Red Mosquito

B wrote:I need to choose between a jr. high cheerleading competition and a high school wrestling tournament.

doug rr wrote:homemade meatballs I hope?

Chris_H_2 wrote:i've never heard of anyone associating the super bowl with a cold ham & cheese sandwich ... until today.

epilogue wrote:

B wrote:I need to choose between a jr. high cheerleading competition and a high school wrestling tournament.

Which one will have the better snacks?

B wrote:

epilogue wrote:

B wrote:I need to choose between a jr. high cheerleading competition and a high school wrestling tournament.

Which one will have the better snacks?

Wrestling tournament. But the smell may kill my appetite.

It's my wrestler's senior year, so that probably gets the priority.

I know the exact time my cheerleader will be dancing at a local school, but the way wrestling works is that he will be wrestling for something between 2 and 18 minutes over the course of two full days at a school 2 counties over.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

tragabigzanda wrote:

spike wrote:

Chris_H_2 wrote:i've never heard of anyone associating the super bowl with a cold ham & cheese sandwich ... until today.

How depressing his everyday lunches must be.

Ka'chava roughly five days a week

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

B wrote:

epilogue wrote:

B wrote:I need to choose between a jr. high cheerleading competition and a high school wrestling tournament.

Which one will have the better snacks?

Wrestling tournament. But the smell may kill my appetite.

It's my wrestler's senior year, so that probably gets the priority.

I know the exact time my cheerleader will be dancing at a local school, but the way wrestling works is that he will be wrestling for something between 2 and 18 minutes over the course of two full days at a school 2 counties over.

bodysnatcher wrote:who the heck has a kids birthday party on super bowl sunday?????

spike wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:who the heck has a kids birthday party on super bowl sunday?????

I know, I’m still not used to the SB not being the last weekend of Jan/first weekend of Feb. Stupid 17 game schedule.

doug rr wrote:

spike wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:who the heck has a kids birthday party on super bowl sunday?????

I know, I’m still not used to the SB not being the last weekend of Jan/first weekend of Feb. Stupid 17 game schedule.

make sure you have enough cold ham and cheese sandwiches for all the friends coming over for it

spike wrote:Imagine the flaky crumb apocalypse of fifteen four year olds eating croissants