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Epic all-situation survivor's kit,
December 24, 2009
This review is from: Wenger 16999 Giant Swiss Army Knife (Tools & Home Improvement)First of all, let me tell you a little about myself and how I came to need such mystical tools of survival.
In the beginning, I was born from the ashes of Lincoln and Roosevelt then raised by Hemingway, a troop of firefighters, and werewolves. I was taught to fight evil of all forms from politics to the undead. I can tell you from experience, there has never been a tool half as useful as the Wenger - The Giant Knife. Let me give you a brief example from yesterday:
I woke up after my amazing night's rest in the Wenger's king size murphy bed (with satin sheets). Once the women were dressed and out the door, I made coffee from the Wenger's cappuccino machine. Then I headed out the door, Wenger in hand.
I came across a two old women selling crochet crosses. I pulled my Wenger out of my pants to get to my wallet. The ladies saw this and died in ecstasy just at the size of my Wenger. Now Armed with two crochet crosses, I went to the cave.
This cave was the home of a 58 mouthed snake that looked more like a chainsaw blade than a snake. After traveling 5 miles on the Wenger's hoverboard, I reached the treasure surrounded by the serrated beast. I unfolded my 3 Spartan army and easy bake oven from the Wenger and went into battle. After 15 minutes, the 3 Spartan's had dismantled the toothy monster's 58 mouths just as my cupcakes were ready. The four of us enjoyed my marbled chocolate-vanilla cupcakes (with sprinkles) while counting the treasure and mocking the mouthless snake that lay before us.
After counting the treasure, I pulled out the Wenger's Millennium Falcon and obliterated the Spartans. Seriously, I obliterated Spartans with the Wenger. I think that alone is enough reason to get one! Anyway, Spartans suck at sharing.
I flew out of the cave in the Wenger's Millennium Falcon and crossed the River of Desolation just east of The Mountain of Despair. I was hungry, so I pulled out the Wenger's giant spider legion and they shot down 4 flying dragons with their dark matter tusk lasers. It was pretty cool. Lunch was alright.
I remembered the crocheted crosses the old ladies left me. Their memory should be honored. So, I went to my local vampire castle. If you know anything about Twilight, then you know that everything you once knew about vampires is completely wrong. Inside the castle, there were dozens of tragically fake "glistening" vampires pining over this wimpy goth chick. The tension and virginity was so thick and everlasting that the only thing I could do was slay them all. I pulled out the Wenger's entertainment system and played the first Twilight movie. Mission... accomplished. I put the two crocheted crosses over the Vampire King's eyes. "You're welcome, old broads."
Now that I'm exceedingly bored, I pulled out the Wenger's hot air balloon and went to the moon. Moon men are pretty cool dudes.
I got to the moon just in time to catch the double sunset. I pulled out New York City from the Wenger and sat in the crown of the Statue of Liberty watching the Moon's double sunset with some chicks I found and a couple moon men drinking burnt martinis. Again, moon men are pretty cool dudes.
We partied all night inside this sweet party tent in the Wenger. Chicks love party tents. You wouldn't think a full wet bar would be something you'd ever use in a pocket knife, but it really comes in handy. And it makes the Wenger - The Giant Knife worth it, even if you don't drink.
That's all I can remember from yesterday. The pictures afterward were hilarious. I almost lost it when the penguins arrived. I must of gotten the Extreme Wenger because I didn't know the Arctic Circle was one of the tools. But even if you don't get a Wenger with the Arctic Circle... still worth getting. I highly recommend it.
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I followed a link from Ace of Spades to find that little rhubarb on Amazon. Why do I bother to write anything after reading that outstanding piece?
Back to our trip;
Saturday morning was a bit hazy (It was cloudy) so we hopped in the family truckster to look for morning vittles. We turned right out of the Hilton and headed East. The speed limit on the island is 35, so there were packs of bicycle riders emboldened by our slow speed.
The wind was blowing strong form the North so it was cold and not so happy out. We trudged slowly down miles of white sandy beach with the occasional homestead to break the view.
After a long while, we found our selves at the end of the island, so we made an arbitrary left turn and pulled into a grass roofed complex of party shacks. There we found a small restaurant/bar which served an excellent brekky. I mean the eggs were too hot along with the coffee and such. That never happens at restaurants anymore, they are supposed to let your order sit and cool to the mandatory room temperature, right?
The winds were howling as we departed. I got a photo of a sailboat that had dragged anchor in the night. Sucks to be them! At least the seas could not rise up and flog the boat to pieces, like what could have happened on the Gulf side.
We drove across the Navarre Bridge to Gulf Breeze, and made our way down US 98 headed to the.
There was no way we were going to miss out on visiting that old tourist destination! I used to go there regularly during my stay in Pensacola (Back in 1982...).
The problem for the day was that it was freakishly cold out there and I forgot how to get to the bar. I thought it was on Hwy 98, but there was another left turn I missed. We wound up having to look on line of the I-Phone. Damned useful, that phone is.
We got there about Noon and the bar was looking pretty ragged compared to our old memories. That, and the hurricanes that had completely destroyed the bar back in 2006. We chatted for awhile and had a coke with the oyster shucker lady. Turns out that she is from Kalamazoo Michigan.
Everybody in my life is from Michigan, it seems.
|Lots of graffiti and bumper stickers. Like Wall Drugs, in South Dakota.|
|They tested the snow machine and the drinkers were offended.|
|No idea why the servers were drying their unmentionables over the dance floor.|
|Everywhere, expensive foundation garments.|
|This is the second floor request and tip line for the band.|
|View of the Gulf from the Florabama.|
|Another method of separating the tourists from their quarters.|
|A crystal chandelier lives at the Florabama.|
|Upstairs outdoor bar. Arctic style.|
|Everywhere, laundry dries.|
|Just so you know: Method #1 of avoiding the Cover Charge.|
There was a snow machine cranking up in the out door bar area and there were four Marines in Dress Blues looking kind of out of place. The 2Lt looked about seventeen and the Master Sergeant was prolly twenty five. Santa was going to air drop into the beach and give/receive presents at 1400.
It was too cold to stay, and besides our hotel was twenty miles away. Wouldn't make sense to have a beer or three and have to stay at another no-tell motel while our gear was at the Hilton. So off we went back to Pensacola Beach, disappointed with our jaunt to that fabled club on the Florida-Alabama border.
We got back in time to walk over to Sliders to watch the Army-Navy game. Even the Sports bar was relatively empty. We ate some burgers and I drank about six draft PBR's while watching the Army take the loss. Ok time but not noteworthy.
Off to the Dock, next door. Of the four places we visited from our past, the Dock looked like we remembered. Very slow in there, we sat alone at the large bar chatting with the bartender. Like a fool, I started drinking Rum. There was no drinkable beer on tap, just the Anheiser-Miller krep. And Yuengling.
My problem with Rum is that I like it. And drink it fast as if it were beer.
We met a 60ish Gent who came in with a couple of young wimmins. (His Daughters, or something like that) We started chatting and having a nice time. He mentioned that he was a retired Marine (Colonel, of course) and I replied with "Everyone's a Marine, even me."
I said that I had been a reserve Marine 32 years ago and went on to the Navy, blah-blah-blah. That was okay with him, so we got to have a drink, or so more before we departed. Nice guy, he invited us to some Irish Pub on Sunday afternoon and we said we would consider popping by.
We headed home to the hotel before I got to really hitting the rum and we were home in bed by 2130.
Brekkies at the hotel at 0830, Sunday. It. Was. Freezing. Outside. Temps were in the low forties.
I was starting to really feel like winter was trying to target my good time.
The decision to walk the pier was made and we trudged across the tundra (Parking Lot) to the entrance. The person in the tourist shop stopped us and said we had to pay $1.25 each. I gave him a twenty just to see if he could make change. The Pier was even more frigid, and there was a number of hardy fishing folks. Fish was being brought in and we saw many coolers filled with large examples of the prey. One Asian family was really working it, they had a couple coolers with two foot fish flopping around on the dock waiting their turn to enter the blessed relief of the ice chest. Either they were going to use their catch at a restaurant or they were going to fill some freezers with the frutti de mare. I admired the hard work in bringing in all that fish!
But they gave me the stink eye for observing them from 20 feet away. I did not bother trying to get a photo, they may have attacked us thinking that we would steal.
|The lonely beach ball|
|The Dock in the light of day.|
|Scoopin' up the cigarette butts|
|The Asian family hard at work making a living.|
|This one .22 bullet that happened to be on the dock.|
|I managed to get a shot of one of the dinner selections|
|The Hilton is the middle bldg.|
|Tourist trap where we bought stuff. Military discount!|
|At the Irish Pub|
|That's our buddy Phil, from the night before. He is well known at the Irish place.|
After freezing, we decided to warm up in the room for the afternoon. A bottle of Champagne was opened along with a jug o' orange juice and we mixed Mimosas. The television was turned on and we set awhile luxuriating in the new found warmth. By 1500 we felt we should make a move or take naps, so we took off for the Irish Pub on the Pensacola Beach. It was a very Local's kind of place but they were nice. Phil was there and introduced us to his friends. We spent a couple of nice hours getting to know everyone and soon enough it was 1730, time to head home for dinner.
Back to the Hilton, we watched the last two minutes of the Denver game with the Bar folks. Fun! Soon, we sat for steak dinners with the obligatory wine. Dessert was a plate of cheese, and no Port! I asked, no insisted that our server go across the street and acquire some Sandeman Port!
We tipped them well, to say the least. That was the end of our weekend.
The drive back to Jacksonville was rainy and gloomy. At least it got warmer as we got closer to home.
Wonderful, but cold weekend!