Pat yourself on the back for reading this post. It will do you good.
We went to the in-laws' place today. Anna and her dad fed the horses some corn stalks. We ate leftover meatloaf. Anna and I went fishing. It started raining. We went inside. It stopped raining. We left.
I think Anna got some good pictures of a watersnake while we were fishing. Maybe she'll put them on facebook.
Tomorrow is Anna's paternal grandmother's birthday. We're going to surprise her by going to her church in the morning and then bring her back to the parental's. Yippee.
I made the bed all pretty like today. I know. I'm awesome. I watch HGTV. Not really.
The Rockies are currently demolishing the Giants. But where were all these runs last night?
There's this little pizza place here called Mancino's. It's good. I picked up some pizza for us tonight. We ate it. We're currently digesting it.
I've never understood these yogurt commercials and this obsession with "regularity." I asked Anna what the heck they were talking about, and she said it had to do with pooping. Why do women need yogurt to poop? I'm pretty sure women pooped before yogurt was invented.
Anna thinks that I should get a bunch of country music to sing along with, to practice my ability to match pitch. Male country singers tend to sing in a much lower range than any other male contemporary musicians. She has me sing along with the radio all the time, and if the guy is singing really high, she has me sing an octave down. I sound like an impaled moose. I can tell when I'm matching pitch, but I can't ever tell when I'm matching at an octave. It's awful.
I don't know why Anna stays married to me. I smell bad, and I can't sing. What is there to like?
I should probably shower tonight, and I might even shave too. I'm not sure why I avoid shaving so much. I guess it just takes time to use a standard razor, and an electric razor just doesn't do much.
I'm wearing blue boxers covered in images of Tazmanian Devil boxers. I might need to trade these in soon. I think there might be some holes devoloping along the butt-crack seam.
Chief is trying to catch my left arm while I type. Earlier he jumped up on the chair and scratch my back. I might have bled. I can't see it. He probably misses his new friend, Melissa.
I neglected to mention this yesterday, but on their way back from the outlets, Anna and Melissa were pulled over by not one but two police officers. They first officer apparently informed them that Melissa's car matched the description of one seen fleeing a jewelry store robbery. Anna tells me that Melissa was terrified and kept insisting that they could search her car. I guess the officers discussed the situation for several minutes before they finally came back and said that in fact Melissa's car did not match the description of the crime scene car.
My wife is a hardened criminal.
So I'm reading this book, "Midnight's Children." It's enjoyable, but I realized the other day that I had been working on the thing for over two weeks. I just can't seem to make much progress. I think when I finish this post I'll go take a shower, shave, and then try to put a dent in that book.
Anna's mom got a little deep fryer. I'm excited about it. Just think of all the foods I can improve upon with a little deep fat frying. Mmmmmmm. I should try to make some deep fried bacon.
I like Anna.
I like root beer.
I had some root beer.
Maybe Anna will want to come read with me after my shower.
I really don't want to take a shower.
Quick, think of something for me to write about so I can put off taking this shower.
Oh well.
Shower time.
Naked Hehoff time.
Who knows what undergarments I may or may not select post shower.
Goodnight cruel world.
This is our 100th post saying, "Farewell."
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