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 »

Blog Entry Post

Pet peeve: Why do people redundantly call it "tuna fish?" You never hear "parrot bird" or "Cocker spaniel dog." Go »

Garfunkel and Oates

Kelly and I had a good time last night taking out two old friends for their birthdays to see Garfunkel and Oates in Tampa. I'm only familiar with the duo's songs, so it was refreshing that only maybe a third of the show consisted of music. The rest was stand up comedy, storytelling, audience interaction, and a weird extended commercial for their sponsor Monster Energy Drink, tall boys of which were being handed out for free, because that's just what my heart needs at ten o'clock at night. Go »

Pigeon Panic

Since Adrianne doesn't permit replies to her posts, I'll link it here: Poisoned pigeons fall from sky in Texarkana. The chain of events is too bizarre not to reiterate: A pigeon flew into a bank and defecated on a customer, so the bank put poisoned grain on the roof hoping to drive away the pigeons. Instead, dozens of birds flopped dead on the ground downtown – right during the city's annual festival. Go »

The Devil and David Hasselhoff

Thanks, JP. Go »

Weakened

A friend (new GOO devotee Aaron Weiss) once said he had read about a psychological study that found people don't feel like they've had a weekend if they didn't have free time on Friday night. That was my experience this weekend: At the office till eight, then sitting down with pizza and a DVD only to nod off on the couch by nine thirty. I may have woken up refreshed on Saturday morning, but there was this crushing feeling that the weekend was almost over, that sort of numbing dread you feel every Sunday night an hour before bed. Go »

Scott's Car is Dead; Long Live Scott's Van

The blue Dodge Caliber that I bought years ago has lasted through a lot. It may have suffered a flat tire at one GooCon and a window that wouldn't close at another, but the only major and long-lasting problem with it was a leaky roof. Unfortunately, I live in Florida, where half of the year sees brief but frequent thunderstorms. Go »