But first, some housekeeping. Ryan, I’d make fun of you for your delicate nature and propensity towards injury, but then someone might point out that I hurt my back last summer merely bending down to water the tomato plants. So, no fun-poking here; heal up!
Re Kevin’s latest, if that’s an indication of the level of smartassery to come, well, I fear for the future of our blog as it degenerates into something staid and serious and chock full o’ workout recaps. Faithful readers, I’ll do my best to rail against this sorry fate.
Speaking of faithful readers, here’s my idea: it occurs to me that since our fan base can’t leave comments, we (meaning I) are potentially missing out on all sorts of things, including calls from agents frantic to book this kind of never-seen-before talent, contact from people who want to shower us (me) with shiny things and trips to St. Lucia, accolades from heads of state, invitations to tea with the Queen, our (my) profile on trading cards, offers to appear on Hollywood Squares, mentions in crossword puzzles, marriage proposals galore, and so on. Oh, and I’m sure there are even potential 2-for-1 pizza coupons for my compatriots, perhaps even discounted rates from counselors eager to get their hands on the anal-retentive mind that is Ryan Perrone. Well, and of course this’ll hopefully make it easier for Kevin’s Kazakh groupies to find him. I think they’ve heard the rumors as to what swimsuit style Kev will be sporting, and are all in a tizzy. Who wouldn’t be?
Chuck, aka Captain Stubing and the erstwhile man-in-charge of this seemingly doomed voyage, what do you say? Perhaps some links so that the adoring masses can get in touch with our merry horde? I would imagine that by now, the pressure of being unable to contact us is causing many people to reach their boiling point. And we all know what happens then……
(random picture of cooling tower which has nothing to do with nuclear power plant meltdowns though they always portray it that way on the news)