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This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 26th, 2020 at 8:45 am and is filed under circus of life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
Wednesday weirdness
bluebird of bitterness
The opinions expressed are those of the author. You go get your own opinions.
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Home sweet home
Bob's sister Hannah
Bob's sister Ada
Bob's brother Otto
Bob's sister Eve
Bob's sister Nan
A baby picture of Bob and his siblings (clockwise from upper left: Otto, Eve, Hannah, Ada, Bob, and Nan)
Bob's childhood home
Bob's mom and dad
Bob in his youth
Bob's cousin Alphonse
Bob's Uncle Ralph and Aunt Edna
Bob's cousin Archibald
Bob's stepbrother Herbie (who really needs to quit smoking)
Bob's cousin Chester
Bob's Great Uncle Norbert and Great Aunt Phyllis
Bob's cousin Saffron (who will do anything for a drink)
Bob's cousin Thorndike
Bob's brother-in-law Vinnie
Bob's cousin Orville, who loves the Green Bay Packers
Bob's nieces Lulu and Bitsy, the biker chicks
Bob's stepsister Eloise, with the twins, Rudy and Trudy
Bob's Uncle Henry and Aunt Rowena
Bob's niece Esmerelda (who likes to live dangerously)
Bob's Great Uncle Arthur up in Saskatchewan
Bob's cousin Louie, the grackle of grumpiness
Miss Screech, Bob's journalism teacher
Bob's nephew Winthrop, who loves sports
Bob's Uncle Seymour and Aunt Bernice
Bob's second cousin Schlomo in Brooklyn
Bob's nephew Baxter
Bob's cousin Darrell
Nigel, Bob's pen pal in New Zealand
Bob's sister-in-law Delphine, who volunteers at the animal shelter
Percy the Pickpocket, Bob's third cousin once removed (the relative no one likes to talk about... every family has one)
The Bluebird of Happinessâ„¢ (no relation to Bob)
A pair of boobies (also no relation to Bob, but included for readers who desire titillation)
A pair of tits (in case the boobies were insufficiently titillating)
Bluebird Bitterâ„¢, the beer they named for Bob
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bluebird of bitterness 
I hope he’s not a “cat burglar.” They’d never catch him. 🙂
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When I took rock climbing in college back in the late 70s, Tobin Sorenson was attending the same college. He was walking by the building we were struggling to climb in his Birkenstocks. He CAUSALLY “waked” up the side of the building, back down, up again, back down and then on his way to class. It was incredible.
He died in a climbing accident in October 1980. I remember the news because he was dating a friend of a friend at the time.
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1) must be in perfect shape, fisically fit and lean and mean.
2) must have a really, really good pair of sneakers or other footwear that has excellent traction. Dirty sneakers need not apply.
3) must have good balance and vision.
3 strkes. I’m out!
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I, too, was thinking about the sneakers!
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This makes my hands hurt! Amazing, it’s like they are lighter than air!
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Picture yourself as a police officer chasing someone.
And they did some of this stuff.
Now, picture yourself trying to write up the report for your supervisor!
Enough to make you want to climb walls, eh?
– MJM, who’ll now make a valiant effort to climb onto his couch…
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Michaeljmcfadden, think: taser…
That stops spiderman cold.
“Ride the lightning, Mr. Perp!”
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Good point!
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That was … exhausting! 😀
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Reminds me of a rope-climbing gym class in ’58 – I got to the top of a 30 ft rope, and clung there, just observing everyone down below, until the gym teacher yelled, “Julie – come down, NOW!” The grade was worth it, so I did. Never tried climbing walls, though. These guys are awesome!
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LOL! I was never a sportster, but I could climb ropes like a monkey because I weighed next to nothing and had good strong arms.
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