Lads.
I would hope its dawning on all of you of the full realization that MW8 is right around the corner. It gives me a great deal of pride to know that for eight straight years, more if you consider my bachelor party as the demo for MWnd, we have carved out this weekend as our own. Each and every year shows me how important getting away from the day-in and day-out of our lives. To shake up the routine and drown our livers in amber spirits and golden beer, to inhale the smoke of the hardwoods, fragrant weed and the cool air of the mountain, to taste the meat and the gun powder on our toungues, to know the heart stopping cold in a baptism the Catskill winter runoff . To clense the spirit, and reboot the soul, so we can return to our lives as whole men.
I don't have to mention the ridiculous little cups that freeze the hands, the lack of any kind of coherent conversation, the meat dam, the absence of any plates or untensils. And the monkey tits will not be mentioned.
Only know we have ten days to wait. And it may kill me.
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