Happy Hunting.

They freak out every year I show up to the hunt with a crossbow. It's not my fault these kids don't take this egg-hunting business seriously. I play for keeps; so stay out of my way.

At least there were minimal casualties this year and a whole lot of plastic filled eggs [enough with the hard-boiled ones already]. One plastic egg was actually filled with cocaine, but I won't say which Uncle is easily mistaken as a successful Columbian drug lord; that's another hunt in itself with the FDA...or the Health Inspector.

Win of the day: finding that one, precious, gold egg that I then fertilized with my man love. To my cousin's girlfriend, you're welcome.

Happy Easterz.