Sometimes machines just don't work well; kind of like humans.
So, when you can't get into your blog, you don't get a chapter written for the day.
Fortunately, this so-called "author" has a beautiful, blue-eyed, blond-haired friend that always manages to come to his rescue when he's in trouble, broke, drunk, or just outright useless. Unbelieveable, Jil set up a "makeshift" office on her bar.
The computer was perched between two MegaTouch machines; the computer keyboard was sitting on an empty beer cooler. So this chapter of the "Bushwacker" blog didn't get published until late in the day...and this nefarious amateur authpr was able to get the job done, thanks in large part to the one woman who has always been there for him, even in the worst of times (actually, ONLY and ALWAYS in the worst of times).
As I've always said, "With friends like Jil, my enemies can't hurt me."
Jil's "National Parade of Honor" had been a tremendous success. Interim President Colin Powell was already preparing (unbeknownst to Jil)a special recognition ceremony in St. Kitts where she'll be honored, along with her two partners who helped make the parade so successful. Lynn and Dana will accompany Jil on one of the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. private jets to an elegant ceremony in just a few weeks.
"Jil is the ultimate party planner," I said to myself. "Give her a budget and a deadline, and she does wonders. Give her a unlimited budget and no deadline, and she'll work miracles."
Precarious as this "work arrangement" was, it was made much more pleasant because Jil was there, and because she kept replenishing my peapickers. Creativity is always the benefactor of never-ending quantities of alcohol. It seems to encourage inspiration. And, the definition for "inspiration" is an idea that once was considered mediocre, but - in light of looming deadlnes - is suddenly genius!
Just as suddenly, the keyboard slid into the beer cooler, and I fell off my barstool. As always, Jil was there to rescue me, and as my wrinkled old body melted into the safety of her soft, supple arms, I couldn't help myself: as any dirty old man of any credible substance would do, I deliberately clung to her svelt, warm body.... perhaps a little longer than was appropriate or necessary. Heh...heh....heh....