I'm Sorry, Sir, This Trip To The Woodshed Is One-Way Only

Poor Dustin didn't believe the power of Grampa Style, and by the end he was longing for the relative comfort of soiled diapers, loud wives, and second-rate ice cream. After the end of the fourth game and my fourth W, I stepped in front of him and moved my arms slightly back and forth.

"What's that?" he asked me.

"Oh, nothin'." I tells him. "Just doing a little sweeping."

67% improvement--I am nearly MEDIOCRE! I could be a triple digit average by JUNE! Go me.

99, 133, 154 (9 X X / 8 8 8 X X 9) and 107.

As a wise man once said in a drunken stupor, back up in your ass with the ressurrection.

Ambient music: Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth's "T.R.O.Y. (They Reminisce Over You)"