Meat is meat, and man’s gotta eat

Did you all see Motel Hell? Where the motel proprietors bury their guests in the ground with their heads sticking out, cultivate them, and then make them into sausage? Well, anyway …
Every morning I take little Deedlehead out for her run. This morning I ran into a friend and was telling her about the new fancy market in town that has grassfed, hormone-free beef. I told her I was planning to get some for hubby’s birthday (Wednesday, and it’s a Big One). She said she had grassfed, hormone-free steaks from her mother’s cow, so I went to her house, and she pulled out a frozen packet of rib-eye steak for me. I then ran home, Deedle on leash on one arm and the other arm clutching a packet of steaks. Don’t you love weird scenes like that?
Okay, so I am ready to get my photo gallery of finished projects going, but my insane brother keeps ignoring my pleas for assistance. I was going to ask y’all to e-mail and bug him, but, well, he is volatile and INSANE, so I am fearful of his retaliatory remarks. If you do contact him, please be very, very careful; otherwise, please send strong vibes, or maybe if we all concentrate hard enough, we can force a really bad song into his head that will repeat over and over? Like Girls Just Want to Have Fun or, um, that Hey Mickey, you’re so fine song!