Marc

Small
We've been walking around town this past weekend talking about how we're all kind of weirded out that we're all spending our first Labor Day away from home. Roomy Luke has been saying that he can remember every Labor Day he's spent with his family since birth, practically, and he just can't handle it so he's going home. Me, I was so depressed about the whole ordeal I had to turn to the bottle. Sweet salvation. We grilled out at our friends' place on Saturday night, and it was frigging sweet-ass, man. I'm telling you, these bratwurst tasted so unbelievably good, and the whole time I'm thinking, "You will never taste bratwurst this good again. Enjoy it. Make it last. Just eat slowly." And then Luke offers me the rest of his brat, and I'm in total heaven until about a half hour later when I'm so full I can't fucking breathe, or walk, or think. I just sat in a chair and stared at the horseshoe game that people were playing. Yeah. Alright.

So, I just wanted to pop in and say "hello". I'm really happy to see Zach back to his 12:something posts again. They were the heart of this 'ere BLARG about a year and a half ago. I'm always so interested in what that silly bastard has to say, I get so excited for midnights these days. Whoo!