DOG IN A SWEATER DOT COM!

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We took a nice trip to Cambodia, a delayed honeymoon if you will.  See the "Photo Journal" link above for a boatload
of pictures.  I also took a bunch of snaps with my "real" cameras, those photos will follow later. 

Also: It looks like our resident grappler has returned from the dead!  Read below for a new installment of Turnbuckle
Talk.  It seems our boy nearly got himself mauled by a bear...I'm sure those years of boy scout training came in handy.

Turnbuckle Talk with the American Starship Eagle

Picked up a Leinenkugel and thought that a keyboard would go well with it, so it is time to give all you little mouth
breathers an update on what your pal has been doing.   Communiqués have been sparse due to the recent holiday
season and an obnoxious tour that had me by the eyelashes: Tealeaf Terror 2007.  What the hell you ask – my exact
words to my manager, Lieutenant Leroy St. Clair.   The good Lieutenant put it like this, "My boy, do you like king
cobras and four-armed, horny elephants…if so, we're going on a trip that will milk your prostate."

Damn, if he was not right; it was nothing short of 36 weeks of riding God's index finger.  However, there was one blip
on the radar that I have got to share with my friends.   We were finishing up our last night in Darjeeling and the
Lieutenant tells me that the company wants me to help put this new guy over.  To which I answered, "Of course, the
Eagle will trade fisticuffs with any creature…including cripples."

Well, that was foolish.  I get in the ring and there it is – Bruce "The Daddy Bear" DeBeau.   Not only did he make me
feel like whiskey breath telling me to keep this "our little secret," but his little crony frightened the pudding out of me as
well.  That bastard was wormy, pasty and decked out in a pair of overalls that would have made Dexy's Midnight
Runners proud.  

As I am processing all of this, Bruce sashays over and locks me in an inverted-Russian bear hug, with a French tickler.  
Listen - try having a John Oates mustache standing between you and the belt, while getting squeezed through the
glory hole of life.  I will stop just short of admitting it, but there was a brief moment when thoughts of a problem danced
around my head.   However, like Momma said I could, I quickly sacked up, dropped a Ronnie Garvin fist of stone on his
ass and followed it with the European gutter cutter…the kid holds serve.