I gotta be honest. This whole Adam James vs. Mike Leach/Team Captain/Who's Your Captain/Redemption Tour for the ol' 82 bores the juice outta me. It seems that the argument has taken longer to wind down than the background vocals in the Stones' Sympathy for the Devil
Just when you think the song is about to end, Keith and Charlie pop out from behind Mick.
And on and on and on and on.
So this afternoon I tried to find a diversion. I wanted to be constructive so I gathered my camera phone, my sweet wolf shirt, and some of my kid's stuffed animals and threw 'em in my truck. With a full tank and a Red Bull, I went looking for trouble.
Here's me with a Doege Bear puppet yelling at a longhorn and a bunch of stupid cows with my sweet wolf shirt draped over the barbed wire.
In an attempt to really confuse them, I yelled in Spanish. They were so confused. Stupid cows.
In this shot the Doege bear is starting to get cocky and pose for the camera. He has a right to be cocky since he's bi-lingual.
Here's a shot of me and the Doege Bear trying to flush some decorative longhorns down the toilet.
For some reason they wouldn't go down so I'll probably mount them to the hood of my truck after we kick UT's ass on Saturday.
Here's me sending a letter to Cedric Benson in jail. I sent him a nail file so he can try and break out before the game. That way he can watch us kick UT's ass from the comfort of his own home.
I'm definitely not paying for postage though. The LHN needs to help out.
Here's me hacking into my wife's Facebook account to send a warning to Fozzy Whitaker.
It's not easy to read but I basically told Fozzy (AKA Casey Abrams?) he was OSM on American Idol but we're gonna kick your ass this weekend. NO YARDS 4 THE FOZZY!
Later I bought some fresh eggs from a lady on Scenic Loop to throw at all the burnt orange Impalas driving around San Antonio.
A few miles down the road are George Strait's show barn and stables. I would never throw eggs at George Strait.
But then I saw this sign a few hundred feet further so I unloaded in a fit of rage.
It was like an egg machine gun. I hit everything in sight.
C'mon George Strait, be cool. This is America. You can't tell me where alcoholic beverages can live. Sorry about your barn, but you should really loosen up a little.
I got back in the truck and headed back to town, but I had one more stop to make. Here's my monkey visiting with a donkey and a palomino for midgets.
Donkeys understand Spanish, so I asked him why he was shacking up with a palomino for midgets.
He said "Because I can afford it" in beautiful broken English.
I finally made it home with only one task left. I hooked the stuffed monkey up to my truck and shocked the stuffing out of him.
You may be thinking "this story has nothing to do with Adam James" and you're absolutely right.
The diversion worked!
Get behind the couch and shock the monkey!
Cue Keith and Charlie- Whoo! Whoo!
Disclaimer- I wanted to dress up like Raider Red and jump out into that field and ride the longhorn while my wife was snapping pictures but she wouldn't go for it. So I used a hand puppet and spoke Spanish.