Dave from A Different Lemming, a member of the Montana Cabal, sent a couple of his “agents” to Jersey where they took photos of my house, my car and even some pictures that hang on the walls of the House by the Parkway. Invaded my privacy, they did.

I should have known something was up when I saw two guys in front of my house, who obviously were not from here. Both sported greasy mullets. One guy wore a ratty looking tee shirt on which appeared the words, “Larry’s Beef Jerky Emporium, Billings, MT” and the other wore no shirt at all, but he had a large horse’s ass tattooed on his back. They both were barefooted as they sat on the curb in front of the house picking their toes and spitting “backy” juice in the street.

They spoke very loudly so I easily overheard their conversation

:Jed: Hey Zeke, how’s she goin’?

Zeke: She’s goin’ real good, Jed. How’s she goin’?

Jed She’s goin’ real good, Zeke.

Zeke: Goin’ real good, is she?

Jed: Yep, Zeke, real good.

Zeke: It’s good when she’s goin’ real good, ain’t it Jed?

Jed: Yep, Zeke, it sure is.

Zeke: Got any beer?

Jed: Nope.

Zeke: Damn, just when she was goin’ real good too.

Jed: I know. She was goin’ real good, wasn’t she, Zeke? That’s a bitch.

Zeke: Wanna see if we can find us some horseshit to step in?

Jed: Great idea, Zeke.

As they got up and began to walk down the street in what certainly would be a futile quest for horseshit, I could still hear them talking

.Jed: Think anyone around here will know we’re from Montana?

Zeke: Nah, they only speak Eye-talian in these parts.

Jed: Oh, I forgot. How’s she goin’, Zeke?

Zeke: She’s goin’ real good, Jed. How’s she goin’?

I think the CIA could use these guys.

It was a very busy week, and I’m glad it’s over. I badly needed a cocktail when I arrived home, but what to drink? I was out of chocolate vodka, out of mango vodka and out of peach vodka (Stoli – very good). I had plenty of regular vodka, but it was not in the freezer, and the thought of straight vodka, vodka with fruit juice or even vodka with seltzer just wasn’t moving me.

Brown whiskey? I have an ample supply of that, but it seemed too warm for bourbon, and scotch hasn’t been my drink of choice for quite some time. Hell, I needed a garden-watering drink. I assume everyone waters the garden while drinking a cocktail. No? What is wrong with you? It’s most civilized.

I started pushing bottles in the liquor closet around until I spotted a bottle of Kahlua. Oh, yes! Black Russians. Absolutely.

I grabbed an On-the-Rocks glass (a nice size – not one of those bullshit glasses you get in a cheap saloon when you order something “On the Rocks”.) and filled it with, yes, CLEAR ice. Dribbled Ketel One Vodka over the ice until the glass was 2/3 full. Then, I added the Kahlua until the drink was just the right color. (Free pour and eyeball, Peeps. Measuring is for amateurs.). The appearance of the drink should fall somewhere on the spectrum between slightly watery Coke (vodka heavy) to iced coffee (Kahlua heavy). I opted for something in between.

I washed a couple of those down (one while watering Mr. Garden) and had another while da Boigers were grillin’. Sah-WEET!

The bad news is that I don’t feel much like blogging.

The good news is that I don’t feel much like blogging.

I think that I shall read a while, watch some tube and be most grateful that it’s Friday.

Update: I thought I had posted this at about 9 p.m. Obviously, I clicked the wrong button. Good thing I wasn’t doing surgery or packing parachutes. Damned Black Russians!