And now, the end is near

John, Kevin, Elliot and I just got through manhandling a 120cm x 90cm x 60cm fish tank, lugging the thing down three flights of stairs, onto a truck, and into Ryan's house. Needless to say, we are all beat. My house now looks like Liberia, and I have a lot of cleaning to do, but it's a start.

In other news, the weekend games report goes something like this (since some six foot six monkey won't report unless it contributes to the legend he has created in his own mind):

• On Friday night, Bread opened a six pack of whoop ass on the boys, prompting him to say thank you for treating him so kindly on his final night of hosting. Ponce (that's Chaon to the uninformed) got destroyed and mutilated, but pretended to be so drunk that he forgot how much he really lost.
• On Saturday, Ponce teamed with Michael in A&A, only to lose to the benevolent and kind Malv, proving the theory that one old fart is better than two old farts any day.
• On Sunday, that same Ponce told that same Malv that he was a fool for moving his queen out so early, then proceeded to watch as Malv check mated him three moves later. Game Time: about three sips of Budweiser.

Fellow bloggers, please keep me posted of the REAL game reports while I am in America. Getting news only from Chaon would be like reading the Guardian over and over again for the rest of my life -- a good read, so long as you don't care about facts...