Bambi: Harshing my mellow.
I WILL KILL HIM!
Or his mom.
Or his sister.
I have decided not to cut my hair until I murder bambi or one of his relatives.
Showering, on the other hand, I will still be doing 3 times a day. I’m not a damned hippie.
Monday 12 Nov 2007
I used to go deer hunting every year with friends. The standing rule was that if you even thought about shooting a deer, you would not be invited back ever again.
Got to the point where I’d forget to bring a hunting license, camies, or even my rifle. The card games, drinking, dirtylegs, and food was that damn good.
I do love a good hunting trip.
I hope to acheive that level of hunting someday, Dick. For now, I just want MEAT.
Well, if you can’t hit Bambi with your rifle, you can always collapse the temple down on top of him, can’t you.
The truly sad thing is all the venison I saw spoiling on the road to Bloomington last night.
Gee. That means it’ll be — what? — a quarter-inch long next we see you?
::ggg::
M
Hey, I haven’t cut it since a month before I saw you last.
Ruh-ro! Shaggy-do!
M
I’m going for the Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Circus look, but I suspect I’ll end up more like Shaggy.
I have faith in your skills, or the stupidity of deer, take your pick.
My next time is this Friday afternoon. Should spend a couple of hours in a stand in that controlled space.
Now if I can coax some does into the kill zone.
What really tickles my fancy is I’m with a 100 yards of a really high dollar home on the north edge of a metro area.