Crap, I feel like we’ve been transported back to Texas.  Actually, it was a lot hotter for a lot longer down there, but this still sucks.  Turns out that poor ol’ Gabe isn’t too heat tolerant either, but he doesn’t seem to know it.  He’ll run himself into the ground, so we have to keep an eye on him.

Not too much went on this weekend.  The entire weekend was irreparably damaged by work.  Oh well, it happens.   Gotta pay the bills.  If I wasn’t working, I was laying on the couch wrapped up in the “Good Times” marathon.  I’m sure everybody else watched that too, huh?  Oh yeah, back-to-back-to-back Good Times episodes, 24 hours a day.  Doesn’t get much better than that.  Andy Griffith Show maybe.

As far as entertainment goes, I went to the ‘Sider for a few hours Friday night.  It was too hot to sit out on the deck though so I didn’t stay long.  Saturday afternoon I went to lunch out in Kansas with Munkirs, if you want to put that in the entertainment category.  Not a whole lot of verbiage during the meal, but the burrito was excellent.  Actually I can recall the entire conversation, which I shall relate for those not fortunate enough to attend:
James:  “Float Trip is pretty late next year.”
Phil:  “Yeah it is.  But the American Royal BBQ is the same weekend as last year.”
James:  “mmmm hmmmm.  Might get some new hiking boots for it this year.”
Phil:  “Yep.”
After that I tried to go to a party over at Susan’s, but didn’t stay long.  I think I had some kind of social panic attack and had to leave after about 10 minutes.  I had to go in to work at midnight anyway, so it probably was for the best.

Sunday was just a blur of “Good Times” episodes in between conference calls.  Never did get the stupid lawn mowed either.  I am trying to just let it go until Wednesday when it is supposed to cool off a bit.  I’m in no condition to be out in this heat.  Did everyone read the article in the paper this weekend about the Pitbull Rescue?  It’s a pretty good article.  Gabe came from the MPR; they’s good peoples.  I also read this joke in the paper this weekend, which I got a guffaw out of… I don’t know why.  One of my favorite jokes is the “Frayed Knot” one, so I guess this falls along those lines.  If I was any good at joke-telling I could take this one to the Brooksider.  But I’m not.

A guy and his pet newt walk into a bar.

The bartender asks, “What’s that thing on your shoulder?”

The guy says, “Oh, well he’s my pet.  His name is Tiny.”

The bartender asks, “Why’d you name him that?”

And the guy replies, “Because he’s my newt!”

BAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!!!!!  “MY NEWT”.  Whew, that slays me.