The last dimpled bottom

Yeah, I know what YOU'RE thinking. You bunch of perverts you.

But first, a photo to avoid revealing all at once. You have to suffer through the white peony. My heart bleeds for you. And an ant, just because.

So here we are, thinking about dimpled bottoms. This turned out to be the last Vin Blanco from almost exactly 3 years ago. It's also, I think, the last bottle of wine in those dimpled bottom bottles I don't like. Make me an offer, and 14 doz plus a few are yours. Oh, and yes, the wine was perfect with BBQ on a bun, done in a specialty Linda marinade. It was a perfect evening to sit and chat.

Stampede is in full swing. One particular co-worker came in with a hangover this morning. She thinks that was the cause of the untoward event with a Starbucks coffee, but I think it was the coffee. Another is dealing with a flight hangover from an overseas vacation. A boy's week out in Japan, if you can imagine such a thing. After being accidentally horrified by what happens to pass for entertainment on Japanese television, I am quite certain I do not. Another is enduring the whipsaw of England making it to the something round in some soccer contest, and losing. He knew it would happen, but was struggling with the tension of when.

Traffic sucks even more than usual. More and more people are driving like they are in a video game. I'm not sure how big of a helicopter it takes to lift a big car, but I'd love to see the city buy one, and install a big magnet on a cable. You know what I'm thinking. Goldfinger. We could fly it during rush hour with the pilot and crew instructed to look for someone driving like an A-hole, swoop down, pluck them off the road, and drop them somewhere. I'd say the ninth circle of hell, but I don't think we could get the airspace permits. I'll settle for dropping them into a junkyard from say, 500 feet. Not in water like the movie, we might hurt a fish.