The Blood Runneth Cold

The mercury dropped to 32 degrees this morning as I stepped outside to admire the first rays of sunlight in days.  Sure, I thought, it was ever frosty but it just didn’t occur to me to put on a coat.  Wisconsin, I have arrived.

What a Beef

Now really, could I ever, in my wildest, wildest dreams concoct a scene where one walks into a German pub / biergarten in Northern Wisconsin and beholds 2 300+ pound Wisconsin fratties, 2 100 pound emos, 3 50-year-old J. “what is, he a used car salesman?” Looneybird clones, 1 dude in a cowboy had, 1 cancer patient, 2 Harley Davidson bikers, and a chick playing a tambourine bumping and grinding to a live band on top of a table, beneath 2 armored knights and precariously close to a glass case filled with antique steins?

And then, could I awake from this Prussian surrealism to find that the Pirates of Gitche Gumee have invaded town and that Super Walmart’s biggest grocery competitor has decided to ramp up their image by participating in a beef fest by constructing a theme ala The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?

Trig's Beef-a-rama Massacre

Trig’s Mighty Display

Parade of Beefs

This weekend there will be a parade of beefs through the town.  All are invited.

ALSO: CONGRATULATIONS TO ME FOR SURPASSING 1,000 HITS / DAY!

Signage, Wissie Style

 

Wissie Signange

Ghost Cows

In this pasture, the cows only come out at night.  I suspect vampire-cow hybrids.  A herd of bovires.

Enchanted Pasture

P.S. Earlier this summer, I hurtled the Campmobile across the bridge and over the Tomahawk, which runs adjacent to this ghostly pasture.  A gang of country ruffians, no more than 8, just about threw themselves on the hood, screaming, “BUY SOME LEMONADE!” in more of an order than a hopeful request.  I was so freaked out, I skidded to a stop on the side of the road and bought two cupfuls of yellow-ish liquid while their grampy, a crumbly man of at least 112, supervised.  I calmly stepped backed into my vehicle and got the hell out of there, their toothy grins emblazoned upon my skull.  Only afterwards, after my knuckles stopped rattling, did I dare taste their childish concoction.  The sensation can only be described as water torture via sugar-cubed swamp muck.  I tossed the rest of the jaundiced sludge out the window.  Never did I see these child-barbarians, these keepers of the bovires, again.

By the way…

Baby Hatchetface has survived another year.  A lot of people had dreams of me having an emotional breakdown, crying hysterically and shot-putting a specialty-made cake into the deep blue lake.  Naturally, I kept it together and scarfed that baby down in record time.

Here’s to another fantastic year!

The Hills are Alive!

The L and I were never able to spot the snow white rumps of the Colorado Mountain Goats so we took a picture of some of the other good stuff:

Colorado Rockies Viewpoint

This picture was taken when I was nice and calm… a few miles before little whitey started overheating near Vail. (early July, 2008)

Perspective from the Road

Another Day in Utah

On a Roll

Sweating through Nevada, crawling over Utah, chugging up Colorado, blasting through Nebraska, rolling over Iowa, billowing past Minnesota, brewing in Wisconsin.

Pictures to follow.

We need to get some high-speed internet up in here.

Garage Sales, Ghost Towns and Penny Slots

I had a yard sale and within 3 hours I had sold $177 worth of unwanted crap.  Granted, some of the items were brand-name deals but the biggest sellers, BY FAR, were the mini-plastic baggies full of hastily strung pieces of broken jewelry for $1 each.  If I were out here selling such crap every weekend, I’d be hella rich, homes.  Then again, the local gangs would most likely shake me down for a “service fee.”

In other news, Ma and I drove through the boiling Mojave, hit up a ghost town and sputtered into Las Vegas on fumes.  Despite the triple digits, we managed to score some nice deals on show tickets.  I particularly enjoyed Spamalot at the Wynn.  I tried previously appreciating Monty Python works and couldn’t get hooked.  But the third time’s a charm and I really dug the absurdity and physical comedy of the musical.  I found an amazingly stocked bead store which, bizarrely didn’t have what I was looking for, though I was compelled to make a few purchases anyway.  Ma’s poison was the slots (unusual for her overall lifestyle) and we played mainly the copper dropper pennies and a few nickel slots.  The nickels were far kinder to me and all in all I ended up $20 ahead while Ma lost about $9 on the pennies.

That means, and I’ll do the math here, that as a team we’re $11 ahead and that ain’t half bad.