finds your intrepid blogger wondering to herself two things:
1. Where is all the fucking beer, Butcher? I just want to sit out on the back porch and watch the sun set and have a nice cold beer, but all there is in the fridge is that caffinated Budweiser crap. I can’t drink that.
2. At what point is my fascination with Kleinheider going to lead to him calling the cops? Kleinheider, please, keep in mind what the Wayward Boy Scout says: I’m nuts, but nuts in a loveable way. Keep that in mind when I flash you. Not that I’m planning on flashing you. But, you know, if I accidently flashed you. I’m not dangerous.
Because, I went down to Smyrna to meet up with the bloggers who meet up and, aside from trying to talk Ivy’s daughter into going over and saying “boogers” to Brittney, the only other thing I accomplished was grilling Brittney about Kleinheider: “Is he charming and intriguing in person? Will you start a blog that is just pictures of what socks he has on that day? Do you think he wants to see my boob freckle? What does the C. stand for?” Etc.
Also, I met Gunner from Say Uncle (the blog, not the person) and was momentarily star-struck. So, star-struck, in fact, I forgot to ask him if he’d ever met Uncle and, if so, what he’s like.
So, good times.