It’s Monday. Well, that’s just great. I was all fired up thinking the long wait was finally over and it was time to hear engines roar again with the first NASCAR preseason race on Sunday. But, of course, Mother Nature had other plans. Those plans came in the form of a major East Coast snowstorm that dumped more than eight inches of the horrid white stuff on the Carolinas—right on Bowman Gray Stadium in Winston Salem, North Carolina. NASCAR will race on a road course in the rain, but snow? Yeah, not so much. The entire weekend of racing was wiped out, and the main event got pushed to Monday night to give crews time to clear the track and get things ready for the teams and fans. And judging from the photo above, that’s going to be no small task.

Here in Illinois, the ground is still buried under snow, but at least the temperatures are finally creeping out of the single digits and into the double digits. Normally that wouldn’t be anything to celebrate, but after weeks of negatives and single-digit misery, you take the win wherever you can—even when it’s a small one.

-keep

It’s Friday! I am so done with winter already—and it’s still January. That’s the part that really crushes my soul. The horrid white stuff is everywhere, and the cold isn’t just chilly—it’s extreme. The bone-deep kind that stings your face the instant you step outside and makes you seriously question every life decision that landed you in a place with a forecast like this.

And for what? We’re long past the festive phase of winter. Christmas is over, the lights are packed away, and now all that’s left is drifting snow and negative wind chills. Everything is frozen solid. What really gets me is knowing there are still weeks and weeks of this nonsense ahead. Every weather alert feels personal. Every blast of Arctic air feels completely unnecessary. Nobody wants to go outside—and if you do, you have to layer up like you’re heading out on an Arctic expedition just to run to the store.

At this point, I’m not asking for summer—hell, I’d settle for temperatures nearly above freezing and a glimpse of pavement that isn’t stained with salt. I’m done! Enough already.

Anyway, today I have a double shot of amateur goodness to share with all of you. It should pair well with Friday’s usual tradition of double babes & double jokes. Enjoy!

-keep

Keep, I may be considered old-school but I like a little fuzz on my peach. Not too much, but more than you generally see these days. I’ve attached two more pictures of my wife. My apologies for the crop. -Anonymous

It’s Thursday. Could it be? I think we have another beaver sighting, guys! This one was sent in by a reader with a sharp eye and an even sharper sense of humor. The shirt boldly declares, “Beaver Valley — there’s no place I’d rather come,” and it’s fully aware of the joke it’s making. It’s crude, cheeky, and immature in the best possible way—guaranteed to earn a few laughs and groans. Call it filthy wordplay if you want, but it’s really just a public service announcement that the wearer has a solid sense of humor and zero shame.

Best of all, it’s not some one-off gag—you can actually buy it all over the internet.

-keep