Worst post ever?

Sorry for the absence. As usual, my hiatus can be attributed to a combination of a busy schedule and apathy. Today's post serves no purpose other than to push the topless photo of The Strowd from the top of my site. Those desiring to see the photo again are encouraged to rethink their entire existence and scroll down about 12 to 15 inches.

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I spent 9/8 through 9/12 taking a mini-vacation to Pennsylvania with a couple of my friends. We'd originally planned to come home on Sunday 9/11 and I was planning to write a blogpost about how flying on the 10 year anniversary of the terrorists attacks represented a victory of good over evil. Sadly, some bizarre combination of weather, closed runways, and reduced air traffic requirements around Washington D.C. forced our flight to be canceled, and our trip was extended a full 24 hours.

Flying home on 9/12 doesn't seem to have much symbolism so the previously imagined blog post will continue to exist only in my mind. I have a feeling though, that the real reason my flight was scrubbed was to ensure that there were never more planes in the air at one time then could be shot down if needed. So perhaps my delayed flight was a small victory for evil over good...

Oh well. I enjoyed my extra day with Uncle Chuck and life goes on.

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HOOF ARTED

A quick note about The Strowd. Everyone that knows him will agree that he is easily excitable. One of his best qualities is his enthusiasm. In a room full of people, he laughs the loudest, cheers the hardest, &c. One of his worst qualities is his gastro-intestinal tract. The output of which should be heavily regulated by the Federal Government.

Which brings me to my point. This past weekend my parents met me in Auburn to watch the football game. After the game we headed back to the tailgate area for a little cookout. The Strowd and I generally tailgate together. He and Kelli had invited some friends to the game and they were all huddled together, while my folks and I plopped down in some chairs a (seemingly) safe distance away.

The Strowd likes my mom. She was raised Lutheran, he wants to be Lutheran. Other portions of their personalities match up quite well. So he wanders over to mingle with us. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I see him back off a good 8 to 10 steps.

Seconds later a smell so foul it could only have been produced in the depths of hell hits me full in the face. I look over at the Strowd and see that he has a look on his face like "Oh no, I shouldn't have done that." What he'd hoped would be a discreet passing of gas was actually so violent that the National Guard should've been called in.

So I'm sitting in my chair thinking, "Man, he just dropped a bomb on us!" when I hear my Mom lean over and whisper something to my Dad. Her words were choked up in a revolting gag, so I couldn't make out exactly what she said, but I heard my Dad's response, "We must be downwind of the Porta-Potties."

No Dad, you were downwind of The Strowd.

I know telling this story was in poor taste, but I had a two part agenda. I hoped that public ridicule would encourage Michael to be more careful, and I thought it was only fair to let all of our fellow Auburn fans know that the odor that permeated Auburn on Saturday night was not being generated entirely by our defense...

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Our defense does stink though.

Cya