Today, I pulled 109 feet of unlubed fish tape with my bare hands. I am Timothy J. Builderguy.
But also today, Timothy J. Builder hangs up his hardhat. At least for now. Because he can take it. Because he's the builderguy San Luis Obispo deserves, but not the one it needs right now. Because he's not our builderguy. He's a silent muscledude. A watchful lifterman. A dark builderguy.
Assume that my normative blogging duties shall return come the morrow. For now, hot tubs and sleeps.
(Also, Kris Straub said he'll watch out for my movie and book. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.)
Showing posts with label timothy j. builderguy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label timothy j. builderguy. Show all posts
Monday, February 6, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Wake Me Up Before You IndieGoGo?
I don't know, man. I'm fucking trying.
I realized today, during my arduous hours of physical labor, that I hadn't yet mentioned to my droves of devotees that a certain fundraiser I support recently reached it's goal!
A little over a week remains and I'd recommend making your donations now, as it'll possibly be your last chance to snag certain prizes, such as a Season One DVD.
My muscles ache. It hurts my poor, cramped hands to continue typing. Such is the plight of the proletariat blogger.
Tomorrow, Timothy J. Builderguy falls.
(Also, Kris Straub +1'd my Google+ comment. No big deal.)
I realized today, during my arduous hours of physical labor, that I hadn't yet mentioned to my droves of devotees that a certain fundraiser I support recently reached it's goal!
A little over a week remains and I'd recommend making your donations now, as it'll possibly be your last chance to snag certain prizes, such as a Season One DVD.
My muscles ache. It hurts my poor, cramped hands to continue typing. Such is the plight of the proletariat blogger.
Tomorrow, Timothy J. Builderguy falls.
(Also, Kris Straub +1'd my Google+ comment. No big deal.)
Friday, February 3, 2012
Mad Fat Stacks, Yo
doooo DOOOO doooo DOO doo. dooo DOOO bumbumbumbum ba bum shakeshakeshake.
I think I've cracked the formula for this show's dialogue.
INT. MOBILE METH LAB - DAY
JESSE PINKMAN: "We're gonna make mad fat stacks, yo!"
WALTER WHITE: "Mad fat stacks, Jesse?"
JESSE PINKMAN: "Yeah, Mr. White, you know, dead presidents."
WALTER WHITE: "Dead presidents, Jesse?"
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I'm doing my best to catch the missus up on Season Three by the time she moves out. That being said, as she's only five episodes into Season Two, I've no time to blog.
Tomorrow? Timothy J. Builderguy flies solo.
I think I've cracked the formula for this show's dialogue.
INT. MOBILE METH LAB - DAY
JESSE PINKMAN: "We're gonna make mad fat stacks, yo!"
WALTER WHITE: "Mad fat stacks, Jesse?"
JESSE PINKMAN: "Yeah, Mr. White, you know, dead presidents."
WALTER WHITE: "Dead presidents, Jesse?"
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I'm doing my best to catch the missus up on Season Three by the time she moves out. That being said, as she's only five episodes into Season Two, I've no time to blog.
Tomorrow? Timothy J. Builderguy flies solo.
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