Velociworld

MOBILE BAY

I was talking to Sloop Jim yesterday, chewing the fat, as they say, and he suggested we get together. I haven't been much of a blogmeeter of late, having been a drunken fool at my last two, fit company for no one except the cur by the dumpster, but I've given up these bad habits. Purged my body of paizzens! as they say. Not that I won't backslide for a price, but my number be steep.

Anyhoo, I was caressing the Mapquest, and settled on Mobile.

I like this town. Spent two weeks in flight school there in 1976, and learnt the girls call pralines praaaaaalines. Okra is okry. Those girls were hot. Dumb sexy large-tittied hotties with sweet breath and antsy britches. Not that I was the right ant, but still. And I respect them still.

And, since Bear Bryant is dead, if you have to be in Alabama, it may as well be Mobile.

Sometime in September? Works for me. Helen may or may not happen, but I'm thinking after Oktoberfest. Those people don't like me too much.

Mobile: 7 hours for Jim, 6 hours from Jax, 6 hours from Atlanta. We could stand on the deck of the USS Alabama and scream Tora! Tora! Tora! Fucking Nips.

I would not call this the Nestea Plunge, because there is little to be refreshing, but I say what the fuck? At the very least you can see me bullwhip Jim, then we all go home.

Oh. And Jim said he would bring Marcus, so I won't have to drive down to Gibbtown and purchase any circus freaks, much as we love them.