Giving the Bucky His Due

Yes, my fellow bloggers in arms. I'm back.

Fine. Don't everybody jump up and down at once. I get it. Anyhow, life has normalized and I'm ready and rarin' to go!

You may (or may not) remember my one-year blogiversary. And you may (most likely not) remember that in honor of said blogiversary, I held a contest and whoever could answer all ten contest questions correctly and make it through the randomizer would win my paltry prizes. And if you'll remember (yeah, right) Bucky was the poor sap lucky winner. The lucky, long-suffering, sitting-up-there-in-hillbilly-central-waiting-for-his-prize-package-to- materialize (NOT!), contest winner. Well, honey, this is your lucky week because the package is on its way! At least, I think it's on its way. I gave the box and a yuppie food stamp (a.k.a. $20) to J-man and sent him off with his morning cuppa and the mini-van to ship the damned thing via UPS while I took a bubble bath. But when he finally got home six hours later, he smelled of bourbon and cheap perfume. You may or may not get it. Frackin' kids.

So, I decided to send my big-time prize winner a t-shirt. With my ugly mug on it. And I wore said t-shirt for 24 hours. That's right, sweetie. I ate in it, fed kids in it, changed diapers in it, dusted, mopped, blogged, and slept in it. And I didn't wash it. I also posed for a few pictures. Observe:

Made coffee in it. If you put your nose reeeeaaaaally close to my picture on the t-shirt, in the area of my knee socks, you'll smell vanilla-hazelnut blend. You're welcome.


After feeding J-man his breakfast, there might have been a yogurt splotch. Or two. Not sure. Definitely some cat hairs, though.


No make-up. SCARY!


J-man was kind enough to smear Chick-fil-A condiments on your left sleeve. Boil that up for some soup later. YUM!

And, of course, I couldn't do this post without taking a final picture in your shirt. I thought I would re-create my iconic (snort!), widely-recognizable avatar. Just for you.


Feel free to drool. Or run screaming from your computer. I'll understand. Hope you enjoy your un-laundered t-shirt of me!

Oh, and? One more thing. I threw in a couple of cheesy Georgia souvenirs and this:


What's a present from Georgia without your very own "Deeeelux Edishon" DVD copy of Deliverance.

Squeal like a pig, Bucky. Squeal away.