My apologies. Though you're a bit of a Muenster to bring me into this. As a true American, and a CaerPhilly in particular, I should be a Wiz at cheese puns. Pay me some cheddar and I'll Limburger up my skills. Though I'm inclined to drink my Port, Salut you, and thank you for bringing cheese into the picture. (Not that good on sausage puns, in this casing.)
Actually, I had a busy weekend trying out new ski boots in the Poconos before a trip out west next week. Ice, crowds, vertical drop of no more than about 800 feet, and runs lasting all of about 60 seconds. Maybe I should have stayed home and worked on puns.
But hey, speaking of cheese wiz*, the "Igles" won tonight. The hollers from all the units in my condo building were drowned out by the screaming on the street. And there were more horns honking than when the taxis used to go on strike. Then everyone streamed to Broad Street to try to climb the greased light poles. We actually used game-time to drive home from the mountains in the lightest traffic I can remember. Now we're hunkering down to avoid the drunken crowds.
*Proper ordering etiquette**: "One, wit, wiz."
**If you want something fairly disgusting, IMO. Better to get Provolone than wiz anyday.
