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OK OK so we have a few days left before all this valuable babble is wiped clean from the earth. Last moments on the Fine Home Building site here. Geezzz …last dazes on earth, Should be some kinda irregularities allowed now wouldn’t ya say? C,mon Andy……post some past items you deleted because of rude context that we ALLLLLLLL wanna see before the show here rolls off the road……c’mon dude. I’ll send ya a case of….well..home brew we might say.
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"I have learned so much thanks to the searchable articles on the FHB website. I can confidently say that I expect to be a life-long subscriber." - M.K.
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Andy C.,
Does this mean that after Tuesday we have to start all over again? My memory will be erases and I'll have to figure who I should insult all over again?
That's OK! I got CRS sooo baaad that i'm like a goose, everyday it's a new world to me. :)
*Guys, most of what you see here will be exported to the new forum. The only thing that isn't going to be moved is the contents of the tavern, because there's little of archival value there anyway, just bar talk. Relax, have a beer on me.Andy
*Andy, can we each expect a beer in the mail? Sonny gets milk by thye way. OK OK a Rum Toddy.Andy
*Andy, no beer in the mail. But if you ever leave Cold Spring and head east, stop in and I'll buy.
*Does this mean that when we get to the new board we are all automatically grandfathered into veteran status? So when new comers come along we can spout off stuff like. "Well you don't know nothing kid,I'm a veteran of the old board and that stuff would have never been tolerated there. We woulda kicked your little butt good over there." "Ahh the good old days on the old board." "I've known Ron since the days of the old board." "But Andy you can't ban me I'm a veteran of the old board. We've been through the wars together." Stuff like that?
*We could always say " Hey Guy Ive been around since before Andy got Executive Editor"
*Too funny, Gunner! Sometimes here it's like a stranger walks into a little bar in Dillon, MT, and sits in Butch's seat. Butch comes in and the bar goes quiet...Butch is sure nuff his daddy's kid (may he rest in peace) so he strides the twenty feet between himself and his beloved stool, looms over the stranger in the clean Levis and the shiny boots, a growl barely audible in his throat. The stranger takes no notice, but his complete ignoral of Butch feels the way thunderheads look on a hot Montana afternoon. Butch reaches for the stranger's collar to pull Prissy Pants off his stool--Butch's stool!--and hand him over to Mr. Pavement, but the stranger pulls out a rat-tail comb and pokes Butch right in his belly button, then stuffs a couple of pink foam rollers up his nose and has his handles in a Josephine knot with some taupe L'eggs, size D. His LL Bean duster falls open and the crowd gasps to see the "H" embroidered on his chest: it's HAIRDRESSER MAN!
*Haahaahaahaa, ROLFMAO. Splinter that is well worth printing. I'm gonna keep that one.