DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS
Hey y’all– I’m coming to you live from a hotel in downtown San Antonio. I have not left the hotel since I’ve arrived, but I’m told the River Walk is nice. Maybe I’ll see it.
I’m moderately ashamed of myself, as I ditched my cowboy boots in DC in exchange for fitting the work projector in my suitcase, as promised. Do you think I’ll be shamed out of the state in my Toms? Maybe. On the bright side, the hotel conditioner is sub-par, so I’ve got really really big hair today. That’s a step in the right Texas direction.
WE’RE THE WHITE TRASH HOUSE ON THE LEFT
For whatever reason, we’ve decided we don’t like our backyard. It’s a perfectly fine backyard, but we have started wheeling the grill to the front of the house and posting up like we’re scoping out the freshmen on move-in day. I’m just waiting for the boys to install a rusted bench press machine.
We had a cookout at the house Saturday afternoon– our chairs in a circle, the grill smoking on the sidewalk, music blasting, beer and hotdogs in hand. All of the dudes had either taken their shirts off (sun’s out, fat’s…I mean gun’s out) or were rocking t-shirts with the shirt sleeves off.
Like I said, we’re the classiest crew on the block. And I assume arranged in this fashion on Saturday afternoons for the remainder of the summer– so if you see us, stop by for a beer.
AS LONG AS
We were housesitting the oldest black lab ever this weekend. I adore Rowdy and would be very pleased to big spoon him if he could make it up the stairs to my bedroom, but also petrified that he’ll drop dead when we’re in charge.
Watching him sit down or walk up stairs is like watching your grandfather get off the couch– slow, painful and arthritic looking. But sure as shit, the postman showed up and sparked something in Rowdy– he barked and came alive like we’d never seen before. Good dog. She never brings us anything but junk anyways.
Hope y’all had a good weekend. And if you’ve got any good recommendations for what to do in San Antonio, shoot me an e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org. Or you can Tweet at me @dointhegrownup. Or send an owl. I’ll be here, hollering about how I voted for Obama, until Friday.