Homework and Homecomings

I’m not an overly nostalgic guy, but lately, my mind has been on sojourn to a place and time some 27 to 29 years in the past.

My High School days…1981-83, at Springfield North High School.

It is understandable as to why I have been ruminating about those days recently. My son Ryno, celebrates his 16th Birthday this Sunday, and it called to mind when I did the same during my sophomore year.

On top of Ryno’s birthday being a catalyst for these thoughts, sometime during the pre-dawn hours on Tuesday, I had a dream that involved a class reunion of sorts.

Several old classmates and I were partying in a restaurant/bar facility, and having quite the uproarious time of it.

I reveled in the somnolent kinetoscope moment for what seemed like hours with the likes of Tom Murphy, Amy Speros, Michelle Roddy, Susan Heeg, Joe Aker, and a slew of drunken others.

There wasn’t anyone there who I didn’t like or who wasn’t buddies with me as well, which oddly, begs the question…

Why at the end of the dream did these lovable jokesters hide my clothes and contacts and laugh as I stood naked and blind as I sucked back a bottle of TJ Swan Midnight Express just prior to having sex with the uber-hot and amply breasted Pam Burkitt?

But I digress…

The dream abruptly ended as did my thoughts of those fun times. I awoke, made my way to the computer, and opened up my email.

I had but one message. It was from my High School sweetheart, Sherri.

She wrote that she is out of town in a training session for a few days, but had a dream about me, and among some electronic small talk, wanted to know how I was doing. She then ended her correspondence, by saying…

“Stay out of my dreams, Fucker. You took George Clooney’s spot!!”

Ha!! Even after knowing her for 30 years she still never fails to crack me up. And much like my dream, her email reminded me of how much of a blast we had in those days.

Sherri and I were all but inseparable back then. We worked at Hardee’s together…made fun of people together…had less than stellar teenage sex together, and while we had other friends, she and I were best friends.

I thought about that, responded to her email, flashed a smile to times past, and then remembered yet another thing.

Tuesday was the aforementioned Joe Aker’s birthday.

Joe was the best friend of mine with whom I never had sex. He’s a funny fucker and we have known each other really well since roughly 5th grade.

So, I emailed Joe quickly before I had to leave for work and got a reply from him that referenced something I and others used to say to him when we were kids. The past continued to come alive.

Once I got to work, I was in a good mood and Drive-By Mikey and I talked about our “olden days”.

It was fun. And, I am glad that I revisited those times for a few. But, later in the day, those happy thoughts were dissipated by the winds of the present and the work at hand.

I thought that was the end of it, however…

At about 5:30 P.M. Sherri’s dad came through the Beer Mine to get some brew-ha’s, and as always when he does, he said to me:

“Hi Matt. How are ya, buddy?”

I typically respond by just smiling, and saying:

“Just fine sir, how the hell are you?”

This time when responding as I always do, I laughed instead of merely smiling, because the train of past memories came rolling down the tracks as I recalled being 16 and Sherri’s dad walking in on us getting naked in their living room.

That night years ago, his voice cut through the musty dimness and asked…

“What the hell are you doing?”

As I was not incredibly sexually experienced at this point in my life, I responded:

“I’m not quite sure, sir.”

Ha…Good times, good times.

There is no point to this exposition other than this…

All of these memories made me smile for a day and I wanted to write them down, because just like the High School I attended, the folks that helped spur these memories may not always be around.

Cheers!!

Oh, and don't forget tomorrow is another installment of He Said...She Said, or perhaps, this week it will be SHE Said...He Said!!

Plugging Along With Pain

If you read yesterday's Bagwine post by the lovable Schmoop, you know that I am dealing with some type of right lung thing that is incredibly painful.

It really hurts when I bend, breathe deeply, and when I sit. That is why it is very hard to do anything at the computer. I can only sit a few minutes at a time.

Because of that, a writing deadline that comes Wednesday, and work, I will be around only sparsely until my day off on Thursday.

Until then, I will do some re-runs...Today's involves my longtime buddy, Joe. Or as some of you ancient Bagwine readers may know him as, Joe Hair Care.

As today is Joe's 45th birthday, I thought I would repost the following story about a couple of the fun times Joe and I shared at Bowling Green State University. Enjoy...

Hair Care Joe and I were near the end of the semester at BGSU. For most, the end of the semester is a time for focus, forethought, and finals.

For me…not so much. I worked very hard at enjoying the ENTIRE college experience, not just the drudgery of academia. It was, in my opinion, time to party.

Sure, there had been partying throughout the semester. The best outings were when we would go to a party off-campus at someone’s house or apartment, and the host had no clue who the hell we were.

We, of course had a right to be there, because of the obligatory, “Friend of a Friend of a Friend Party Law”.

Beer Bongs were big back then, and I became quite good at handling the receiving end of one. After a few of those, the fun would get underway.

We found it hilarious to pick up the host’s camera that was sitting on the kitchen table and proceed to take pictures of ourselves.

When said host had the film developed, he or she would have no idea who the hell the people in the pictures were.

One of our crew had a penchant for pilfering women’s nightgowns and dresses from their closets and wore them on Sundays as we watched football. He would always say, “They just feel right.”

This is the same guy who was hauled into the back of a paddy wagon during the busting up of a party.

You see, one night we were at a party that evidently drew noise complaints from the neighbors. When the cops arrived, our cohort in question was standing on the front porch with a good buzz going on.

He stated quite loudly, “Holy Crap, look at all the pigs!!” Just then, an officer emerged from the bushes and grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to escort him to the van.

Although drunk, our friend kept his quick wits about himself, and said, “C’mon occifer, I was talking about the women.”

He was ticketed for public drunkenness, and dropped off at Doyt L. Perry Stadium, better known in Bowling Green circles as “BFE”.

Now, allow me to get back to the semester ending blow out that Hair Care and I had. Joe seemed to be stressed of late, so I decided to ease his anxiety by showing him a Friday night of fun.

I asked him if he wanted to tie one on, and after threatening to mess his hair up, he graciously acquiesced.

We started by drinking some beer and Champagne Velvet in our room, while we listened to a Flock of Seagulls crank out “Space Age Love Song” through my crappy stereo.

Our buddies Paul and Webb stopped by to imbibe with us. Good Times…Good Times.

With a nice state of inebriation developing, we proceeded to McDonald’s to prepare our stomachs for the forthcoming assault upon their linings.

After Joe ordered his food, I said to him, “Your money is no good tonight. I’m buying.”

I paid. We ate. We then rambled down to the bar district.

We hit every stinkin’ bar in the city. We drank pitchers here, pitchers there, with shots of 151 everywhere. Good Lord, Nero would have been proud of the way we debauched ourselves and an entire community.

Neither of us remembered how or when we got back to our dorm room, but it was evident the next morning that we had made it.

After shaking the grain fed fog from our heads, Joe said to me, “Man, that was a great time Matt. Thanks a lot.”

I said, "Aw Joe, you don’t have to thank me.”

With a look of appreciation upon his face, he replied, “I sure as hell do have to thank you. You bought the beer, bought my Big Mac, and paid for all of the drinks at the bar. Hell, you never have money. How did you manage that?”

I smiled, grabbed my towel, and as I walked by him on my way to the shower, I told him, “I sold your textbooks.”

Happy Birthday Joe!!

And to those of you who shall be nameless, who yesterday were excited to find that Schmoop would be seen more during my illness? Here's a picture of the uber-lovely Schmoop that demonstrates her flexibility...


I hope you enjoy the picture...and then I hope you choke on it, you traitorous bastards, you!!

Cheers!!

I'm a Lucky Guy

Wow. I have been off for three days, and I am burned out.

I go back to work for 5 hours today and for that, I am incredibly thankful.

I, and more specifically, my liver, need some rest.

Did Schmoop and I party quite a bit, you ask?

Boy Frickin’ Howdy, did we. Oy Vay!!

Yesterday, however, was a good day. I intentionally refrained from day long blogging.

We listened to Christmas music, some talk radio, and just hung out with libation o’ plenty.

And…some pleasant surprises occurred.

I got a phone call from my buddy Joe. That’s right long time Bagwine readers, the man better known as, Hair Care Joe.

Although he imparted the news of his dad passing shortly before Thanksgiving, it was still good to hear from him.

Joe is one funny mo-fo. Here’s to ya Joe, and to your dad, Robert. I’m sure he is driving around in Heaven in his primo Javelin.

After that, Schmoop’s brother, David, stopped by. Always a pleasure and we shared some laughs and more than few beers.

And Desert Rat…David has been ogling and drooling over your Christmas card quite frequently. Don’t worry, your distance from Bagwine will be your protection.

Lastly, the husband and wife tandem and owners of the place at which I work stopped by the Bagwine digs.

And my friends, they came bearing gifts…

Cookies, a nicely done Christmas towel, fudge, and an incredible trail-mix type thing of sugared goodness…not to mention a nice little sumpin’ sumpin’ of the pecuniary variety.

I have worked other places and made a helluva lot more money doing so, but I can honestly say that this place is the best place I ever worked.

Thank you Mike and Debbie for the Christmas cheer.

With that being said folks, I must get ready for my 11-4 beer shift. But first, a shout out to Pizza Bill…be on time to relieve me, m’kay?

Ha, kidding. I kid because I love.

However, with all that is going on with Schmoop getting laid off, and just a general feeling of my lack of success, I am in a fantastic mood.

Why, you ask?

Well, in addition to all of you guys and Schmoop, I am surrounded by a gaggle of great people. I dig that…a lot.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man: Mystical Quarterback

My computer problems have been rectified and the dude that helped me get the Vista problem corrected was quite helpful. From the time I called Friday evening to the time the problem was fixed took only 20-25 minutes. So thanks.

I would like to thank those who took the time to answer the poll question as to what my nickname was on the Intramural flag football team. While the vast majority opted for “Crazy Legs”, the correct answer is “Puck”. That’s right, and no, not because I like hockey, which I don’t. It is because I remind people of the playful King of the Wood Fairies. And although there is nothing wrong with being a fairy, I prefer to be called a mischievous “Woodland Sprite.”

Yes, as Puck I played quarterback and led our team to the worst record in the league. We lost every game and more often than not, failed to even score. It wasn’t because we didn’t have the best nicknames though. We had “Anvil Head”, “Small-a-High Bigelow”, “Joe Hair Care”, and of course myself, Puck, just to name a few. We excelled at mediocrity and our lack of athleticism grew to become legendary across the campus of Bowling Green State University. I miss those days. I miss the glory.

I hope everyone had a great weekend, and I will see you soon. Until we meet again, Cheers!!

Excuse Me While I Dehydrate...

I am under the weather to day with a wide variety of flu-like symptoms...a plugged up head, a hacky cough, nausea, and some loose yet colorful discharges from all orifices. So today I am re-posting a Haircare Joe post. Ladies and Gentlemen, from September 7, 2006 I give you the following...See you tomorrow, I hope!!


Hair Care Joe and I were near the end of the semester at BGSU. For most, the end of the semester is a time for focus, forethought, and finals. For me…not so much. I worked very hard at enjoying the ENTIRE college experience, not just the drudgery of academia. It was, in my opinion, time to party.

Sure, there had been partying throughout the semester. The best outings were when we would go to a party off-campus at someone’s house or apartment, and the host had no clue who the hell we were. We, of course had a right to be there, because of the obligatory, “Friend of a Friend of a Friend Party Law”.

Beer Bongs were big back then, and I became quite good at handling the receiving end of one. After a few of those, the fun would get underway. We found it hilarious to pick up the host’s camera that was sitting on the kitchen table and proceed to take pictures of ourselves. When said host had the film developed, he or she would have no idea who the hell the people in the pictures were. One of our crew had a penchant for pilfering women’s nightgowns and dresses from their closets and wore them on Sundays as we watched football. He would always say, “They just feel right.” This is the same guy who was hauled into the back of a paddy wagon during the busting up of a party.

You see, one night we were at a party that evidently drew noise complaints from the neighbors. When the cops arrived, our cohort in question was standing on the front porch with a good buzz going on. He stated quite loudly, “Holy Crap, look at all the pigs!!” Just then, an officer emerged from the bushes and grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to escort him to the van. Although drunk, our friend kept his quick wits about himself, and said, “C’mon occifer, I was talking about the women.” He was ticketed for public drunkenness, and dropped off at Doyt L. Perry Stadium, better known in Bowling Green circles as “BFE”.

Now, allow me to get back to the semester ending blow out that Hair Care and I had. Joe seemed to be stressed of late, so I decided to ease his anxiety by showing him a Friday night of fun. I asked him if he wanted to tie one on, and after threatening to mess his hair up, he graciously acquiesced.

We started by drinking some beer and Champagne Velvet in our room, while we listened to a Flock of Seagulls crank out “Space Age Love Song” through my crappy stereo. Our buddies Paul and Webb stopped by to imbibe with us. Good Times…Good Times.

With a nice state of inebriation developing, we proceeded to McDonald’s to prepare our stomachs for the forthcoming assault upon their linings. After Joe ordered his food, I said to him, “Your money is no good tonight. I’m buying.” I paid. We ate. We then rambled down to the bar district.We hit every stinkin’ bar in the city. We drank pitchers here, pitchers there, with shots of 151 everywhere. Good Lord, Nero would have been proud of the way we debauched ourselves and an entire community. Neither of us remembered how or when we got back to our dorm room, but it was evident the next morning that we had made it.

After shaking the grain fed fog from our heads, Joe said to me, “Man, that was a great time Matt. Thanks a lot.” I said, "Aw Joe, you don’t have to thank me.” With a look of appreciation upon his face, he replied, “I sure as hell do have to thank you. You bought the beer, bought my Big Mac, and paid for all of the drinks at the bar. Hell, you never have money. How did you manage that?”

I smiled, grabbed my towel, and as I walked by him on my way to the shower, I told him, “I sold your textbooks.”

I’ll see you all Monday. Have a great weekend…Go Notre Dame, and as always…Cheers!!

And Now Our Moment of Hinn…

“I've known moments when I've not only felt the presence of God, I've smelled the presence of God.”

--Benny Hinn

Crack Open the Rose, It's Somone's Birthday!!

October 19, 1964 unto the world was born a child who one day, even into early adulthood, would find it fashionable to wear red, white, and blue plaid pants. A child who in fifth grade was honored as Traffic Boy of the month in September, and his picture remained posted outside of the principal’s office the entire year.

This freak wonder of nature ate the same thing for lunch everyday from first grade through his senior year….a couple of plain peanut butter sandwiches and two cartons of white milk. Some might find that boring, but I consider it downright American.

This great American of whom I speak, had a head full of unique locks and used every gel, mousse, and spray to keep his mane burn victim like stylish. He used Tussy deodorant and was confident enough to scream like a little girl when I told people let anyone know. He handcrafted sex toys for his girlfriend using a shovel handle state of the art materials.

If you are a regular reader of this site, you know by now who this great man is. I am of course speaking of the one and only, “Hair Care Joe”. Every man wants to avoid be him, and every inbred meth using female woman wants to be with him. Hair Care is an integral part of the Bagwine family and I hope you have come to love him as much as I. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Joe, I have provided the following links so you can learn more about this great human being:

Joe and the Safety Dance

The Drinks are on Me Joe

Dildo Joe

I’m Having a Heart Attack Joe

If you are bored have a moment, please leave a comment, and help me in wishing Joe a wacky and wonderful 42nd birthday. Show the man some Bagwine Lovin’…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAIR CARE, AND HAVE A PEACH BLOW FIZZ FOR ME!!!!

Cheers…

And Now Our Moment of Motto…

In honor of Indianapolis resident, Hair Care Joe:

Indiana: “Potatoe”

Joe Hair Care and His Friend "Woody"

Greetings all……So much to do, so little time. I am going to be working on my Café Press store today, thus my posting will be short, but quite revealing.

I was watching an infomercial for an 80’s music collection early Saturday morning that was hosted by Rick “Wife Beater” Springfield. It shed some light on a subject I had brought up a few posts ago concerning trying to form an accurate description of Joe Hair Care’s hair. One of the pieces of video that was shown was that of a one hit wonder from the 80’s.

I had forgotten all about this dude until I saw the video. Now Joe’s hair is much wavier and not the same color, but this is the closest I’ve seen on an actual Human Being. I give you the following:

That's right the incomparable Rick Astley whose song "Never Gonna Give You Up" rocketed up the charts in 1987. It also reminded me of the time that Hair Care made a sexual toy for use on his then girl friend. This medieval instrument was hand powered, requiring no batteries. He made it out of an old shovel handle...What a freak!! And yet he was so proud of himself.

I asked him, "You're not really going to use that are you?" He said, "Yeah, why?" "Well Joe, um, what about the splinters?", I asked. Joe responded, "Hey doofus, I'm going to sand it down, jeez." Joe sat down and proceeded to sand his woody. I am glad that no one saw.

And Now Our Moment of Hinn...

"I'm sick and tired about hearing about streets of gold [in heaven]. I don't need gold in heaven. I got to have it now."

--Benny Hinn

Potpourri Friday Continues...

I have a few more ramblings that have come to mind on this gorgeous Friday in Springfield, Ohio.

I haven’t talked to my buddy Hair Care Joe since I posted about his hair and the night on the town we had. He shouldn’t be that upset, because he did a couple of things to me those many years ago. One Saturday morning in my dorm room, I awoke from my spirits induced slumber. For a few moments, I just lay there looking at the ceiling trying to get my wits about me. I looked around, and Joe evidently had gone somewhere. I slowly, as to not shock my hungover body, began to get up, but my legs wouldn’t move. For what seemed like minutes, but was probably seconds, I was in a panic. Thoughts of Ronny Raygun asking, “Where’s the rest of me?” filled my head. As the blood rushed from my skull cavity and the fear nearly overcame me, I realized what was wrong…That Son of a Bitch Joe had chained me to the bed while I was passed out. After a few mentions of God’s name, as well as Joe’s, I managed to release myself from bondage, and laugh uncontrollably. I wasn’t mad at Joe…I was proud of him.

I did get him back for that. He was over at his girlfriend’s dorm one late afternoon and called me for some reason. He asked what was going on and I said, “Nothing much, I don’t feel so good.” I told him my chest hurt and I was a little dizzy. He told me that he’d be back in a little while and we’d drink some beers. I told him okay, but only if I felt better. I kept an eye out for him and saw him coming. I raced back to the dorm. I shoved everything off of his desk and onto the floor. I knocked over one of the chairs and laid on the floor next to it. When Joe came in, saw the mess, and me laying there “unconscious”, he started screaming, “Matt, Matt, Are You Alright?..What’s Wrong?..Wake Up…” Just as I had planned, the bastard thought I had had a heart attack. When he began to shake me, I erupted in laughter, and he erupted in expletives. Of course, as always with Joe and I, the @#$%^ gave way to HAHAHAHA…What are friends for?

I saw a funny sign outside of a local church yesterday. It said, “Daily Bread Food Pantry, Open Saturday 10-2:30”. Of course, as mentioned earlier this week in a comment to a post of mine, my friend reminded me of the infantile humor provided by the sign in front of our neighborhood Peanut Shoppe which reads, “Fresh Nut Meats”. Giving credit where credit is due, I must mention a sign that was in front of a local Transmission and Cooling System repair place. This past summer their sign read, “Best Place in Town to Take a Leak.”

Man, oh man, this stream of consciousness stuff is great. I feel so relaxed. I may do this every Friday and avoid the rigors of creating a good post. This indeed is quite liberating, oh look a chicken!!

Anyhoo, I hope you all have a good weekend. Watch some football, get a good buzz, and enjoy some hot sex, I know I will….Well two out of three ain’t bad….Cheers

And Now Our Moment of Hinn…

Today, a classic quote from Pastor Rod Parsley of the World Harvest Church:

“When I say three…You shout two words, 'Come out!' I did this the other day. Two lesbians were having perverted sex, drinking alcohol, and snorting cocaine. But when I shouted, 'Come out' their glasses burst in their hands and they slithered out of the bed and got gloriously born again and filled with the Holy Ghost.”

--Pastor Rod Parsley (Ed. Note: WOW, where did this happen?)

If you'd like "Bagine Ruminations" poured into your e-mail Monday thru Friday, sign-up on the right sidebar...Have a Great Weekend.

Put Down the Books, and Pick Up a Drink

Hair Care Joe and I were near the end of the semester at BGSU. For most, the end of the semester is a time for focus, forethought, and finals. For me…not so much. I worked very hard at enjoying the ENTIRE college experience, not just the drudgery of academia. It was, in my opinion, time to party.

Sure, there had been partying throughout the semester. The best outings were when we would go to a party off-campus at someone’s house or apartment, and the host had no clue who the hell we were. We, of course had a right to be there, because of the obligatory, “Friend of a Friend of a Friend Party Law”.

Beer Bongs were big back then, and I became quite good at handling the receiving end of one. After a few of those, the fun would get underway. We found it hilarious to pick up the host’s camera that was sitting on the kitchen table and proceed to take pictures of ourselves. When said host had the film developed, he or she would have no idea who the hell the people in the pictures were. One of our crew had a penchant for pilfering women’s nightgowns and dresses from their closets and wore them on Sundays as we watched football. He would always say, “They just feel right.” This is the same guy who was hauled into the back of a paddy wagon during the busting up of a party.

You see, one night we were at a party that evidently drew noise complaints from the neighbors. When the cops arrived, our cohort in question was standing on the front porch with a good buzz going on. He stated quite loudly, “Holy Crap, look at all the pigs!!” Just then, an officer emerged from the bushes and grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to escort him to the van. Although drunk, our friend kept his quick wits about himself, and said, “C’mon occifer, I was talking about the women.” He was ticketed for public drunkenness, and dropped off at Doyt L. Perry Stadium, better known in Bowling Green circles as “BFE”.

Now, allow me to get back to the semester ending blow out that Hair Care and I had. Joe seemed to be stressed of late, so I decided to ease his anxiety by showing him a Friday night of fun. I asked him if he wanted to tie one on, and after threatening to mess his hair up, he graciously acquiesced.

We started by drinking some beer and Champagne Velvet in our room, while we listened to a Flock of Seagulls crank out “Space Age Love Song” through my crappy stereo. Our buddies Paul and Webb stopped by to imbibe with us. Good Times…Good Times.

With a nice state of inebriation developing, we proceeded to McDonald’s to prepare our stomachs for the forthcoming assault upon their linings. After Joe ordered his food, I said to him, “Your money is no good tonight. I’m buying.” I paid. We ate. We then rambled down to the bar district.

We hit every stinkin’ bar in the city. We drank pitchers here, pitchers there, with shots of 151 everywhere. Good Lord, Nero would have been proud of the way we debauched ourselves and an entire community. Neither of us remembered how or when we got back to our dorm room, but it was evident the next morning that we had made it.

After shaking the grain fed fog from our heads, Joe said to me, “Man, that was a great time Matt. Thanks a lot.” I said, "Aw Joe, you don’t have to thank me.” With a look of appreciation upon his face, he replied, “I sure as hell do have to thank you. You bought the beer, bought my Big Mac, and paid for all of the drinks at the bar. Hell, you never have money. How did you manage that?”

I smiled, grabbed my towel, and as I walked by him on my way to the shower, I told him, “I sold your textbooks.”

I’ll see you all Monday. Have a great weekend…Go Notre Dame, and as always…Cheers!!

And Now Our Moment of Hinn…

“I've known moments when I've not only felt the presence of God, I've smelled the presence of God.”

--Benny Hinn

Hair Care and the Safety Dance

I’ve recently mentioned my friend Joe to you. We have known each other for about 30 years. We went through grade school, junior high, and high school together. We even roomed together at Bowling Green State University. Those were some good times.

Back in the college days, Joe, upon first glance, may have struck a stranger as an odd chap. He was about 5’9” tall, 130 pounds soaking wet, and his hair was, well…a sight to behold. I know, that I, being folliclely challenged, really shouldn’t pass judgment on someone’s mane, but I have never seen anything remotely similar to Joe’s.

The color was a discordant mélange of orange, blond, gray, and brown. It was as though a chameleon was quartered snugly upon his skull, constantly changing shades upon the situation at hand. The consistency was another stand out characteristic. It was curly, wiry, bushy, and stiffer than Tungsten. Some would say it looked like a Brillo Pad, while others saw it as more like corrugated cardboard. And the front, oh my, the front of his head!! Rising from the top of his forehead was a right triangle of hair that looked like the Bonzai Pipeline careening backwards to the ocean from which it sprang.

Not all of this fibrous aberration was natural. Joe had a medicine cabinet full of hair care products. He had gels, sprays, mousse, several different brushes, and even a can of Minwax. That’s why he received the moniker “Hair Care”, he was also labeled, “Safety” because he enjoyed doing the “Safety Dance” whenever “Men Without Hats” came on the radio or MTV. Unfortunately, he also did the dance in public, whenever the urge hit him. One other unfortunate hygiene note about Joe, while the rest of us testosterone laden young men were using Right Guard or Mennen to quash our stench, Joe’s deodorant of choice was “Tussy”. I know that he will be glad that I informed you of that fact.

Anyway, now everyone has a brief introduction to Joe Hair Care. We did some whacky things back in the day. We even drank “Champagne Velvet” back then. Of course, that was before my palate became more sophisticated and demanded “Wild Irish Rose”. Tomorrow, a taste of a few of the madcap antics of Hair-Care and the Matt-Man….Cheers.

And Now Our Moment of Hinn…

Today, once again, the Founder and President of Trinity Broadcasting Network:

“My favorite time in the garden is in the evening sitting out in the gazebo with friends having snacks and cocktails.”

--Paul Crouch