You Don't Know The Secret Handshake?

7/5/04 by mushingirl

Thanks for turning people on to my site (yet another shameless plug - mwahahahaha) it sent my hits almost above 100 for the month of June. I am also very happy there are new readers to the many posts on the disaster of late.
As for Scott's street cred, did anyone ever question it? I have known this kid has mad skilz for days now.
The "clowns" you mention frighten me (I am courlophobic) but if they want the ability to post nonsensical articles and lengthy meandering profiles, more power to them. I ask only that they not all squeeze into the same Mini Cooper when traveling and leave the creepy white make up at home.
As for t-shirts, hats and bumperstickers, I too am waiting for the swag portion of the disaster. I can not, however, believe you do not know the sectret hand shake. And the meetings are week days at 11:00 and 3:00 on the smoking deck where Scott works (as long as they still allow us to smoke - don't get me started about that).
I am blondely unaware whether I am on a membership committee, but if I get a vote I say "let them post."
I remember Scott telling me stories of his time in CB4 (or was that one of the movies I saw while high?). Don't do drugs kids.
I am happy to know you have been released early from the joint. I also hope you can cover up that nasty tattoo (you know the one).
My cover story is typical really. I was born three years ago in Arizona to a high school quarterback and an Argentine Nazi sympathizer. I bought my freedom by saving Camel Cash and surprising my captors with a Joe Camel ZippoŽ.
Starving and alone I was rescued by Scott as he passed through the fat man's squeeze at Giant City State Park. After a brief training stint with a Puerto Rican couple in Ontario I was shipped via Fed Ex back to central Illinois where I currently masquerade as a past her prime, over-weight blonde chick who tries despirately to play softball and volleyball in between cigarette and margarita breaks.
I can also sing kareoke baddly.