Ever.

I’d like to wish a very Happy Birthday to Sweetbread. Be sure to wish him one as well. Because I’m about to ruin his day.

How?

Well, his beloved Everton is about to crushed under the cleats of West Brom this morning at the Hawthornes. That’s how. Sorry for ruining your birthday Sweet, but we need the win.

Now that I’ve exercised that little fantasy, I can get on with talking about other things that ultimately don’t matter. Like how I got to hang out with Shamrock and D-Man yesterday. I think we all needed a good laugh. And a cheeseburger. And whatever those little cookies were at that French bistro.

Damn.

I hear that India is changing Ganesh’s name to Ganache, because those little cookies will help you overcome any obstacles you may come across in this crazy little thing we call “Life”.

Yeah. They’re that good.

My day ended with a text message containing only this image and no explanation:

That fucking sports coat. It’ll get you into all sorts of trouble.

Today I’m going with Word to Me, Teacher Sis, and Prince Jazzbo to see our Nanny and Papa. I’m taking my camera. Only madness can happen with this crew and you can bet your ass I’ll be there with camera in hand when it does.

Time to hit the road.

See ya’ tomorrow.

More soon. ~SC