An Old Hippie...

An Old Hippie...

Friday.  Payday baby.

At lunch I went out, put in a to-go order at 101 Sports Bar (My new favorite place, Worldly run and former Jax Beach boy owned - thanks Keith and Jon) and then hit the bank.

Going to the bank in Puerto Rico... hmmm, how can I explain this one to you.

Getting to Banco Popular...here's the breakdown.

First off traffic can get backed up for a mile on the Isla Verde strip just by the line of cars waiting to enter the bank parking lot.  Once you actually get the greenlight to enter the parking lot by the Security Guard/Parking Guy, you enter and then only at your own risk, cause from there it's every man for himself.  If you take the patient route like I do and opt for a parking spot rather than hit the drive thru then it's a little less hectic.  Still, it's a vicious game- just picture bumper cars at the local Fair and then know that that's still the P.G. version.

So now your at the bank.  And then you enter, right.   Wrong?  You have to wait in line just to get into the door.  One person at a time.  Each separate custome has to enter through a set of security doors that scans your for guns, explosives, and low-grade nuclear missles.

Then you're in.  And then there's a line that requires about an average wait of 20 -30 minutes.

Sounds like a pain in the butt, huh?  Well I'll say this-  I'd gladly take this routine anytime rather than deal with those GANGSTER SONS OF BITCHES known as Bank of America.  Just recently I accidently overdrew my Bank of America account in the States by $9.25 on several diffent purchases without realizing.  Overdrawn $9.25... The result- $420.00 in overdraft fees (this is the real figure, no innuendo intended.)

When I called them I got the usuall So Sorry, Sir, There's nothing we can do.  Have a nice day.  In giant Corporate Bank talk this translates to:  Sucks for You, but that's just the way it is.  You're in our world buddy and we gotta you by the short and curlies and there's nothing you can do about it.  You're one of the little people.  You're just another number to the Giant.  Now screw off and pay up.  And oh yeah. Have a nice day.

Yeah, Bank of America- Tony Montana of Scarface has nothing on them Loansharking Bastards.

Just Another Number in a Stadium of Short and Curlies.

And Banco Popular - Todo Bien- I'll take you fine folks over B.0.A. any day of the week.

So there I was.  I entered the bank and Adios Mio!  There's hardly a line.

Bingo!

I'm waiting less than two minutes and I hear those great words.  Adelante Por Favor.

Yes.  I'm in.

I get to the counter strapped, ready, and prepared to do business.  I've been through this song and dance before.

Check- Aqui.  License- Aqui  Phone Number- No Problemo (and it never hurts to throw in a little Como Estas Amiga- The check out girls are all knockouts {You'd dig em the most J.T.})

And there I was.  Waiting for her to make the simple transaction.  And then I noticed it.  A subtle, but obvious smile.  The more she tried to restrain herself the more she began to shake with small little seizures of giggles.

Que Pasa?

I looked around, behind me first and then at the other tellers.  And then I looked down at her hands behind the counter and it hit me.

My Florida Driver's License.  Gets Em everytime.

I laughed with her and nodded my head.

Era un espalda poco tonta en el día. Espera. Yo stil es tonto, acabo de mirar un poco diferente ahora.

Translation: I used to be a little silly back in the day. Wait. I still am silly, I just look a little different now.

She nods and giggles some more and then couldn't resist showing it to the teller next to her.

Yuk it up Ladies, Yuk it up.

They laughed and the other teller said at a soft giggle  Un Hippie Viejo

The word ''old'' and ''hippie'' I had no trouble picking up on.

No wait a second here Mamasitas, I thought with an amused smile,  Who you callin a hippie?  And who you callin old? What the fuck?  No guapo (handsome) or maybe even a good old fashion Machisimo?

And then the cute teller hands me back my license and I gave it a quick once over.

It'd been a while since I'd seen it and I forget sometimes about the photo or how I ended up with it.  Let's just say that back in the day one of my favorite things to do was get a little buzzed and cruize on in to the local DMV for a new license- that's right, go right into the mouth of the beast with no fear.  Only downside is when you mellow out the next day you look at your Photo and ask the age old obligatory question:  What the fuck was I thinking?

Yup, one loco Gringo here.

Ah well, if it gives a cute Puerto Rican bank teller a laugh it's all good.  I just hope it goes the same for the cops.  Haven't been pulled over yet but I'm sure that check's in the mail with the way I drive in order to keep up with the other local Vaqueros (Cowboy and P.R. slang for crazy drivers).  Actually, now that I think about it I'm sure that the Photo would work to my advantage-  It's one of the few times being a stupid looking Gringo round' these parts comes in handy-  when pulled over just act like a tourist, speak a little horrible Spanish, and just act... well act like an American damnit!

So I take my license, scoop up the small amount of cash that my slavedriver of a boss calls a paycheck (like I've always said before- no brownie points here for being the boss's son- what I wouldn't do for a little nepotism) and begin to walk away. 

Buenas Dias, the teller says to me as I go to turn.  And then I catch it.  That slight smile, that little gleam in the eye, that subtle but obvious look that says Don't worry, you're cool. Mas o Menos. (More or less)

I blurt a pitiful Buenas Dia back at her and shoot her a wink.  One last giggle. Bingo.

As I walk out of the bank the words dawn on me once more.   An old hippie.

Good enough.  I think back of those days and realize that they're still here.  Might look a little different, hairs a bit shorter with the warranty running out day by day, might be sporting a couple of extra pounds (but that's going quickly as well thanks to all the good waves and beautiful ocean I've been enjoying), and my work costume of a shirt sleeved collared shirt and khaki pants might be a slight difference from the baggies and beard I was once so accustomed to, but it's all so still the same.

Who you calling Hippie, Mamasita?

An old hippie.

I think back and I think forward.  I think now and I think then.  And then I think of a few friends.

Who they callin'Old Hippie, Nate Dog?

Trevor with his Daughter Bella. Love this photo.  But as far as the "hippie" label goes, it gives it a perspective of pure beauty and love- the way it should be.

Up, up, and away boys.

And as far as a few others, take a gander at this one:

How bout' this bunch.  Damn, that was a long time ago.  And yet, like yesterday my friends... 





An old hippie. If only she knew.

Mas o Menos.

I'm stil the same old, fun loving dumb ass as ever.  Only now there's just some new responsibilities that have come my way.  Only now every day that passes has been the best day of my life, even when I do get mugged by a fucking Midget (See September Post- The Fucking Guys).

Life is good and it just keeps getting better.  And the future... well where I'm going I've always known.  As much as I love it here, and as I know I will be here for a grateful long time, I now realize more than ever that even after so much time, I'm going home.

Our Land in Costa.  Love this Ranch.  And it still there... just beyond the horizon.  Waiting...

Waiting...

And Our Horse Nick is still waiting too.

And I guess there's just one more question.

Anyone else wanna come?

It's a long bridge but we'll get there.

And you're all welcome.

The Magic Cookie Mistake

Matt and I laughing at his Oceanside Condo. Plush!

So was at work this morning in P.R. and I get a phone call from my buddy Matt down the road.

MATT:  Hey Link, can you still give me a ride to the airport this afternoon?

LINK:  Ah man, no can do.  I know we talked about it but it turns out that the big meeting I was telling you about is right around your dropoff time so it's a no go.  Be happy to pick you up when you get back in a couple of weeks.

MATT:  No worries I'll cab it (we live about a 5 minute drive from the Airport).  But if you don't mind can you swing by here and drop me off my mic and copy of Rosetta Stone. 

Sidenote:  The Rosetta Stone. I thought it was the answer to my Spanish Speaking dreams.  It's supposed to be the best Tutorial Software out there and promises it can teach you any language in a matter of days.  I think I used it once with the Microphone that you're supposed to speak in for enunciation testing and then felt ridiculous.  Shortly after I decided it was much more efficient to go out to a bar, slam down about 5 or 6 cold ones, and communicate with the locals.  Seriously, I do that, ánd I'm ripping in Spanish- only after a few more my English starts to suffer.  But the Espanol is A-OK during this self-prescribed Spanish lesson. It's just another example of how I am always willing to take one for the team!  What can I say, I'm a good guy.

So where were we... oh yeah.

LINK:  Sure Matt, be right over.

So I head over towards his place which is about a mile away, all the while dealing with this Roller Coaster the Puerto Ricans call streets and highways, and even get a little lost- I've only been to Matt's place about ten times and you might ask how in the hell could I get lost with such a short distance but then obviously you don't know me or my sense of direction or this crazy island.  

Matt meets me downstairs in the street from his Oceanside Condo.

Me at Matt's condo, talking on the phone a few nights ago with Nate Dog in Oregon.  Great View of San Juan in the background.

 I hand him the Disc and Mic.

LINK:  Thanks for the loner, brother.

MATT:  Sure, no problem.  And here's a little gift for you.

He smiles and hands me a tray of fresh fruit and says that their going to go bad while he's gone and I might as well have them.  Thanks again.  And then he releases a wide, glowing smile and hands me a bag of homemade chocolate chip cookies in a clear ziploc bag.

MATT:  And you might enjoy these.  Made them myself.  They're Magic Man.

LINK:  Yeah buddy. Thanks bro. See you when you get back. Late.

Not paying much attention to what he said I flip a bitch and zip on back to the office, not wanting to be late to this meeting.  Before I hit the office downstairs I run upstairs and drop off the fruit in the fridge and throw the COOKIES on the counter.  Then I rush downstairs and prep for a busy day and the several  meetings we have planned with customers and vendors.

The first meeting goes well-  damn, I love doing business nowadays, and I go back and chill at my desk.  Then I get a beep on my cell phone signaling that I have a TEXT message.  I glance down and see:

MATT:  No worries on the Airport Drop off.  They stuck me on a 3:30 flight anyway... I went from barely making my plane to being 3 hours early.  Anyway, see you when I get back, and enjoy the COOKIES.  Careful, they're strong.

Oh, that's nice, I think and go back to work.  And then it hit's me. 

Wait. 

They're Magic Man.  and Careful, they're strong.

Cookies.

Oh shit, where's my Dad?

Uh huh hey guys, I suddenly shout out around the office.  Where's my Dad?

Aribba in el apartamento.

Oh shit.  My Dad upstairs on a lunchbreak loose in the apartment with a bag of HOMEMADE
BAG OF MAGIC COOKIES lying around.

OH FUCK!

When it comes to sweets and delights the Cookie Monster on Crack has nothing when compared to my Dad.  I'm constantly finding his stashes of chocolates and other sweets and throwing them out, only to find another stash the next day.  It's a constant effort to keep up with him and try to get him a little healthier.  I'm a bit of a hypocrite myself but the fact of the matter is that this business would never work without him and I need the big son of a bitch to be as healthy as possible.  And when it comes to sneaking guilty sweets and other delights he's worse than a little kid.

And worse than anything he has no idea what Magic Cookies are or what the results can be when you munch a handful of them down.

So yeah- OH FUCK!

I run upstairs and burst into the apartment.   I look on the kitchen counter first and see nothing.  Just an empty spot.

SHIT!

Then I zip over to his bedroom, knock on his door and push it open. 

VACANT!

Again, SHIT!

Where could he be?  We've got a huge meeting in an hour and he's gotta be there and on the ball and oh no... could he have eaten the whole bag of cookies earlier and become so zonked out that he's now out wandering the streets aimlessly and singing Niel Diamonds greatest hits to all the neighbors he passes.

Shit!

I run downstairs wondering whether or not I should begin my search.  Without saying a word and wanting to hit the panic button completely I glance out in the Marquisina (the Garage) and see that his car is gone.  I run back into the office.

Donde es me Padre?  I ask, almost shouting as I inquire to the old man's whereabouts.

El salió para almorzar.

He went out for lunch?  Could he have eaten the cookies without me noticing.  Could he have eaten all those cookies, the whole bag... before I even finish the thought two things hit me.

1.  Of course the big man could of eaten the whole bag- that's lightweight stuff for El Jefe.

2.  And oh yeah, I forgot I hid the bag in my closet upstairs at the last second for safekeeping.

Feeling like I'd eaten a cookie or two myself, I run upstairs to make sure.  Coast is clear.  The MAGIC COOKIES are safe and secure and tucked away in my closet.

It's then that I decide two things.

1.  To tell my Dad this story because he knows my vices and my own personal tastes, and most of all trusts me and would crack up at the story.

And he did too.  Here El Jefe is eating a normal sweet.  Gracias Adios para me suerte.

2.  To save the bag of MAGIC COOKIES for a special time.  It's no big deal for me, for those that know me know that my tastes and preferences have always been for a few cold ones and maybe throwing down a shot or two- you know, getting down the old fashion way. 

So yeah, gonna save the cookies for a special occasion.  And I've figured out what-  Gonna save them and give them to the first friend that gets their butt down here to the Caribbean to visit me.

Just one last question to ask.

Who's it gonna be?

Gotta back of Magic waiting on you in the meantime.  Who's it gonna be?

20 Foot Boa Constrictor Coming- Happy 10th B-Day River

Boa "Samson" to big for me to Handle at my place in Puerto Rico.  Thank Goodness April's cool with letting me ship him to Oregon for her son River's 10th Birthday.  Happy 10th buddy!

O.K. Here's the breakdown.

A while back ago I posted FUN WEEKEND, GATORS, OLD SAN JUAN AND THE ANIMAL WISH LIST (see September Posts), and in the end I described how I was bored and hollered at all the Kids, the one's that all my horny friends are constantly reproducing, from all across the U.S. and asked each one of them if they could have any animal, any animal at all, what would it be?

Point is, my man River (Nate and April's Son in Oregon) politely asked for a snake. 

And I mean politely.

What a good kid- you two did well.

 

River, at age uh... I don't know how to tell what a kid's age is- just a while back ago- good enough.

And now Uncle Lincoln's here for you, buddy!

 Now he didn't specify what kind of snake so I politely took it upon myself and assumed he meant something simple and easy-  And what better form of a simple reptile than a 20 Foot Boa Constrictor. 

And today's his Birthday.  And remember people, when it all comes down to it it's always about the Kids, ain't it.  And Uncle Lincoln always delivers.

So I've made arrangements through my various contacts to deliver this sweet little, cold blooded, kitty squeezing, bundle of love to his mother's doorstep AND well... let's just go with the TEXTS his mother and I exchanged once I announced my gracious  and caring gift:

LINK:  Ape, I got Exotic Import and Export Company on the other line and they need to know which House to deliver the 20 Foot Boa Constrictor to for River's B-Day.  So... Nate's house or yours?

Simple and to the point.  I always keep my promise, especially to the kiddos.  And then I get this:

APRIL:  OMG!  I will cut you!

Now with all humility and respect, I ask you guys- is that appropriate.  Where's the love?  So I respond:

LINK:  Chill baby!  I was just kidding- the people at the Export Company  say that Samson (that's his name) is only 18 feet long.(I mean a 20 footer is a little excessive ain't it?)  See Facebook for photos and delivery times.  Luv ya!

Simple, direct and to the point- just ole Uncle Lincoln's style.  I mean what good, honest, fun-loving 10 year old wouldn't love a 20 Foot Boa.  Why all the fuss?

And then the response:

APRIL:  Ha Ha.  I love you Lincoln but I will fly my ass down there and hurt you!

Again, why the negative and violent response.  Maybe it's because I've done a LOT OF MILES with my friend April and she know that there's a good chance that I'm halfway serious.  With this in mind I politely respond:

LINK:  Quit being so selfish my dear.  It's all about the Kids ain't it?  EXOTIC EXPORTS tell me Samson has never bitten anyone ever (just strangled a kitten once) So Trust Me!  Where's the faith?

And she rolls:

APRIL:  You are too much!  He will love it!  Although Samson will need to live with Nathan since we just took in a stray kitten.

Fair Enough.

Now here's the kicker, my dear friend.  This is really happening- in one way or another.  But I do promise, my man River will have his snake. 

Oh yes, buddy, you will have it.

So hold tight.  Have a little faith.  And it's on.

You might just want to lock down the kittens in the neighborhood for a while until Samson gets settle.

Happy Birthday River.  You got a great Mom and Dad there. 

And Uncle Lincoln never forgets.

And niether does Uncle Dave-O!

Watch Out! Lori's Pissed!

Oh - She's Pissed! (no pun intended)

On the last Post I was winding up a long and awesome day and posted the first couple of Pics that I came across.  I almost forgot I posted them.

Oh boy, did I get a reaction.

Lori Meyer texts/emails/ and calls me in the morning.  Whew was she steamin'!  Our conversation was similiar to her emails/text.  Went a little something like this:

How could you have posted that terrible picture of me on there?!?! i am going to kill you!!!!

Oh baby!  I love it! 

Remember, we've all done a lot of miles together and I've collected a lot of gems over the years.  Photos like these are priceless.  And man, oh man, do I know there are those of you out there that have some good ones of my dumb, silly ass.  But everything out there is fair game in my opinion.  You play nice and I'll play nice.  If not, well just see August Post titled:  You know how I know you're gay? It's on Rhino!

And Lori Love, what can I say.  My bad.  I really didn't shoot that up there to be mean or mischievious.  So just because I do love you so much... here's a few more that I hope will meet with your approval.

Is this a little better, sweetheart?

And then there's a gem like this.  Now quit your whining and make me a sandwhich, bitch!

Love you Lori.

Never Again...

One of my favorites.

Oh my friends.

The day I've had.

And what stories.

Through it all, I've learned a valuable lesson.  

I wish I had more time.  I wish I had the luxury of telling you everything.  I wish I was a better writer and could explain just this day in a nutshell.  Above all,  I wish I had my camera on me for a better frame of reference.

Never again.

I will never leave home without it again. 

A picture is worth a thousand words and then some.

As far as this day, well... I guess this one's mine. 

And now I go forth- and always with a camera.

Till then old friend.

And until then... I leave you with a few good ones from the past.

What are you saying?

Just imagine what we were laughing about...

nuff said.

Dave O... The Funniest Story Ever...

Just got off the phone with Dave O.

My BFF.

The funny part is... he has no clue what that means.

Buck, what the fuck?
(for those that don't know- Dave-O and few other close circle of friends call me Buck- it's a long story)

So here's one for you.

Once upon a time I said this.

Link:  Hey O'Dog, why doncha' just let me set you up with a MySpace account.  You been running with me a long time- and I know it's not your thing... but trust me brother... you'll dig it the most.

Dave O smiles at me, shrugs, and of course...

Dave: Sure, Go for it.

So I set him up.  Photos and all.  He's cocked, locked and ready to Rock on MySpace.

A few days go by.

And then it comes.

Link:  O'Dog, whattaya think of your MySpace Page?

Dave looks, that sincere laugh and look in his eyes, but a little pissed.

Dave:  Oh man, fuck that shit.  I tried to get into it but the moment I started some FAG puts his picture up and won't leave me alone.  And I can't figure out how to get his picture off the site. So yeah, I'm not messing with that crap anymore.

I think for a moment.  Wondering.

Link:  Wait, there's no way.  What Fag?  I created your site so there's no way anyone can jump on board... Who's bothering you?

Dave:  I don't know how the shit works-  Just some fag named Tom posted his picture up on... I guess it's called the Friends thing... and I can't get him off.  So yeah... Buck... It's just not my thing.

I realize who he's talking about and laugh my ass off. 

Tom- The MySpace President- We all got him.

Tom Anderson- MySpace creator and Dave O Stalker

'Seriously, who the fuck is this Tom guy?"

"Dunno.  Bad things maybe, O'Dog... Bad Things."

Damn, I was laughing so hard I couldn't even get the breath to explain it to him.

Dave just shrugged and did his thing.

Dave: Yeah, fuck that shit.  It's not my thing Buck. I'm not messing with MySpace no more.

And to each there own.

Damn my BFF makes me laugh.  Even if he is obsessed with this Tom Guy.

Whoah.

The Catty Shack Ranch- Who Wants to Have Some Fun/ Part 3

The Catty Shack Ranch.  What can I say?  Alrighty then, let's get down to BRASS TAX and a little KITTY I know what you're thinking-  The Catty Shack- That's the Golf Course Bill Murray and his brothers own down at World Golf Village.

WRONG!

(that is Bill Murray visiting by the way)

So much more Sunny Skies.

And it's right around the corner from you.

Jacksonville.  http://www.cattyshack.org/

Good times. Good times.  Bring the kids.

This sweet Kitty (Sarah) never stepped on dirt or gravel in her whole life  (11 years from the time she was a cub) - she was used as a BREEDER in a small concrete cell until they didn't need here in the blackmarket breeding anymore, and then... The Catty Shack Ranch.  And now she's there... just down the road from you.  A hop, skip and a jump.

For those of you that live in Jacksonville and don't know- there is a... well not a secret.... but the next best thing.

The Catty Shack Ranch Wildlife Sanctuary.

This is Danny. Check him out.

And oh yeah... He'll growl everytime you come near his cage.  Just being a pussycat and all.  It rocks.

It's just around the corner from the Jacksonvile Zoo (Alta Drive).  My niece Schuyler, she was smiling until the Kitty's roared. Great Reaction, Huh?

Fun, fun, fun. And not a zoo.  If you slip Curt the owner an extra five bucks he'll let you jump in and wrestle with this one for a while-  Tell em Lincoln sent you- and then he'll probably kick you out.  Laugh. Laugh.  Ha Ha.

And Horsies Too.

Fun Zoo, huh?  Not quite.

Only this baby is different. It's a sanctuary for big Kitty Kats.  A Non Profit Organization for Tigers, Lions. Cougars, Panthers, and Bears oh my. (O.K. maybe not the Bears but I just dig Dorothy sayings)

So let me break this little paradise of a Sanctuary down for you.  Ten Bucks, and then you got it.

http://www.cattyshack.org/

Just Picture the movie Scarface.  You Seen the Movie?  Well when homeboy Tony Montana gets busted and killed ... at the very end and... somewhere along the way the Tiger he bought has gotta go somewhere... and then....

The Catty Shack Ranch.

It's a Good Time.  Check it out at http://www.cattyshack.org/   (just down the street from Jax Airport)

And then of course, were my Kitty Cats. 

I jumped in the cage with these two puppies and Boy oh Boy did I get a reaction.

Just kidding.

But what a blast.

Sometimes the best things... that little sniff of paradise... is right under your nose.

And it's everywhere.

Catty Shack Ranch just happens to be around the corner from Jax Beach.

Good Things.
                 -L.

Jax Beach Trip- Photo Tour- Part 2

O.K., so where were we...

Right.  The Photo Tour.  Well let's rock shall we.

Met up with Trevor "The Private" Gibson.

 I ain't calling you Father, dude- ever.  Although it would make sense for a couple of your kids to call me Papa....Oh!

Trust me guys, he deserves it.

Here we shake and make our peace and set our boundaries for future pranks

Link:  Just don't ever involve your stunts with the Gator game again, cool?

Trevor:  Yeah, cool Buck.

He laughs and I know that it's bullshit.  In the Circle and when it comes to pulling practical jokes- nothing's sacred!

My brother Coop and I shaking on a bet about quitting smoking.  See my letter to Marlboro and Phillip Morris Company entitled You Sneaky Motherfuckers-  Coming Soon.

Leo, Trevor's son, looking at me.

Leo: What do you want now, Papa?

Lincoln:  Nuthin' kid, just taking a pic- and don't call me Papa, your Dad doesn't know yet. (oh it's so on!)

At some point in time I was downtown and snapped a shot of Tebow Turtle here. 

Interesting Fact from the Lincoln Almanac:  Tebow Turtle here used to sport the #15, Tim Tebows actuall number.  But then his lawyers and handlers came along and ordered a cease and decist to the City of Jacksonville.  Bastards!  Oh well, guess you can't blame them for not wanting to jeoparadize

Superman's NFL Draft eligibilty status.  Understandable.  But I bet that at least ole Tebow Turtle here gets laid from time to time.  Still love ya Timmy.  Even after you got JACKED UP last week!  Whoah!

Trevor and his dog Tebow- No kidding.  Talk about a true Florida Cracker!  Go Gators!

Hit up my buddy Fish at Peppe's pizza in St. Augustine.  Thanks for the free Pie buddy.   If anyone is ever in the area of St. A (Rt. 16) I highly recommend it.  Your first two glasses of water are on me.  Tell em' Lincoln sent you!

Speaking of Pizzaria's... This is a great story.

During my trip I decided to call up Fontano's Pizzeria on Penman road and order a sandwich.  I call from my cell, not really paying attention.  Then the line picks up and I hear...

Voice:  Papa Johns.  Hello Price Transportation- You cheap bastard.

Lincoln:  Huh? Uh... excuse me... is this Fontanos?

Voice:  Yeah, this is Fontano's.  Is this Bruce, how you been ya cheap son of a bitch?

Apparently Allen, the new owner saw my dad's company name on his called ID (I have his old business phone).  Now unbeknownst to me he and my father have been friends for some years and always enjoy throwing insults back at one another.  Once I realized this I cracked up, especially when Allen told me that now that I work for Price Transportation- I'm going to need a can of WD40 (look at the Photo again and notice the can of WD40 in the background) in order to grease up his wallet and shake a couple of Pennies out of him.  Love it.  Can't recommend this place enough.  Again, tell em' Lincoln and Bruce sent ya and see what happens- guarantee a chuckle.

Here I'm at My Stlist- Super Duper Fantastic- with Kelly.  Thanks Girl.  Cuts By Kelly rocks!

The About to be soon Jim Lynch Productions Studios.

Check This Out!

I promise you won't regret it.  It's right next to the building were the Eggs and Bakey Wakey Wakey was- before the owners torched the place for the insurance money.  I believe it's 4th Ave South, Jax Beach.  Also, feel free to check out Jim's Art Work at http://www.jameslynch.info/

He's not only a very good friend and without a doubt the best artist I have ever seen, he's also My Dad on the Silver Screen-  Some of you might recognize him from Mustard Gas and Catnip where he played the father.  Thanks Jim.  Check out his new studio if you get a chance, I promise you'll love it.

The New Studio-  Before Photo

Another Before Photo-   New After Photos coming on my return trip to Jax Beach on Oct. 29th.

Okay, so from there I guess I ended up at the Landshark again.  Big Surprise, huh?

Lee Grisham, Allison, and Terry in background. You guys rock!  And way to be such a good and understanding sport Lee- I swear it's the first and last time I EVER throw a beer at you again.  Thanks for not killing me, buddy.  Good things. Good things.

Okee Doke, that's it for now.  I'm about to get off work here in Puerto Rico and go spear fishing for lobster.  It's a tough life, but someone's gotta do it.  And I'm lovin' it!