With that out of the way, it was +4 today. It's July 28.
Kind of chilly. Twas so bad that I had to coax my testicles out of my body today with motivational slogans.
Oil Can is not impressed. He won't even talk to me.
He's sitting under a tent in front of the open oven, cranked to 450, with his hand out the flap, giving me the finger.
I tried to take advantage of the day by visiting the ice flow that's blown into the bay off the ocean.
It was really neat actually, exploring the beach, with all this washed up sea ice. I found a large chunk stranded on land and got up nice and close.
I'd say it was about 15 feet long, 12 feet wide. It was dripping like mad underneath, but I bet if I'd sat there and watched it for a day, it wouldn't have changed size in any noticeable way.
I tried to get a picture of myself on the giant ice cube, but because my camera is crap, I couldn't zoom far enough away to make it look like I was on the thing. Needless to say, Oil Can did not accompany me on the adventure to snap the shot.
Oh... he just threw a chair at me. Thing had some zip on it...
"Dayum, Oil Can. You can still bring the heat!"
Ooops, didn't like my choice of words. He just chucked a spatula at me. "... and Joe Momma...", I think he said, as he slid back into his tent.
Oh, that Oil Can... what a character.
So yeah, I was sitting on the freezing block of ice while I was trying to figure my camera out. After a few frustrating minutes, I hopped off, and now I'm convinced I gave myself hemorrhoids.
But that raised an interesting question:
How many people can say they got hemorrhoids from sitting on an iceberg before?
A privileged few, I bet.
Herbiberous
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