I am almost done with vacation…a well-deserved one in my opinion (your actual opinion my vary. I am currently at the airport in Las Vegas, waiting for my (now delayed) plane. I am on a layover (Not that kind of layover, but what happens in Vegas…), and am bored out of my mind.  I am tired of the slot machines…although the Star Wars ones seem pretty cool…

Not Droids.
Not Droids.

I spent last week in Sacramento on vacation. For the first time in YEARS, I was able to enjoy the 4th of July with my family. It’s a (pun intended) blast. The capper to the night was the immolation of over $1000 in fireworks.  We celebrated our Nation’s independence the only way Real Americans should…by blowing shit up.

Oh say can you...RUN!!!!
Oh say can you...RUN!!!!

After that, the week was a collection of memories. From Golf with my in-laws, to a day trip to San Francisco, and all points in the middle…I had fun. And I want to come back.

However, I must stop, my laptop battery is croaking. However, to close this missive, the guy sitting next to me has a freakin’ bar code tattooed on his arm. You read correctly, A BAR CODE!  I really want to look it up to see what it is for…or how much this yutz thinks he’s worth. What are you…a steak?

Scan me...I'm special, and $1.99 a pound.
Scan me...I'm special, and $1.99 a pound.

Tattoo fail.


Author: Lance Ballance

No TV and No Beer make Lance...something something...

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