Cowboy Blob's Saloon and Shootin Gallery

I'm not a real Cowboy, but I play one in the movies.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006


No, I wasn't talking like a pirate; I was ralphing like one. After a few yummy rums and CF Diet Coke, I yielded to the call of the wild. Instead of shaking a T-Shirt at the weasels or giving them a raisin, my impaired judgement motivated me to sit among the ferrets, roughhouse with them, hug them, squeeze them, and call them George. In short, when I left their room, I was one itchy, wheezing, sneezing mess who couldn't take a shower fast enough.


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