Smoked Egg

Hola Amigos, the next few weeks find my lovely family and me participating in our annual Screw-Up-Our-Kids'-Sleep-Schedules tour of the East Coast. Overall, things aren't much different over here. They have things called 'bagels,' that are really good. They also have something called 'humidity,' which is really bad. It is indeed a land of balance.
The greatest thing the EC is offering me right now is an air-conditioned room with 42" flatscreen upon which to watch World Cup soccer. Does it get any better? No need to respond.
What it doesn't have is my computer, with its HeadHighGlassy-ready gigabytes of fresh board porn. However, BrotherFromAnothaMutha Fred fired off these snaps of his new 7' something egg, which I pass on to you. Fressshhh!
Fatty always groans when she sees 'smoke tint' on an order card. 'Blah,' she says. 'Boring. Talk them into red.'

She always smiles when I pick them up, though.
When pressed, she can be made to admit that smoke tints are pretty bitchin'. This is all part of our process.

Check out those laps!