Hump Day Rule 5 - Hayden Panettiere - The Swimsuit Edition

Yes folks. This is a Hayden Panettiere redux. I'm not just getting senile.

Go see my first Hayden Panettiere Hump Day Rule 5 Post HERE.

She deserves a repeat performance, because...Hayden Panettiere.

Larry's Mustang

Found this place up in northern Alabama, just outside of Muscle Shoals.

"Now Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers,
And they've been known to pick a song or two..."
(Yes we do)

C'mon, y'all...you know the tune.

Where was I?

Oh yeah.
So I ran into this place in northern Alabama, and it reminded me of my blog-buddy Larry.

Once I moved to Chesterfield, VA., I was supposed to hook up with Larry for a beer.
That plan got blown away with my transfer down to Alabama.

Larry, next time you head down to Florida, make a detour over to B'ham.
Got some cold ones in the fridge.

Sunday morning sleep-in #52

Laura meets Mr Palmetto Bug.

I stood perfectly still because any sudden movements startles them into attack mode and I wasn’t ready to make my hero move quite yet.

I LOL'd.

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It's been so long since we lived in the tropics, I had forgotten about the amazing diversity and general heartiness of the insect population in warmer climates.

Reading Laura's account, I was reminded what happened to the old lady and me just the other night.

Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit...
Mrs B and I were standing out on the back porch at sunset, having a smoke. It was that perfect dusk...just enough light to see, but not nearly enough to be able to see anything well.
Suddenly, a V-22 Osprey buzzed past my head, missing my right ear by about 2 inches.

MSgt B - Shit!...(Crouching and swiveling his head madly. Looking for more incoming.)

Mrs B - Oh Jeez, Honey. Don't be such a puss...WHAT THE FUCK!
            (That Osprey had circled around for a second look. I think he liked her perfume.)

MSgt B - Did you get a look at him?

Mrs B - I can't see shit. It's too dark out here. I told you we should have smoked in the garage.

MSgt B - So who's the pussy now?

Mrs B - I'm going inside..

Just then, that evil bastard turns onto the downwind leg, lining up for his run on target. This move silhouetted him nicely against the light coming through the french doors from the living room.
Man, that fucker was huge. He was about the size of my thumb, maybe a little bigger, and you could see his legs hanging down and everything. (And I mean everything...I was beginning to feel a little inadequate...)

He looked like one of those bugs you see in the cheesy horror movies Mrs B likes. Right before the ground opens up, and a tentacle reaches out to snatch you into another dimension.

Mrs B threw both hands up by her head. She was either going to smack him, or she was surrendering without a shot being fired.

MSgt B - Shit, Baby. He heard you! He's trying to cut us off...swat his ass!

Mrs B - Swat him with what?

MSgt B - With your hand! Quick, he's getting away!

Mrs B - YOU swat him!

I heard this last command from over my shoulder, as I turned to continue trying to track that huge bug as he swept down and camouflaged himself in the Gardenia bush.
It was followed immediately by the sound of a french door slamming shut, and the...deadbolt...latching.

MSgt B - (Looking at Mrs B peering out through the curtains.) Baby, did you just lock the door?

Mrs B nodding her head yes.

MSgt B - What happened to "No man left behind"?

Mrs B shaking her head no.

MSgt B - Honey. You have to let me back in the house...

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Oops!  Almost forgot... Happy Father's Day!

Saturday Morning Coffee #65

Caffeine withdrawal is a mental disorder.

Thanks, David.

Just glad to do my part.

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The Anti-Soma's Friday-Fuck-Off-Thread is epic.

(Kinda embarrassing how long it took me to figure out what the FFOT acronym stood for. I had to ask...)

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In honor of Flag Day...

I didn't get my flag flying. The only one I have left is the big cotton monster they gave me at retirement. I don't have a full-sized flag pole to fly it from.

I didn't put together a blog post about it either.

I was too busy working my ass off to earn a living, and I feel kinda good about that.

I drove through Centre, Alabama a couple times. 

In honor of Flag Day, they put a 3x5 nylon flag up in the median of the highway for every veteran from Centre who had died in the line of duty. The base holding each flag was a cross with the name of the vet and what war they had served in.

The line of flags went on for a couple miles, and Centre is what I would refer to as one of those "quaint little towns".

These little towns around the south seem to turn out an inordinate number of hardass motherfuckers when the shooting starts.

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Inappropriate Humor in 3...2...

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Friday ... ...

Trying to avoid having my Saturday Morning Coffee in a hotel room.

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Ooh ooh That Smell

Ever work at a paper mill? It's such an interesting smell.

Imagine a boiling cauldron of sulfur, shit and three-day roadkill.

After you've gone back to your hotel, showered that smell out of your hair and burned whatever clothes you were wearing, then you go out to your truck to go to dinner...and discover that smell has soaked into the upholstery.

Is it Friday yet?

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Hump Day Rule 5 - TilaTequila

Because who cares if she's carrying more baggage than a Concorde? Right?