B.W. Not Happy

Geez, I don’t know how my mutts know about their air-time….They all probably have their own Facebook accounts.
B.W. is licking his way into the picture….and Bill Willy trying to slide in the side. And that is Tula’s rump in the rear.

Old Growth And A Fighter Pilot’s Check List

Not talking about forest or anything like that. Heck, my title is probably confusing to everyone but me. But give me a chance to explain as only a Hillbilly can.

Back in my 20’s and 30’s, and even early forties, when I would be doing myself up for a night, or even a morning on the town, I had a very small to do list; Shower, Shave, and Shit. Brush the choppers, put some smells good on, and this Handsome Hillbilly was unstoppable..up until the 20 plus something beer.

Fast forward to today. Still rock the three “S’s”, but now I have a fighter’s pilot type of check list. Nose and ear hair tamed? Check. If not checked, grab the clippers and razor and go to town. What the hell happened? How does hair decide to expand its domain as I get older? It still grows very well on my bucket, though graying. It also has migrated to my chest and shoulders. I never figured I would be morphing into a human Che-A-Pet.

Here is the kicker: I can’t even grow much facial hair! Except for my dome, and my unmentionables, I am going in for a Nair Dip.
This is a battle I refuse to lose. If I don’t win, I will be hiking my britches up so high, I will have to unzip them to see. I will be dinning at 3pm, and hitting the roost at 7pm. I will also be wearing adult diapers….wait, I would love to wear those bad boys… less time away from my beer:)