perhaps a bit early in the morning…

but a bidness trip means a bidness drink

doctor whiskey…

he's not just for breakfast anymore.

—the bastard

its go time…

well my bag is packed…

the gear is charging…

the bastard lies in wait…

like a caged animal.

ready for the big show.

wondering what mayhem will be wrought…

wondering if I will punch the toddler if I see him…

and if the bastard will have enough for bail money after the craps tables bleed him dry.

6 and 8 are great…

whoa peaches…

pants are off…

it's go time…

geronimo

—the bastard

and 400,000 pages later…

the gun show is next weekend

time to tie up loose ends.

this will be less easy than it has been before.

so much to do.

and so much bad timing.

the bastard wonders of he'll ever not have to work on work after he gets home from work again.

so tired.

but I had some dope ass gnocchi for dinner and that has to count for something.

— the bastard

…on the pile

with over a week off,

and a little over 2 weeks until the gun show,

the bastard has to hit to workload in earnest now.

I have to get it all done before the big shoe.

I hope I never get dead.

but I might.

—the bastard