Politics of the Business

Recently, I embarked on the great American Roadtrip. Yes, I braved the high gas prices, the stench of asphalt and the inflated cost of a Tim Horton's refillable coffee mug all in order to drive through the Northern States and Colorado. (Note to self : Tim Horton's does not exist south of the border).

My trip's plan consisted of a lot of driving to end up in a National Park outside of Denver for a few nights, and then to Victoria, also known as the 'run for the border with illegal immigrants stretch'. Herdio spent most of the trip in the wheel well, Philipe on immigration officer patrol.

In order for the rest of this to work, it is necessary to lay down some setting and atmosphere. The temperature outside is scorching, the speed limit is around 140km/h, most of the scenery is desert surrounding, there are Sturgis-bound bikers everywhere, and the girls are hot, hot, hot.

The following is a 'day-2' Blogsperience.

As I cautiously placed a foot into the steaming hot tub on the main floor of the hotel at which we were staying, I noticed my body traveling lightyears closer to heaven. My muscles, aching from the ride, one by one, began to loosen and the scalding waters ran up to happily greet them. I sat down, and rested my weary head on a comfortable leather backing. I let the jets do the work. It was like a divine massage, three beautiful women, working at loosening all the tensions in my body at once. I let my eyelids slide shut as I felt my hormones being released and my heart skip a beat. My entire body was being rubbed down. Now that I look back on the whole experience, it was not unlike an obese Chinese lady rubbing me down in a sleazy downtown massage parlor. Anyhow, the thick steam rose into my eyes and I breathed it through my nose, as the air above my head clouded over. My thighs, with the anticipation of certain love-making began to twitch and my throat let out a moan. My body convorted itself into an awkward position and my foot accidentally brushed up against a slab of fatty muscle tissue. I opened my eyes. Never before had I felt so uncomfortable to be amidst five tattooed, bandana-wearing bikers.

Notable headline seen on trip : "Mexicans sneak into U.S. unnanounced, giant sling-shot used."

Mindless garb section, RIGHT HERE!, with the joke of the day :

Drunk fuck - "A piece of rope walks into a bar-" (Pauses for mouthful of beer)

Me, impatiently - "Whammy!"

In other exciting news, happy birthday politics of the business (still relatively dung-beetle free!), who turned 1 on August 25th, 2004. Thank you, thank you. What a great honor this is, and will continue to be. Please refer to disclaimer.