Can you hear the thunder?

That's the sound of the Hammers coming for you Sharky, and/or the sound of crappy English heavy metal.  Luckily the literal thunder (both the weather and hard rock varieties) stayed away and we were merely subjected to oppressive humidity.   The metaphorical thunder on the other hand was very much present. We were awesome. That's pretty much it. Offense - check. Defense - check. Face catches, dolphin catches, and reach around catches - sadly lacking. Actual catches,  great cuts,  passes that went to intended targets, and points - check check check and 12x check. We didn't quite finish them on points (sorry Armsy!) but we did dominate and played very well as a team.  And Greg got a point.  And as always it was a very enjoyable and relaxed game against Sharky and crew.

Now, on to more serious matters. I'd like to take a minute and talk about pets and how they are trying to kill us all. I submit exhibit A:

Recently, one of our very own was stricken with mono, putting his poor, helpless spleen in grave danger:

My knowledge of anatomy is pretty much limited to things on the outside, but I'm 90% sure AA's spleen is the blue one.

Some will have you believe mono is caused by a virus, some will tell you it is called "Epstein-Barr", and some will say it can be cured by modern medicine.  I tell you they are all wrong.  Think about the symptoms: fatigue, lethargy, weakness.  Who else displays all these traits on a daily basis?  That's right, THE COMMON HOUSE-CAT.

I'm cute, I'm lazy, and I'm gonna PUT YOU TO SLEEP bitches!!!

AA may have been concerned about spreading this "virus" to family and pets, but he got it wrong.  It's the pets trying to turn us all into a bunch of feckless, lazy bums.  If they had their way, we'd all be draped over our desks at work, limbs dangling, only changing position to lick our own asses and chase bugs.  Not a bad life (except the hairballs of course), but still, I would prefer not to have to use the washroom in a box of gravel.

Point is, keep an eye on those furry bastards, and keep your spleens covered!

What cats dream about - straight shot to the spleen!