Shed Party no longer on my "to-do" list

Saturday was a day with no plans but big expectations. I wanted to get a ride in , I needed to put the polish on my next article for Dirt Rag, and I planned to "film" some action shots for my entry into the Team Topeak Ergon Basecamp Video contest. I had intended to get up early, but Friday night The Pie and I were trying to knock out a movie, and then we found another Charlie Sheen interview, and the next thing you know we're up till 11:30pm.

So I woke up late. Once I got the coffee going I went right to the business of knocking out the article. It took awhile, but it is done... and way too long in terms of word count. We'll see if they can run with it in its current form. Maybe they can reduce the font significantly and include a magnifying glass with the issue or perhaps just make my photo smaller (even though that's the best part of my articles).

When I went to bed Friday the rain was scheduled to fall kinda late on Saturday. When I got done writing (actually "keyboarding") I checked the current hourly forecast for the day. The rain was moving in faster than expected, and I went into panic mode. I called Stabby who was operating under the same misguided assumption that he had all day to ride. Hurried phone calls to Eric Van Driver were placed, the plan put into action, sprinkles started to fall, plans were canceled, Dopplers were scrutinized, plans put back in place, and we managed to get a ride in long before the rain fell.

I shoulda worked on the video when I got home, but I did not. Josh the Wonderboy called and invited me over for his birthday party, a "Shed Party" he called it. I knew it would be less of a party and more just sitting around drinking, but since we don't see enough of each other nowadays...

Thankfully we only drank till about midnight and only consumed an eight pound ham.

That is until these guys showed up with a liquor store's worth of bounty and dragged us out of our slumber.

Yes, they were both born around the same time that Pearl Jam was formed.

Josh's shed had all the latest in entertainment, the latest in 1990.

Those are my college lifestyle speakers replete with two 15" woofers. Put on The Final Cut and you can blow out a match with their mighty power when they "fire ze missile" at the beginning of "Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert."

Josh still has the remnants of my tape collection. At one point it swelled to 360+ tapes before The Pie pushed me into the CD era back in 1994. Slowly I let them all go as I was forced to admit they were no longer viable. Josh does not understand the word "viable."

Yngwie who?

Yngwie fuckin' Malmsteen, that's who.