Me: I’m not gonna take on a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.
3 beers later:
3 beers later:
When you see your main dude across the Gitche Gumee and KNOW you’re bout to break deep and take water
Gf: come over
Me: can’t. Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms.
Gf: The witch of November isn’t home
Me:
Me: can’t. Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms.
Gf: The witch of November isn’t home
Me:
Me: mom, can I have 26 thousand tons of iron ore?
Mom: only if you promise not to go in the face of a hurricane west wind
Me: I promise
Mom: okay
Me: (Gitchee Gumee time)
Mom: only if you promise not to go in the face of a hurricane west wind
Me: I promise
Mom: okay
Me: (Gitchee Gumee time)
I’d have made whitefish bay. But I’m built different.