Now look what you've done...pissed the ol boy off. Sub 10 hour goal, whatever, you're just lucky you rolled out of there alive.
Deluge and delirium. The mountains win again.
Unless, of course, your last name conjures the notion that your legs have value, in which case, you got 3rd SS, got paid, managed to cram your gigantic hammies into those tiny teal shorts by some miracle of the lord, got back up on the podium and yet, somehow, still failed to fly your true colors.
For shame. You know who you are.
This is your second warning. Ruffles on the top step soon, or it's your ass. Mark my words.
Otherwise, congrats to all the Teal that went, saw, kicked ass, wept, mixed mud and blood, and generally poured themselves into what appears to have been a hundo for the ages. You make the home front proud.
Keep on flying the flag. Keep on looking up, up, up.
Yep, my 10-hour goal fell by the wayside. It does feel good to have made it out alive. Love this sequel to the first installment of the maillot pistachio.
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