Tough Times in the Bungle Bullpen

I always try not to post about posting, because that's a sure sign you got nothing to say. I mean, you don't see Picasso painting about painting, do you?*

Oh, you do? The discussion and exploration of the struggle to create is a viable form of expression? Cool.

So I will post briefly about posting, or rather lack of posting. If nothing else, I want to say that I am aware that the rate of postage has decreased around here and that I don't like it. We pride ourselves on bringing pro-level content to the masses four or five times a week, and lately it's like one or two.

But it's tough. This might just be how it is from now on. I'm getting up earlier, which means I'm going to bed earlier, so I don't have those half-asleep midnight to three a.m. creative jags when the content seems to be oozing out of every orafice. I just get an hour here, an hour there.

Like I have half a post for "High Socks and Short Shorts" done, but I can't bring myself to finish it. Teaser: Steve Stipanovich figures prominently.

We'll see what happens, but in the meantime, please remember that we always welcome fresh content from you, the loyal readers. And you too.

PBdotC has the idea; he's busted out with a fine recap of Sunday night's softball extravaganza. Sounds like fun.

As to the scoring for highschoolfuckupdat, D. Lee gets 6 points for "cut school" and "talk back to teacher," although I am tempted to dock him a couple for his third suggestion, "jerking off in bathroom." Damn, I didn't even take a piss in the bathroom in high school, let alone stroke the pole. What kind of a freak do you think I am? Anyway, three points for cut school (any number of occasions) and three points for talking back to a teacher (I called him an asshole for not letting me onto the elevator with a bum foot).

Deion also mentions the trip out to deep Brooklyn that we took to give late homework assignments to our Biology teacher. I'm not sure if a phone call home prompted this mission, but it may have, so I'm giving him the points as well.

A lot of other good guesses, many of which I actually did, but none of which I was officially parent-call busted for. Also some freaky guesses. Thanks for playing. The other answer we were looking for was playing blackjack in Latin class, or rather refusing to stop playing blackjack in Latin class when the teacher requested we do so. That was a bad day. I'll tell you the details the next time we go over to Mickey's for Happy Hour.

It's been a while since we've highlighted this note from my old neighbor Jurgen. It brings to mind another story related to drunken 4am nights and angry notes. I love those kinds of stories, don't you? In this story, a bunch of college friends went back to Madison to visit our old buddy Scott, who was doing his residency or whatever after Med School. We were staying at his apartment, and when we came back from the bars we decided to hold an impromptu but officially sanctioned Wrestlemania event on his living room carpet. Apparently this didn't sit well with his (elderly) downstairs neighbors, because when we awoke the next afternoon, there was a letter under the door from Scott's landlord alerting us to the inappropriateness of our behavior. The letter was actually a threatening legal document. For ten points, what type of notice did Scott receive? Note: it was probably not the correct document, but it worked: we didn't wrestle the next night.

* Yeah you damn right I just compared myself to Picasso