Pig Writes:

All this talk going around about passion has gotten me thinking. (Well actually it was after Rainman asked me to write a post on it) I never realized before how my passion runs deep for many things in my life. Call me a passionate pig if you will. It’s like Rainman described in his previous post – having passion does give us the drive to strive in our lives. PASSION = MOTIVATION, it is what makes us who we are.

You all know that I have a real passion for BEER. Store bought, home brewed,even other peoples beer, it’s all good! Oh my, my, that all grain elixir, carefully crafted and artistic finished is just heaven in a glass. And beer does so many wonderful things for me too. Beer teaches me how to dance with the ladies, it’s been doing that for years. I’ve been known to cut a really cool rug or two when I’ve had a few beers.

Beer feeds me – there is nothing like an liquid all-grain diet. Don’t believe me? Well then just take one look at my belly. Beer makes me grow tall, I’ve been known to grow as much as 6 feet tall and become bullet proof. Lets not forget that beer is always good with chili-dogs too.

Last but not least, when you have a proper passion for beer, you always have good friends around.

Another passion I have is for single women. I’ve always enjoyed a soft woman who gives me lots of hugs and kisses. Nothing finer than a hot dame with lots of curves to make life interesting. There is one problem with having all that passion for women.

Will you marry me?

With all that loving, all they want (or expect) to do is get married. WRONG, STOP, NO WAY this Pig doesn’t go there. Just get that idea out of your head.

Another passion I have is riding motorcycles (duh, biker pig). Hitting the open road with not a care in the world. There is always new adventure awaiting me over the next hilltop as I am always meeting new people – seeing places I have never seen before and I love returning to old favorites.

Do you know what else I have a passion for? Yeap, that’s right, Cheetos. Man I love those things. I can eat them all day and all night if I had the chance too. Those crunchy little puffs of processed, bad for your health, addicting remnants of food particles all covered in powered cheese. Why the mere thought of spending time in jail and not being able to eat Cheetos all day is enough to make me behave myself.

Image via Wikipedia

Can one passion can fuel another passion completely unrelated? Oh you bet it can. With each adventure we discover we learn to grow

But what if someone has no passion? What is their particular drive? Well, to be honest, I don’t see them having any drive. Without drive, you really have no purpose if life. Stuck living the boring life of a couch potato, watching that idiot box they call television, all the while wishing you had someone else lifestyle.

Lack of passion equals a lack of motivation to improve your quality of life. Having passion is important, it is good for the soul. You feed from it, grow from it. Passion can bring you joy in your life. But you have to be careful with passion. Too much passion for beer and those ladies I dance with become MARRIED ladies with pissed off husbands – with guns even. Too much passion can rob you of wealth or health as it can also be damaging to relationships in your life. So always remember you have to keep your passion balanced.

Yes, I am a beer drinking, hot women chasing, motorcycle riding, Cheetos eating oinker of a pig. Yeah, OK, so what if I go a little overboard sometimes. It only means that I have passion for those things and I try to live each day to its fullest. But, you know what? If I can make just one person laugh, or at least put a smile on their face during the day, then life is all worthwhile to me

Go do something passionate today.

Ride HARD or Stay Home

Pig

]]> http://pigspage.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/pigs-passion/feed/ 0 pig01 Pig Pig and friend Pig and his chili dogs Watch out ladies Megan English: Cropped by : Fourohfour, to remove ir... Devil's Marbleyard: Pig http://pigspage.wordpress.com/2012/02/22/stop-me/ http://pigspage.wordpress.com/2012/02/22/stop-me/#comments Wed, 22 Feb 2012 01:56:23 +0000 Ray Meinhardt http://pigspage.wordpress.com/?p=159 ]]> Stop me if you’ve heard this one before

Pig Writes:

Do you know the difference between a fairy tale and a Texas tale?

A fairy tale starts out: Once upon a time….

A Texas tale starts out: You ain’t gonna believe this but….

Well, you ain’t gonna believe this but….

A Pig walks into a strip club

He shimmy’s up to the bar to order a beer.

The bartender says to the Pig “We don’t serve pigs in here”

“That’s good”, says the Pig, “cause I don’t want any pig, but I will take a beer.”

Enraged, the bartender shouts at the pig “I said we don’t serve pigs in here.”

“That’s fine”, shouts the Pig back, “but I’ll take a beer and that fish taco up on stage.”

To make a long story short, they used my head as a battering ram to open the door.

Ride HARD or Stay Home.

Well, as you already have read on my previous post, Rainman and I attended a Super Bowl Party with the wounded warriors hosted by the Wounded warriors Roadtrip Network. While we were there, I was having a great time meeting all those warriors, however, I was still on a mission of my own that night. I had a new pick-up line to try out with the ladies (check out my last post: Words out of my mouth). I played it cool at first while I scanned the crowd for a few potential targets. I used my time wisely by tossing back a couple glasses of liquid courage along with the warriors.

I was a pig on the prowl, checking to see who was available and what my chances could be. I had to be careful in the selection process. After all, when it comes to the hot steamy love side of me – everything has to be perfect. My reputation as a lady killer must always remain high. I had everything going in my favor, devilishly handsome, very Sauvé and Rainman’s credit card in my pocket.

I decided Megan, our waitress, was the one I wanted. I saw her at the bar picking up an order. This was my chance, my one shot at ultimate glory. I jumped down from our table, headed over to her and shimmed up onto the bar. I wasted no time in bringing home a solid delivery.

“Hi Megan”
“Is there something I can help you with sir?
Yeah, answer me this. On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
“Huh, what?”
I repeated my line once more; “on a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”
“Ahh, I don’t think so, thanks anyway.”

Will you marry me?

Shot down and rejected, I was crushed so bad, I felt my chin drag across the bar. I looked back at the table. The warriors watching gave me (3) eights on my performance.

Hmmmm, this is no time to give up. I had my reputation at stake; I could not be a failure in front of those warriors, they were depending on me. I think they needed to see me score as much as I needed to score. I rolled up my sleeves to get this job done and spotted my next target. (Big Duke Six, Big Duke Six, we have acquired target bearing two niner zero. One hot brunette, get your people back and your heads down. She is all mine!) I slid down the bar to where she was standing doing an interview with one of the patrons.  When I first spotted her I didn’t realize she was a news reporter working on a story. She turned to me, smiled and said “Hello”.   I smiled back, ready to try my line on the news reporter.
Cherie stuck her microphone in my face and asked me what I thought of the party?    I responded “On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”
She said “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”
I repeated my line, only this time I said the line while I gave her my devilish grin. I could see out of the corner of my eye the little red light on the camera shaking from the cameraman laughing at me.

“Oh Hell No” she said, smacking me across the bar with her microphone.
I picked myself up off the bar and dusted off, “Damm it, that sucked” I said to no one in particular. I looked back over to the warriors, this time the judging warriors gave me a seven, eight, and a seven. (Ahh Big Duke, I may have a tail fire here, I took some heavy fire on that last pass) I refused to give it up. Failure is not an option for me, I gave it one more try.

I went over to Jennifer. This time I pulled out all the stops, there would be no holding back this time. I decided to use my best impersonation of Meatloaf in the delivery.
“Hey Jennifer, on a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”
There was no answer. She just looked at me. So just in case she didn’t hear me the first time, I repeated myself.

She never said one word to me.

(Mayday, Mayday, Big Duke, We are going down, repeat, we are going down!)

Even though, as I walked back to the table, my score improved when I received (3) tens from the judges. I came to terms that I needed to come up with a new pick-up line. I tilted back another cold one to drown the burning flames in my heart. Our waitress Megan came by to see if she could bring us another round. She saw how hurt I was and gave me a quick hug. Feeling better, I asked her if that meant I still had a chance with her. “Forget it Pig Boy, You blew it with that corny line of yours. Work on it and then we will see. She trotted away to get us another round, I turned to the boys and gave them a thumbs up!.  They in turn,   smiled back and gave me three thumbs down.

Oh don’t worry, I’ll be fine, Megan did give me a kiss goodnight when I left the bar.

Did you hear it? Say it one more time
“Paaaassssiiiioooonnnn”.
I know you heard it just then – that still small voice inside your head that just said “wow, what a cool word”.

I started this blog post early this morning about 6:30 AM. I just finished my work-out at the gym. I was relaxing in the hot tub stretching my achy muscles when I looked over on the wall when I saw one of those motivational posters. You’ve seen them before, the one with the perfectly shaped model standing there all sweaty from working out. As you look at the poster you cannot find anything wrong with the models body and on the top of the poster it said “PASSION”.

Of course the message from the poster was saying “To have a perfect body, you need to have the passion to work for it.

Say it with me again. “Paaaassssssssiiiioooonnnn”.

But what is passion?
Webster dictionary defines it as: passion
1. ardent love or affection
2. intense sexual love
3. a strong affection or enthusiasm for an object, concept, etc
4. any strongly felt emotion, such as love, hate, envy, etc

For the work-out poster I’ll go with the “intense” “and enthusiasm” definitions.

You could say I have a passion of chocolate ice cream since I could use to lose a few pounds. Oh that rich and creamy delight, I can just taste it now. And that is why I need to be in the gym at 6:30 in the morning.

Can someone have more than one passion? Sure, you can have as many passions as you want. Passions come in many wants and desires.

What do you have a passion for?

Oh course when you say the word “Passion” most people immediately think of two lovers intertwined as one. But passion means more than just hot steamy romance. People are often described as passionate, like how a mother can have passion when she cooks for her family. It makes her happy knowing in her heart that they are fed well, loved and cared for.

What drives our passion? Why do we even have, or don’t have passion? I say our passion comes from our heart and the love we have for something in particular.

Earlier I said I have a passion for chocolate ice cream, it’s true, I do. But I also have a passion for something else. Freedom.

The freedom I feel inside when I ride on two wheels with the wind in my hair. The freedom I enjoy as I sit in front of my keyboard writing these words. Those are just two things that drives my passion.

What is your passion? Is it writing, music, love or another form of expression? Does your passion engulf you, feed you, does it make you whole? Does your passion spread to others like wildfire through dry grass? Or does your passion just sit there and fizzle out?

I have a friendly challenge for you. I say next Friday February 24, 2012 everyone writes a blog page about what their particular passion is. In 100 words or less describe what drives you, what is it that makes you whole and post it on your blog page.

Why? I would love to see how many pages we can get posted out there on the web. Are you up for the challenge? Come on, I know you can do this. Let’s meet back here next Friday

Don’t have a blog page but still want to participate? Just e-mail me at pig8080@LIVE.COM your entry and I’ll post it for you. It’s time to get those creative juices flowing.
I’ll see you here next Friday.

Ray

Pig writes:
Passion, I’ll tell you what I have a passion for, it’s for someone to bring me another cold beer. Make it a six-pack while your at it. All this passion around here is making me thirsty.

Ride Hard or Stay Home
Pig

As a writer, I am always looking for new inspiration to write or blog about.  And last weeks Super Bowl Sunday looked like it had a strong possibility for some fresh and new ideas.  While everyone else would be writing or commenting on things like which team had the most first downs or Madonna’s performance during the half-time show, I decided I would go a different route this year.  Pig & I attended the Super Bowl party over at the Long Bar hosted by the Warriors Roadtrip Network for our wounded warriors. 

Being a Biker, I have always been a patriot of our country, a supporter of our military, and I always wear our nation’s colors with pride.  As Pig & I made ourselves at home at the party, it was easy to talk with our wounded warriors.  Of course with Pig hanging around, it’s not hard to start mingling with people you don’t know.  Pig makes a great ice breaker when you have him sitting on your shoulder as most people open up with “What’s up with the pig?”

It became an honor to be able to sit & spend some time with some real life, true American heroes.  

Heroes like Dwayne.

Dwayne served 26 years in the intelligence division of the USFA.  He couldn’t tell me about the secret missions he was on during his career; he just said that he was mostly TDY out of Tinker AFB.  Dwayne now suffers from a disincarnating disk in his back which causes pinched nerves in his back.  This condition makes it hard for him to stand or sit for long period of time and is a result of his time served in the military.  In his retired life before his lungs gave out, Dwayne worked as a patriotic clown doing shows wherever and was once on the Tony Orlando show in Branson MO.  We were blessed to have Dwayne recite the Pledge of Allegiance for us.  He recited it the way that Red Skelton used to, making it personal and full of meaning.

Then there was the young lady I met, she still serves in the army after her husband was wounded in Iraq 2 years ago, recovered from his injuries, and went to Afghanistan for a tour… only to be KIA over there.

I met a couple of soldiers who walked with limps and I met several who didn’t seem to have anything wrong with them at all (on the outside).  But on the inside, their minds have to deal with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (P.T.S.D.) every single day

I guess what really brought the war home to me is when I met a young man in his mid twenties by the name of Mario.  Mario was on tour in Afghanistan when the vehicle he was riding in was blown up by an I.E.D.  As a result of the explosion, he lost his right eye and right arm, his left hand has only two little nubs left for fingers and his face and arms are covered in burn scars.  Although permanently disabled, for Mario, everyday is a blessing to cherish.

As I sat there with those soldiers I learned a few things about them other than just their injuries.  You may not have noticed but we have all seen them before.  The older guys, well, they are the ones who live just a few blocks away from your house.  The younger ones are not only our sons and our daughters; but they grew up as the kid down the street from our homes.  You remember them from when we watched them play sports; they even went to the same schools as our children did. 

When they grew up and became men and women, they made a choice to accept the job to protect not only our borders but to protect our freedoms as well.  If it was not for brave soldiers such as these men and women, I could not enjoy the freedom to write and say what I feel.  They preserve what our founding fathers created for us.  I was humbled at the opportunity to sit in the presence of these real American heroes.  These young men and women fought our nation’s battles and they continue to serve even today. 

For most of these young heroes, the war may never be over for them.  The scars they bear and the pain from their wounds will never go away.  We owe them much and yet they ask so little of us. All they ask for is our respect and to remember what it is they have done for each and every one of us.  It makes them feel good knowing that people are out there doing things for them, such as the Warriors Road Trip, and that we still care about them.

Before I left the party, I walked up to each of them and shook their hand.  I wanted them to know I was proud of them for serving me.  I told each one that I would sleep better knowing the name and faces of those who protect my family from the dangers of those who wish to take my peace away.

In closing I would like to add Psalm 23:4  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For you are with me; Thy rod and Thy staff comfort me.  Words and protection given to us by God.  Insured by the US military.

Image via Wikipedia

 Authored by:   Pig

On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat

to the wolf with the red roses?

Will he offer me his mouth?

Yes.

Will he offer me his teeth?

Yes.

Will he offer me his jaws?

Yes.

Will he offer me his hunger?

Yes.

Again, will he offer me his hunger?

Yes.

And will he starve without me?

Yes.

Then does he love me?

Yes.

Yes.

On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat

to the wolf with the red roses?

Yes

I bet you say that to all the boys.

You took the words out of my mouth

Sung By:

Meatloaf

Today while everyone was at work, I was left alone in the house with the cats.  Bored out of my mind, I paced around the house with nothing to do.  All the while, I suffered what all of us writers go through-the dreaded writers block.  I had one severe, bad case of it.  Thank God for the internet, there are a lot of blogs out there and a lot of good writers have given their advice on how to break the writers block.  Hoodie Up was my only option since we were out of both Cheetos and Diet Coke in the house.  (I think the cats hid them from me.) 

Image via Wikipedia

I sat there staring at the computer screen with a blank look on my face.

I needed some inspiration so I borrowed Ray’s MP-3 player and turned it on.  Yeap, you guessed it, dead battery.  Oh great, just my luck, could this day possibly get any worse?  I found a new battery in the desk drawer, popped it in and started to jam.

With the first song on deck I found my inspiration i.e.: this post.

No-I’m not writing about the song, I’m writing about what is in the

song, the first line to be exact. 

It caught hold of me, it pulled me in.  That first line had me from the beginning to the end.  Wow, why can’t I write like that?  With the first line, I found what I was looking for.

 The best pick up line ever.

 I can see it now, no more struggling to break the ice with the ladies. 

It’s bound to work, it has to work.  Oh yes – with that line, she will be putty in my hand hoof.

 But how do I say it? I don’t sound anything like Meatloaf.

Actually, I sound more like Porky Pig.  Ba Deep, ba deep ba dats all folks.

Maybe I should I try using a deep voice? Say like Barry White?

I just don’t know what to do here.

Ah Ha, I know what to do – it’s time to rally up the troops.  OK people, we need a little help here.  We need to know something.  Does “On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses” work or a pick up line for a Pig like me?  I sure can’t ask the cats for help-they ate all my Cheetos.  I would love to hear from you if you think it will work.  And if you don’t feel it is the right kind of pick up line, could you offer me one that is right? 

While I wait for your replies, I think I’ll just go chase the cats around the house.

Ride Hard or Stay Home

Pig.

Spirits are carefree.

They should never be held down.

Made of pure energy – They are our very life source.

For every man, his life spirit is different from others.

Each spirit is unique in it owns way.

As a child our spirits are carefree.

We laugh, we run, we love, as love is given to us.

Sadly, as we grow, our spirits become harnessed by the rules of life.

Saddled with burden.

Spirits are meant to fly high – Free as a bird.

Sadly, our spirits cry when pain is inflicted upon us.

My spirit has been captured and taken prisoner.

It has been beaten, bruised and even scolded in the days of my life.

But my spirit will never die.

My spirit is what keeps me going.

Without it I would surely die.

Although saddled and harnessed, my spirit always always finds a way to show itself and be free.

Freedom on the road on two wheels.

Freedom to laugh and love when with friends.

Freedom to express myself in writing.

By my God given right, my spirit will always shine for all to see.

By Ray Meinhardt

Pig writes:

Right now my spirit is hungry – how about feeding it with some chili-dogs and a cold beer!!!

OK my little piglets, lets move and grove with a little oink and boink.

I got a call from a friend of mine the other day, (to protect the names of the innocent for this blog, we’ll just call him ‘Art’) Art called with a very important question he needed answered. Now, you have to know that my friend Art is a smart man, he even knows how to turn on a computer, I would even guess to say he could even know how to find Wikipedia if he had to. But instead he chose to ask me. “Hey Pig”, he said, “Tell me what that chingadera is on the handlebar of motorcycles. I see them all the time and no one seems to know what they are. I think if you can answer this, it would make for a good blog page”.

When he finished speaking I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. First of all I’m an American pig, I don’t speak Spanish. Second, I would have to look up what a chingadera is (translated: I had to ask a couple of the Mexican boys at Rainman’s work what it meant). I found out it means an “animate or inanimate object lacking its proper name or term” OK, I’ll buy that. But for right now, just how in the hell was I suppose to know what it was exactly he was referring to dangling from the handlebar. So I did what all smart pigs like me do in times like this, I took a guess “Do you mean the horse whip?”

“Yeah, that’s it, what is that thing called anyway?” Art asked.

“Ahhh, a horse whip.” I replied.

“Oh is that what it is? What are they for?”

“Whipping horses.” I snickered at him.

“Very funny little pink guy”, He sneered back at me, “You know I bet if you found out what they are for you could write about it, it would make for a good page to read. (That was the second time he mentioned that line, I guess he wants me to write a post on it.)

I knew what the answer was to Art’s questions as I talked to him on the phone, I also knew that Art was looking for a full explanation of what the horsewhip is used for. But sadly I am one who always enjoys making Art squirm a little while he waits for an answer. I told him I would work on it and get back to him. He asked me to get back to him right away, I knew I had him locked in like a kid squirming in church. You should try it with one of your friends sometime, it’s fun.

After I hung up the phone I had Rainman head us over to the Harley shop where another friend of mine, ‘Tim’ works. Since Rainman & I don’t use horsewhips on our bike, I wanted to be sure I had all the right answers before I put my hoof in my mouth (The last time I did that, it tasted like crap). Tim confirmed my current level of knowledge on the subject and also advised that I try googling it for some additional info. Here is what I had found.

The proper name for those so called “chingadere’s” dangling down from the handlebars of motorcycles is Biker Whips; they are also called horse whips. They were very stylish years ago on old school choppers. Whips are generally made of woven leather but I have seen them made of rope and nylon. They come in different lengths, colors and styles. Now days they are primarily used for decoration accessories as there is no mechanical use to them. They are attached to either the front brake lever or the clutch level or sometimes both. I have seen steel horse cowboys use a harness clip to attach their whips, while some whips are attached where the leather was woven onto the lever. They are very cool looking and the leather can make the levers feel more comfortable on your fingers too.

Horse whips do serve several purposes, back in the old school chopper days horsewhips served as a quick use weapon. If you were caught in a tussle with some “unfriendly” people, the horsewhip could be used for defense especially if your attacker had a knife. But, with this being Texas, around here a gun always wins in a rock, paper, scissors duel. (“A whip is the worst possible idea; unless you are attacked by a gang of Nazi’s who happen to be searching for the lost Ark of the Covenant.” – Mike Hayes) So why have them hanging down from your bike, you ask? Not only do they give your bike the classic old school chopper look, the biker whips are also used as a warning flag to cagers who drive too close to you on the road. The different colors they come in I mentioned earlier represent the riders’ club colors. The whip signifies what group or club the rider belongs to.

So Art, there is your answer in a nut shell. I would like to offer one piece of advice if I may: If you approach a biker with horsewhips on his bike – don’t tell him “Hey nice chingadera”. And don’t make any reference to the whips looking anything like a pair of streamers on a little girl’s pink bicycle either. That biker just might find one more use for those whips.

As I finish up today’s post, I want to leave you with an important saying I want you to always remember:

“ Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, whiskey in one hand and a beer in the other, loudly proclaiming; ‘ Wow What a Ride!’ ” -Unknown (From “The Original Wild Ones”)

Ride HARD or Stay Home

Pig

Let’s Oink!

Comments, comments, comment. I love getting comments on my blog. Funny thing is I never, EVER get one single comment that is negative or hateful or even mean. Why just last week I got one from a lady that was really inspiring to my work. The comment said “I was reading your post on Christmas gifts, I thought it would be interesting, I only came to the conclusion that you are just full of yourself.” Wow, when I read that, I was so relieved. I was really worried that I might have been leaking somewhere from my body and didn’t know it. In fact I was so concerned about being full of myself that I had Rainman take me to the vet to get myself checked out. After sitting in the waiting room for 2 hours past my appointed time, the vet came in and did a full scan of my body. He went through the check list and said “heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, yeap, everything is still in there, no leaks”. Thank God, I was so relieved to hear it. However he did go on to say that I was a little too full, said that I could use to lose some weight. I should have told the vet he needed to stop taking all those ugly pills. He was looking so bad; he could be a modern art masterpiece.

After I got thrown out of the vets office for chasing his beautiful assistant around her desk, I got home and spent a little quite time to myself. I like to do that from time to time, spending time reflecting on my life with a big bag of flaming hot Cheetoes and a Diet Coke while I review. Yes, life is good for me, I love to ride, drink beer and chase women. I like to blog, I like to tell stories of what happens to me on a daily basis. It is what keeps me sane in this crazy messed up world we live in. Especially when I have to witness heart breaking events like what just happened in the last two weeks.

Sunday at church, we prayed for a friend of ours and his family who was almost killed in a motorcycle accident caused by a mechanical failure. We learned during prayer that 5 other motorcyclists were hurt and in ICU that same day at the one hospital. It really hits home when you realize just how fragile we truly are. Then we prayed for a young soldier returning from Iraq who was greeted at home with a letter from his long time girl friend. The letter was a Dear John letter; she said that she found someone else in her life and no longer wished to be with him. She also went so far as to include a photo of her and her new boyfriend. The young soldier was so distraught over that letter that after a few days of being home, he took his own life. The young man who fought for the very freedoms we enjoy and have because of men and women just like him, died in the war zone and he didn’t even know it. He could not adjust to being home. His funeral was scheduled for Tuesday. He was provided an motorcycle honor guard for his funeral by some friends of mine in the Honor Guard. It was a showing of respect, love and honor to a young man who gave all to protect us. I am so sorry he had to come home to what he did. And just to put the icing on the cake, after his funeral, one of the men in the Honor guard was hit on his motorcycle by a cager that was in too much of a Damm hurry to care anything about the safety of someone else.

Yeah, you can say that I am full of myself. I’ll have to agree with you. It is the only thing I have left inside of me after dealing with these and other life issues on a daily basis. I’m so afraid that one day I may dry up and blow away if I don’t keep myself full. I will always try my best to keep a positive outlook on life, I always try to find humor in anything I can and to bring that humor forward to share with others. If you can not have humor in your life then what is the point in living? Thank God someone reminded me that I am full of myself. Hell yes I am, and that was the best complement I ever received. You will have to forgive me, I have to leave now. Mom just brought home another bag of Cheetoes for me to enjoy!

As always

Ride HARD or stay home!

Pig