I hope everyone had an awesome Fourth of July, I know I did! Any British pals no hard feelings, you got us back years ago with the Spice Girls so can we call it even? Interesting week in the tropic paradise known as Skipah land. The week started off with a recap of how wonky the internet really is, getting hate mail from someone that later sent me a message telling me I’m on the hook for slander and how “pathetic” I am. Fortunately that problem was dealt with and I also gave a tutorial for other bloggers that have to put up with the same harrasment. Also made a plea for a single, black, gay father to become a champion of single dad’s rights so we could maybe get some traction nationally on this front. Hey Brits you got anybody over there that fits the bill? I’ll fly him to the states and introduce him to my area Congressman! Its presidential season in this country and god knows we could use a new topic to push other than same old regurgitated crap they throw at us. Donald Trump are you hearing me?
In other news Skipah has a wedding to plan now. Yeah who saw this one coming? Hit me like a ton of bricks also……..it’s not me hell no I’m as single as a wild polar bear living in Florida. Nope it become fairly obvious yesterday at the Fourth of July party Sloane and I attended that someone has already stolen her heart. She’s getting hitched with a tomato head, not just any tomato head though, he’s funny (likes fireworks-way to get in good with dad and Sloane) and has a kick ass mom and stepdad. So welcome to the family double J, all kidding aside Sloane and double J were inseparable at the party. This is the second time those two have been attached at the hip! I made sure to polish my nomination in the farmer’s tan hall of fame and we also ate like royalty. I’m taking Sloane to the doctor tomorrow to check and make sure she doesn’t have gills because it was almost four hours of swimming entertainment for her. The dip and cookies went over great and I couldn’t have had a better time if Katy Perry was performing live. Fully expecting a boycott led by Carrot Top to hit my front door tomorrow in protest of calling a red haired human a tomato head. Yeah foreigners that is how bad it’s gotten in my country.
What are you looking at Sloane!
“Thanks double J for the goggles, no problem your dad’s dip is amazing! “Hey, I helped makie the cookies!”
A George Clooney impostor was even at the party!
Once I was able finally get her out of there it was time to light off our fireworks. I didn’t get to enjoy the Fourth with her last year so we’ve made up for lost time the last two weeks I’ve had her. I think I’ve got her combat ready to handle any fireworks now. After our little rinky dink assortment was shot off my particular area of Floyd County, Indiana must have had an inner war waging. I don’t know if the neighbors got ahold of yellow cake uranium or enriched plutonium but good golly the pyrotechnics going off in the area were a sight to behold. I was ready to charge admission and sell beer and snacks to anybody that was around. From our vantage point there were four different aerial shows going off within our viewing pleasure.
I checked on the spy hamsters for a bit and Rosy was hiding under plastic dome like she was taking on another round of mortars from Israel launched at her native Syria. Hammy on the other hand was screaming at the top of his lungs like some Russian general. Take that you damn Nazi’s! I think he was reliving World War II, he was magically calling in airstrikes he thought and right on cue another round of cannons would go off. “In the name of Stalin” he kept crying out, then I saw the empty vodka bottle and knew once again Hammy was tipsy and relieving his time in the field. Or at least stories he read, I think Hammy is a veteran of the Afghan conflict and not near old enough to be a WWII veteran. Rosy was reading her Koran and mumbling something in Arabic the whole time, I don’t think she liked fireworks very much.
Due to the weather this week the blonde bomber and I didn’t get to fish any so we made up for that today with a trip out to the quarry. Once it became evident the blue gill weren’t biting I let her try her first dabble into “bass” fishing. She had a couple of hits but was way too late on setting the hook, had a blast nonetheless, I caught one (not pictured I sure in the hell don’t want PETA up my ass also) but he may or may not be floating tomorrow because he was hooked deep. We just cut the line and continued fishing for a bit and then shot off our last round of parachute men at the quarry. All in all a great week with Sloane, learned some unbelievable shit from enemy camp, the kind of crap that breaks my heart for her because I’m powerless to do anything about less I jeopardize my own custody case.
“I got it dad!”
Think we are going to have go call in a rescue team for that trooper!
The sate of Indiana says the child has to be age 12 before they get their say in court, my daughter has the mental fortitude of a grown ass adult these days. Let her tell a judge the shit she tells me and I’m sure he would figure out in a hurry why I get so upset. But alas, that’s a pipe dream for me, welcome to family court Skipah! Karma, justice (hopefully), and closure (win, lose, or draw) goes down in a rural courthouse in Scott County, Indiana on July 27th. Unless of course he is too busy to see us again and then to quote the late Harry Caray “Holy Cow”, because things will get real interesting then.
About it for tonight, big week for me next week, as I’ve got major plans coming up that I can’t reveal on here. Sorry readers I have neutralized one stalker, but she sticks out like a sore thumb, the biggest blog stalker is in my area so without being told when she is online it is impossible to trace. Let’s just say Mr. Skipah got a few more chips at the poker table this weekend from intel I received yesterday from another close family source. There are exactly three people in this whole country, hell world that want me to lose on July 27th, and I’m not even sure on the third one.