The strike is on, y'all.
Come on gals, put on that ball gown, spit shine that tiara and polish up those spike heeled bowling shoes.
Come on guys, practice your swagger, let the testosterone flow and don't forget to manscape your porn stache.
For the more religious, pray to crazy Dianna, goddess of the hunt to help you locate Theseus and drag his ass out of the labyrinth for the biggest Gutter Guzzler Asheville's ever seen.
If your god is more mod and doesn't go in for the striking of the helpless pins, come on out, chug some ambrosia and document the sins of your compatriots.
Let the games begin!
4 comments:
O, you are so clever, Jim.
See you there.
I'm trying to talk Restless Mama into coming as well, so we'll have a quorum of Hot Moms.
Whether I make it or not (the jury in my head is still out, but leaning bowlingwards,) I would like to offer this musical moment.
The more hot moms the better, of course.
Fliss, come. Come on.
And, all you other bloggers gracing the blogroll, if you've been lurking, waiting for an opportune moment, know that the Sky Lanes' ambience and je ne sais quoi are unrivaled.
I want to meet Thunder Pig and the High Country Conservative especially.
Also, there's big news'a'brewin' that Edgy Mama and I are rolling out to those who attend. First come, first served.
Lastly, I'll buy a beer for anyone who can best me. I'm bringing my A-game, all y'all pretenders just step back.
yer on, screwy!
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