There has to be a corny sexual position that nobody actually does (like Dirty Sanchez) named after that man.

The rest of my trip is over and was richly enjoyed. We skipped Fearless in favor of playing Playstation games and scarfing down Chinese food while talking at length about the goo game and how it could be better. Matt's cousin Scott Pugely (also a site user like aforementioned Ryan Orsucci and Kevin Fiore) arrived for the Packers game, which was a major loss but grimly anticipated well in advance, and Mario Party. Scott's a good guy; I hope to see him again next time. After more Playstation Risk in the morning, I took off for my flight, and had a much better experience with Delta this time. They may have cut it very close with the Atlanta connection yet again, but this time a flight attendant set aside two empty seats in the back for me, put up the armrest, and handed me a seat belt extension. Considering how much pain I was still in from the puddle-jumper flight I had just endured, I wasn't in the mood to be modest, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the most comfortable and pleasant flight I've had in years, even better than flying business-class like I usually do. For the first time I can remember, I wasn't clawing at my own face to relieve the pain of being crammed into a lilliputian seat. Thank you Delta!

And thank you Matt for being an awesome host. This is just the weekend trip I needed to force myself to rest and have fun. Pictures are coming.


One Reply to Bubba Franks! Bubba Franks, Y'all

Kris Weberg | October 18, 2006
I believe a "Bubba Franks" occurs when the penetrating partner does a full backflip without leaving the orifice in question.


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

Blood Lines

A few weeks ago, I dropped a glass bottle of salad dressing on the kitchen floor, making the house smell like vinaigrette for a day. Today, I stepped on the last errant bit of glass hiding in a crack of tile by the corner. Better my foot than the cat's paw, I guess; I don't lick between my toes. Go »

That's All I Have to Say About That

Remember those somber anti-piracy messages before theatrical movies a couple of years ago? Like the near-weepy set painter whose wife and kids were going to live in the poorhouse if you illegally downloaded The Big Chill? They must have had an effect on me, because instead of sadness or sympathy, they were all I could think about when I read that the make-up artist for Forrest Gump killed herself and her husband. Go »

Falling Snow

It was twenty years ago today that my father passed away. I almost didn't write something today, because I don't feel particularly creative enough at the moment to do his memory justice. But a plain remembrance is better than none at all, and besides, he's been on my mind a lot this week. Go »

Captain's Compromise

I think a lot (too much maybe) about morality in storytelling. Anybody keeping up with The MCU Project might be getting tired of my complaints about how little thought the writers of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. put into this important part of their job. Go »

Illinois, October 2012

Our road trip to see friends and family in Illinois was well worth it. The drive both ways was pleasant. I indulged in junk food like a man taking a break from six months of dieting (since my post-Atkins diet started in June, I've lost 50 pounds). Go »

Heart Burn

The recurring pericarditis that I mentioned elsewhere is now believed by my primary-care doctor to be heartburn or possibly an ulcer. The latter explanation is possible I suppose, but I'm skeptical about the former since it feels less like an acidic burning than like a sharp localized lower-chest pain such as a knife wound or bullet wound. Either way, it still keeps occurring every few weeks, it still hurts like a son of a bitch and keeps me awake all night, and I'm way beyond sick of it happening. Go »