The little hussy is no longer prancing around leaving little to the imagination. I call it the Lulu Lemon Effect. Much to the delight of testosterone-filled young men across the country (OK, the old guys don’t mind either), stretchy pants have become acceptable casual wear, formal wear and everything in between for young women. I’m dying to know how they wear them without ANY undergarment lines showing. I’d ask my wife, but that would be a dead giveaway that I might occasionally look. All three of my daughters pull this off, as well, but I decided I probably really don’t want to know. But know this, young men—big daddio is watching. He may not be all that big, but he’s Pitbull-mean and fights dirty. Eyes on the horizon, Bevis.
She’s still got her tramp stamp showing, however. I’m pretty sure she’s intentionally leaving the small of her back exposed, like she’s proud of her decision to deface her body for life. You’d think spending time at a waterpark would be enough to demonstrate that these things don’t end well. What she doesn’t know is that I’ve tipped off her mother. Yesterday will be the last time the base of her spine sees the light of day, unless she’s wearing a swimming suit. Which is going to be NEVER, because iceboats and swimming don’t go together.
Paul Krueger’s Class A Skeeter RAMBL’N is sporting a new coat of paint today in the traditional colors of the 4LIYC, red and white. Paul’s daughter asked Ken Whitehorse if all the recent modifications on PK’s boat would make him go “too fast”. Ken told her not to worry, he went for the pretty paint job instead of the fast one. Paul said, “We waited for a west wind so there were no complaints from the neighbor on over spray”. [Hey, there’s only one neighbor, iceboat.org headquarters!- Ed.]
Previously at the Spaight St. Syndicate
A wise visitor from the south, Skeeter Iceboat Club’s Lou Lonnecke, pays a visit to the Spaight St. Syndicate. Daniel Hearn reports:
The Old Man and the C
If they had ice in Cuba, I’m certain Earnest Hemingway would have been an ice sailor. Last Sunday I was the (not-so)-young apprentice “Mandolin,” learning from the Grand Master Lou, “Santiago” Loenneke. One of the realities of ice sailing is that you can be an old man yourself, but still the youngest guy in the room. We may be gray, but we know how to play!
Hemingway’s last major work, the novel tells the story of a battle between an aging, experienced fisherman, Santiago, and a massive marlin. Mandolin has great admiration for Santiago, but Santiago is on a bit of an unlucky streak. Kind of like getting tossed at the leeward mark on Lake Pepin last winter, but I’m not mentioning any names. Santiago eventually hooks the big one and battles the fish for three days until he is worn out and nearly delirious. That’s exactly the way Lou felt when he left the Syndicate on Sunday after battling with the top deck of my prized Madison marlin. She didn’t lay down easy, but in the end the old salt showed her who was boss. OSHA would frown upon the flattening method, but she complied, nonetheless, with 155 lbs. of movable “encouragement.”
Someday I hope my work will land in the hands of an adoring fan, who will find the creator’s signature hidden away inside a bulkhead.
Are you ready for another Spaight Street Syndicate installment? Daniel Hearn’s C Class Skeeter build enters the “sweeeet” phase. Previously at the Spaight St. Syndicate
No hemi, but all sorts of other, hopefully, go-fast stuff under the hood.
Springboard attachment brackets. Not fast if your springboard falls off. First time I ever sailed an iceboat was Donny Anderson’s Nite on Lake Kegonsa. Springboard fell off. I didn’t know there was hazing before I joined the fraternity.
I was just a skinny dad Never knew no good from bad But I knew life before I left my shop dusty Left alone with big fat fanny She was such a naughty lassie Heap big woman You made a bad boy out of me
I was focused on her bottom last night when Spotify served up a classic. Coincidence? I think not. Just me and my fat bottomed girl havin’ at it in the basement. And my wife doesn’t seem to care, unless things get too loud, but even then she just calmly asks, “can’t you do that when I’m not home?” Reasonable request. She walked in on us a couple days ago when I was nailing her with the pneumatic gun. I apologized profusely for that indiscretion, as I appreciated that it can be shocking when not expected.
Thanks for the sign, Freddie. Enjoyed your movie earlier this year. Rock on and tell my dad I miss him.
