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The Life and Times of 

Dax Montana

Hunting for the Finer Things of Life

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Saturday, October 04, 2003

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Cracker Jack Man

While driving into work last night, I spied a Mexican work crew. As I was stopped at traffic light #7, I watched these guys bust their ass. They were busting up rocks and shoveling dried concrete. Although it wasn’t particularly hot, these guys were sweating bullets.

Every now and again, I’ll pass by one of those prison work crews, you know, the chain gang. These guys are busy policing the side of the road, busting stray litter. As with yesterday’s Mexican work crew, I usually have the same thought. I should stop and pass out icy cold bottles of Coke. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to perform such a random act of kindness. I guess I figure it’s better them than me. I know I wouldn’t want to work so hard.

Maybe my compulsion comes from my run in with the Cracker Jack Man. When I was about ten years old, I lived in this apartment complex. We were waiting until our house was ready. Anyway, after a busy afternoon of “Smear the Queer,” one of the guys shouted, “Lets go see Cracker Jack Man.” Not knowing what to expect, I agreed.

Cracker Jack Man lived in apartment 247-B. Going to his place was like a Halloween treat in March. Being the new kid, I had to knock on the door. Although I was somewhat reserved, I did the deed. I waited a long moment, and then knocked again. I could hear a faint rustling from somewhere inside the basement apartment. The door opened and there stood and old one-armed man with tobacco stained teeth. I was creeped out. I don’t know if it was the yellow teeth, or the lack of one arm. It was probably the arm thing. Anyway, I asked rather meekly, “Are you the Cracker Jack Man?” He said sure and closed the door. He came back with three boxes of Cracker Jack, one box for the each of us. We thanked him and left.

I was amazed at Cracker Jack Man’s generosity. I mean how fucking cool was that? Knock on a door and get a box of Cracker Jack. My buddy said Cracker Jack Man was cool just don’t go too often. I obeyed the rule. I didn’t want to screw up a good thing.

A few weeks later, I went back…knock, say hello, and get Cracker Jack. I think it was the third or fourth time I went, I changed things. When he came back with that coveted box of Cracker Jack, I politely said, “No thank you.” He kind of just stood there, looking at me in a puzzled daze. That’s when I asked him if there was anything that I could do for him. I told him I just wanted to return the favor. I’m not sure exactly how the conversation went, but we talked for about thirty minutes. He told me he had lost his arm in the Korean War. When I asked him why he became Cracker Jack Man, he told me that several years earlier he lost his wife and son in a car accident. He enjoyed seeing the smiles on young boy’s faces as they dug through the box of Cracker Jack looking for the prize inside. He said his boy got the same look on his face. He said he watched us through the window blinds.

I only went back one more time. We moved soon after. I made sure we stood on his porch to open our Cracker Jack, and I remember shouting, “alright, tattoos” before running off with our booty.


posted by Dax Montana 5:39:04 AM

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What Does This Mean?

While surfing, I found the o.t.p. Blog, so far so good. He posted about having lots of bandwidth. Something I’m in short supply of just now. Anyway, Ron put up a little Otis Redding. Hey, I like Otis, and a little Dock of the Bay sounded good about then. When I clicked the link, Windows Media Player opened with this Message:



I’m sure I didn’t want any DRM. Is this what the Internet is coming to? Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 5:15:00 AM

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Tales From the Blog Side

What to Blog? How to Blog? The Rules for Blogging. Donnie is trying to find himself as a Blogger. That is something we have all done. Isn’t it? I know I’m still trying to find my Blog style.

I never was a great linker. I always felt that it’s on every other Blog, so why put it here too? Certainly, those folks are getting the same readers I am. Hell, I still feel that way. So, Instapundit, You have nothing to fear from me.

Then there’s the Political, News, Technology, Business Blogger. Again, I dabble in that from time to time, but for the most part I don’t think I have too much profundity in those arenas. I study politics and news very carefully. I feel that it is more of a spectator sport these days. What can I write or say that will change anyone’s mind? Probably not much that hasn’t been said better somewhere else. I can only vote and my ideals are pretty much set in stone now anyway. I doubt I’ll have some epiphany and suddenly become a tree hugging hippie or some such bullshit. I doubt that I will change your mind either.

Oh sweet comedy and satire, thou hast left me to whither on the vine. Don’t get me wrong. I think that I’m a very humorous person. I just can’t seem to translate it to the written word. I tend to deal with the situational improvisational one liner comedy that occurs between two people in a dialogue. I like innuendo and word play. I use it here all the time. However, it just comes across as a mistake or goes unnoticed.

The wordsmith storyteller Bloggers are really good. You know who they are. I lean more to this type of Blog Style. I just get really lost in my train of thought and loose interest before I finish my thought though. Sometimes I find that I really can’t convey the ideas as they are in my mind. I like to think that I write well. I know I can write better than I do. However, I practice a form of Blogging that I like to call “Rip and Read” Blogging. This is a first, rough draft style post. I only edit for spelling and typos. “Rip and Read” comes from my radio days. As a news director, I got stories right off the wire service. They needed to be rewritten and edited for broadcast. If I were short on time, I would rip the stories off the wire and read it in a raw form, hence the term. I have nearly two hundred posts lying dormant in storage. They are unfinished or need to be rewritten and polished. I just lost interest in the ideas.

Just Damn


posted by Dax Montana 4:13:39 AM

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Tales From the Blog Side II

I realized that the last post was getting long. So, I decided to split it up. Anyway, I was lost in a thought about Blogging styles.

I have found that I don’t know shit about grammar. To comma or not to comma, that is my question. When should I break the thought up into another paragraph? Thank God for a spell checker too.

Another idea that just occurred to me, I read a lot of Blogs. That is what keeps me doing this Blog thing. I’ve been posting this crap on the Internet in some form or another for more than two years now. Although, this Blog is only a year and a half old, I just keep pounding away at the ole keyboard here, doing that “Rip and Read” stream of consciousness style.

Which leads me to this point. Even though I evolve or devolve my Blog style, I have found that my readership is slowly growing. Any Blogger that tells you that they don’t watch hit counters or rankings are full of shit. You know you do. I know you do too. Don’t bullshit me. I know you write for you. I write this crap for me too. However, we also know we are a part of a Blog Community. It is human nature to rank ourselves in society, a keep up with the Jones’ mentality if you will. Sure, I get discouraged that I’m not a Higher Marsupial or whatever. Sure, I get jealous that new Blogger is ranked higher than me. Oh well, I can quit or keep posting. Some days I feel like, “Hey, is this thing on? …Testing one, two, three.” I want to be heard whether I have something to say or not.

So, as we go out into the big Blog World, just remember, I don’t have a fucking clue. Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 4:12:33 AM

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List Blogging Pt 2.

1. I felt like crap all day today. Felt good today!
2. My headache has just now gone away. And stayed away.
3. I don’t feel like reading any Blogs. Read my entire Blogroll.
4. I have to schedule off work for the Big North Georgia Blogger Fest in Dahlonega. Done!
5. I killed the store computer’s modem. Fixed it!
6. I didn’t submit a Carnival entry this week. Work in progress for next week.
7. I didn’t log invoices. Logged!
8. I have to schedule employees. Scheduled!
9. Braves lost! Won!!!
10. I need a drink! Margarita time!
11. Just Damn! Just Damn!
12.


posted by Dax Montana 6:18:25 AM

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Speaking of Birthdays…

I can always remember my kids’ birthdays. It’s not like I could forget or anything. I just noticed a very strange pattern. Quint’s birthday is today, October 2. My father’s birthday is May 2. Ashlyn’s birthday is September 14. My birthday is August 14. Then there’s little Devin. His birthday is March 26 and my Little Bro’s birthday is October 26. Now what Dad can’t remember a birthday month?

What is another coincidence is that today is also my former boss’s birthday. (Maybe I should email him.) If that wasn’t strange enough, my wife and I secretly eloped after work one day. We went to South Carolina. There is only a Twenty-four hour waiting period and No Blood test. We couldn’t get off work the next day so we waited until the following day. When I went back into work, my boss asked if we really got married. When I said yes, he took off his wedding band and inscribed on the inside was the same date. So, my boss and I shared Anniversaries and my son shared his birthday too. Talk about job security. It was too bad that he had to sell the restaurants in order to satisfy a court order. Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 5:40:39 AM

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Happy Birthday!

My boy Quint is Seven years old today.



Here he is showing off his lack of teeth.

Eleven years and counting…until he’s 18! Just Damn!



posted by Dax Montana 5:08:26 AM

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Fixed

I'm at work now. That means that I fixed the Damned Modem and related communication errors. I'm so proud of myself! Of course, if I hadn't fucked it up to begin with, I wouldn't had to fix it. Just Damn!1

posted by Dax Montana 5:58:25 PM

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List Blogging

1. I felt like crap all day today.
2. My headache has just now gone away.
3. I don’t feel like reading any Blogs.
4. I have to schedule off work for the Big North Georgia Blogger Fest in Dahlonega.
5. I killed the store computer’s modem.
6. I didn’t submit a Carnival entry this week.
7. I didn’t log invoices.
8. I have to schedule employees.
9. Braves lost!
10. I need a drink!
11. Just Damn!
12.


posted by Dax Montana 3:55:32 AM

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Drink of the Day

I don’t know what happened to society. I grew up watching Bewitched. At least twice in every episode, Darren or Larry or Samantha get / need a drink. I remember the three Martini lunch. Well, when I finally came of age, the three Martini lunch was passé. So in honor of days gone by, I present the Modern Martini as the drink of the day.

Back in the day, Gin was used in a Martini. I don’t like Gin. Besides, I’ve always considered myself a James Bond kind of guy. I like a very Dry, Dirty Martini.

Whip out those shakers babies. Fill ‘em with ice; add 1.5 shots of GOOD Vodka. I like Kettle One. I gave up Grey Goose because it’s French. Anyway, add a generous splash of Olive juice then Shake it up Hard! I like little slivers of ice in my Martini. Strain in a real glass and garnish with a couple of olives. The Martini Glass is for shit. I splash and slosh my alcoholic goodness everywhere using that fru-fru glass. Besides, the glass isn’t modeled after Marie Antoinette’s tits. Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 2:51:16 AM

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Bullies

On the way to work, I was listening to the Radio Factor. Bill O’Reiley was harping on Bullies in school. I don’t care about O’Reily, I was thinking about bullies. I may have bullied my Little Bro a bit, but that’s what Big Brothers do. It’s a fact of life.

When I was in school, I was always the new kid. My Dad was transferred a lot. I always got picked on the first few days. That is until I stood up for myself. There was always one bully kid in the class that had to apply his twisted sense of the Pecking Order to the new kid…me. In his quest for Alpha Male superiority, he had to test me. That is just how things are done.

I always tried to be invisible first. That plan never worked. Meanwhile, I was forging allies with the obviously lesser dominant males. Then I tried to be funny. I’d use humor to alleviate the hazing. That worked to a degree, but there was always some hard nose kid who just had to take it to that physical level.

It always happened on my first Friday after school. My first after school fight, a real fight, was in fifth grade. Hunter Thompson just had to find out what I was made of. He was following behind me as we were leaving the school. A group of kids gathered as he taunted me with names. We all knew was about to happen. As soon as I exited the school doors, Hunter pushed me from behind. I tried to be the bigger man. I tried to ignore him. Hunter had gone too far. He laid his hands on me in a threatening manor.

I turned around as the other kids had formed the fight ring. I took a deep breath, threw my books to the ground and punched that kid right in the nose as hard as I could. His eyes watered, blood flowed from his nose, and he hit the ground. That was about it. I walked home. A few of the other kids congratulated me for taking him out. Whatever. I just stood up to a bully and let everyone know I would only take so much shit. I firmly planted myself somewhere in the social hierarchy. Hunter and I became pals after that.

In seventh grade, Mark Rudell was the bully. He met the same fate. We were never friends. He was just a prick.

In ninth grade, it was Adam Webster. He was very scary. I punched him in the nose too. Only the coach broke it up before he got in his lick. Whew! He was arrested for stabbing another student with a knife before he could extract revenge on me.

Anyway, I didn’t take shit from anyone. I don’t think I bullied anyone either, well except one kid. David Goatee was an underclassman. He would like to bully the smaller students the nerds if you will. Well, one eight grader that David picked on was on the chess team with me. As captain, I took it upon myself to extract revenge.

One day during lunch, we found David’s locker. I had formed a nerd posse to scope out the situation. The thing to do was to make your locker a “jerk open” so you wouldn’t have to work the combination every time you wanted to access your locker. David was lazy. He had a jerk open locker.

Anyway, during lunch, I opened his locker and removed the nuts from the screws to the locker hinges. I left the unsecured screws in place. When class change occurred, we all found strategic locations in which to view David jerk open his locker. As the bell rung, and the mad dash of students flooded the hallways, David lumbers up to his locker. With a huge jerk the locker door flung off the hinges, sailed across the hall and crashed into the wall of lockers behind him. He stood in total shock and awe. We rolled. I mean we laughed our Asses off. I walked up to David and said, “ You don’t pick on my friends any more or next time it won’t be a locker door.” Then one by one, each of David’s previous victims walked up to him and said, “Jerk!” and walked off.

I think David learned his lesson. However, this is where I went overboard. Everyday, I terrorized this kid. I took the door off his locker everyday. He changed lockers. We found it. We became a terror squad of nerds and geeks. He’d share a locker with someone. We’d get it too. Once, Mr. Canavan, the Vice Principal of students, (the disciplinarian) used his passkey to open David’s locker for us. Wow, a school sanctioned hit! We were unstoppable. The one day when I brought Bolt cutters to school to snip the lock off his locker, Mr. Canavan wasn’t there. I had to go before the Man. I was threatened with not graduating. I stopped the terror.

I don’t think I was really bullying David. Even now, I don’t consider myself a bully. I was standing up for the little guy. However, I think about that scene in Adam Sandler’s movie, “Billy Madison.” Where he calls up some kid he picked on in the past and apologizes. Then the Kid, now a psycho adult, crosses Billy’s name off a hit list. I picture Dax Montana on psycho David’s hit list. Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 5:15:19 AM

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Little Brothers are a Pain in the Ass!

I wrote a post the other week about playing “spear toss” with my little brother. I said I’d tell the story about the Great Staple Gun War. I damn near forgot until Donnie at Ain’t Done It! Emailed me and reminded me about it. I’ll try to relate it now.

Even though big brothers are typical assholes to their younger siblings, occasionally we get our comeuppance. The Great Staple Gun War is one of those times. Admittedly, little Bro had a lot to over come with me being the oldest and all. I was the first-born grandson and highly doted upon. However, being the oldest I was required to “watch over” little Bro. If you ever uttered anything about him, you’d have me to deal with. Only I could pick on him. That’s the law. Pick on him, I did. We were always scrappin’ about some bullshit or another.

One fine day after school, we were horsin’ around, throwin’ those big magnolia pods at each other. Well, in the garage there were two shiny silver, heavy duty, craftsman staple guns. We used to get roped into home improvement projects quite often. Stuff like scraping paint, and patching the fence were not uncommon tasks. Anyway, these were powerful staple guns. They were one step down from the pneumatic staple guns. You know, powered by an air compressor. Little Bro had to use two hands to squeeze the “trigger”.

Well these guns were lyin’ around because we didn’t put them away after our weekend chores. I don’t know exactly what possessed me, but I picked up a staple gun, whipped around and fired one of those long chiseled pointed staples at my Brother. I wasn’t too good at aiming that thing. The staple whizzed passed his ear and chipped a little paint off the garage wall. Instinctively, Little Bro found the other gun and returned fire. His staple pierced my shirt and scratched my arm. The little shit, how dare he get in a better lick than me. Didn’t he realize that I’m bigger, therefore the best?

I fired back. This time the staple found it’s mark! It hit him right at the hairline leaving a little bloody nick. Again, he returned fire. His shot ripped the flesh of my left ear. Well, he knew he was getting the better of me. He started to back off. I rushed him. He retreated. We launched a barrage of staples at each other. I’d advance. He’d retreat firing all the while. Each staple would hit clothing or ricochet off the wall leaving a little paint chip dimple.

Of course this volley of staples, this battle for garage supremacy, only lasted a few minutes. We ran out of ammo rather quickly. There might have been two guns, but there was only one box of staples. Click…Click, we each dry fired. Little Bro, who is much smaller and faster, had grabbed the box of staples and was taunting me from atop the driveway, the little shit

About that time, the phone rang. We knew it would be mom calling us from work. She always called to make sure we got home from school ok. Anyway, I put my empty staple gun down on the workbench and went inside to answer the phone. I couldn’t have been inside more than three minutes. Just long enough to say hi, we were home, and everything is all right. I hung up and returned to the battlefield. It seemed to be just as I left it, Staple gun on the workbench and Little Bro atop the driveway taunting me with the box of staple ammunition.

This is the part of the story where ole Dax fucks up. See, I need to convince Little Bro to come down with the ammo. He needs to share so that the War could continue. I propose a truce. Instead of a white flag, I hold up the staple gun and announce, “It’s empty.” With Much fanfare and stupidity, I hold up my other hand. I place the empty staple gun to the palm of my left hand and yell, “See,” and fire.

Doom Doompt, a long chiseled point staple digs deep into my palm. The staple is past flush with the fleshy palm skin. I dropped that staple gun to the hard cement garage floor and scream with agonizing pain. I stare at my throbbing hand, staple and all. Little Bro runs down to assess the collateral damage.

We stare at my hand. I didn’t have a fucking clue as to what to do next. The fear and pain welled up from inside me. We looked at each other with that brotherly expression of “this is bad, really bad.”

With tears of fear and pain swelling up, I reach over to the workbench and grab the Big Screwdriver. The sixteen inch, black rubber handled, flathead blade digs into the palm of my hand just under the staple. With a grunt and a scream, I lever up on the staple. Not enough, I repeat the process. The next field surgical procedure…the pliers. I grip down on the staple and tug again. The staple releases its grip on my palm. I almost feel better. That is until the blood. That’s right, blood. It spurts out of my aching palm in two little fountains like the old Saturday Night Live, Julia Child, save the liver skit. The blood was everywhere. It was in little puddles on the garage floor, on my clothes, and on Little Bro.

Little Bro grabs an old shop rag and hands it to me. I can’t close my hand. I apply pressure to my injury with my other hand. I go inside to sit down.

Little Bro explains to me that while I had gone inside to answer the phone, He had reloaded the staple gun. He didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to shoot myself. He was wrong. The bleeding did stop shortly thereafter. I was dizzy, felt sick, and of course my hand hurt like hell, but I came to my senses enough to bandage myself up. We even got the blood cleaned up before Mom got home. We didn’t talk about that day for a long time. Although, you can’t see the scars now, I still feel a tinge of pain when I press that spot in my palm. Little Bros are a pain in the ass. Just Damn!

As a side note, let me add that yes, I always assume that a gun is loaded. Whether it’s a firearm, staple gun, or even a water pistol. It was a tough lesson to learn.


posted by Dax Montana 3:57:33 AM

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As Seen In…The Blogosphere

I sure as hell don’t want to compete with the Cul-De-Sac or any other collection of links. The Host of the Carnival, or Bonfire, or whatever take upon themselves such a monumental task of collecting and editing links. I’m too lazy to do something like that one time, not to mention each week. I think I’d rather start a Meme…Not!

Anyway, I’m going to do a link thing Dax style. “As Seen In” is going to be a collection of Blogs that I feel need a closer inspection or in the least Blogs that I feel the need to send a little link reciprocity. Who knows I may even do it twice.

First up…

Acidman has been a continual source of Hits to the Dax Files as well as a Daily read. Instead of linking to me, he actually quoted me this weekend. Just Damn!

Grey Biker of High Cotton showed up in my comments recently. He’s from Georgia and I like his style. Maybe I’ll meet up with him one day.

Cynical Cyn has a great post on the differences between Northern and Southern Football.

Bill Dennis may be the Peoria Pundit, however, if he thinks the Cubs have a shot, he is delusional. I’m looking forward to throwing it back in his face after the Braves sweep the Cubbies.

Kim Crawford, aka the Velociman, is a constant reminder of the long lost days of my youth. Kind of like VH1’s 70’s show, this guy is his own time warp.

Ricky of North Georgia Dogma may be moved off the Georgia Hunts list. The last month or so, he has allowed non-Georgian co-posters. What’s the deal with that?

Da Goddess used to always post a comment or two. Even though I miss her insightful quips, she keeps posting gems of her own.

Ravenwood has the best little graphics with his posts. I’m sure he spends a fortune on Bandwidth. His posts are great too.

Dawn at Altered Perceptions has Blogrolled me recently. She offers a different perspective I find refreshing.

Julie Neidlinger is an artist and a Blogger. If I were a duck hunter I’d knock on her door.

Lastly…

Eric is a Straight White Guy who just started a Blog. He emailed me after seeing my Peace Gallery Entry. He is quite witty however I like him because he is gonna let me hunt his back deck.

Well that’s it for now. I think I only linked eleven Blogs. Either I have a short attention span, or this is just too much work Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 12:27:50 PM

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Drink of the Day

Well, I haven’t done one of these in a while. Either I haven’t been drinking, or I’ve been imbibing Redheaded sluts. Time marches on.

In the early morning, anytime before 3:00 pm is early morning to me, I feel a need to get some nutrition. That’s why I’ve moved into the Bloody Mary Zone. The Bloody Mary is the perfect way to get a buzz and breakfast all in one fell swoop.

Ok Babies, dust off those bartending tools. Let’s get to Mixin’. In your tall glass, add ice, 1.5 shots Vodka, a splash of Worcestershire sauce, a dash of Lemon juice, a couple of drops of Tabasco, and fill with Tomato juice. Now shake that sucker up. Add a little salt and pepper to taste then garnish with a sprig of celery.

However, being a lazy bastard with good taste, I get “Major Peter’s hot ‘n’ spicy” Bloody Mary mix. I like Absolute Peppar Vodka too. Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 7:03:18 AM

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Cul-De-Sac and Stuff

I feel like a Shitheal. You know that guy you always hear about. The one who takes her out on a date then doesn’t call the next day. Yea, That asshole. That’s me. See, Saturday week, I met up with a couple of Bloggers. I haven’t called them, or emailed them. I haven’t done shit. Just Damn!

Their influence on me has been felt though. For example, I found myself pulling for the Hawgs as they caught a lucky break in their overtime win against the Tide. If it weren’t for Adam, I wouldn’t have even looked for the score on Sportscenter. Then there’s Kelley. She is so nice to include my post in this week’s Cul-De-Sac. I made the new “Features” section. (That’s where weird shit goes.) Perfect!


posted by Dax Montana 6:40:26 AM

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General Observations

I have to deal with a great number of people everyday. I’ve noticed a few things along the way. Basically, I categorize people in four distinct groups.

1. People with book smarts.
Some people have highly analytical minds. Give them a book and they will know the information. These are the ones with straight A’s in schools. They are very adept at the theoretical ideas placed before them.

2. People with common sense.
These folks are the street wise, cut through your bullshit types. They may not know where Madagascar is on a globe, but put them in a real life situation, and they come out smelling like roses.

3. People with both book smarts and common sense.

4. People with none

I am so sick of the group four people, I want to puke.

There is another way of classifying people.

Those who use a washcloth and those who don’t. I’ve noticed that the people in television commercials don’t use a washcloth. They hold that bar of soap under their nose and feel zestfully clean or some such bullshit. They never show someone soaping up a washcloth before cleaning themselves.

Oh yea, I have made another observation, the bathroom habits of people. Although this is never, ever discussed, I realized many years ago that people have a different routine for their morning toiletries.

I brush my teeth first, and then I shower. I’ve been told that some people actually brush their teeth in the shower. What’s the deal with that? I don’t want to spit on my feet. I don’t piss on my feet either. Most showers I have used drain slowly at some point. So if you’re pissing in the shower, you’re pissing on your feet.

I am a non-washcloth user. I don’t loofah either. I like to rinse first. I like to be wet all over. Then I shampoo. I have short hair, so this is usually a one step deal. I don’t lather, rinse, repeat. I like to take the bar of soap and start in the middle and work down. Then I come back to the middle and work up. My face is last. Then I rinse all the soap and shampoo off.

I can shower in about three minutes. However, I take a long shower because my old tired body responds well to hot water. I like to stand in the hot steamy mist and let my tired aching muscles loosen up. The steam also clears my lungs from all the smoking too.
Anyway, I dry off from the top down, head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes, head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes. (Yea, I watch the Wiggles, Fuck off, I couldn’t resist.)

After all that, I shave. My daddy told me that the beard softens after a hot shower and is easier to shave. I believe it to be true. I shave the right side then the left. I use downward strokes. Then I shave upwards for that close comfortable shave. My face becomes baby smooth.

I’m sure this is way too much information. It was just a thought. And No, I’m not inviting you to shower with me. I can’t stand showering with my wife. Either I’m a southern gentleman or a fool, but I always end up dry and cold while she ends up clean. What’s the fun in that? Just Damn!


posted by Dax Montana 4:39:51 AM