Playing hooky,
disgusting innuendo, and lawn coronas
--I just couldn’t do it yesterday.I took the younger Secret to school, returned home as normal,
and was ready to get down to bitness with TheWVSR.But almost as soon as I flopped down here, I realized there
wasn’t going to be a Wednesday update; my brain and central nervous
system were conspiring against me.
Experience has taught me not to fight such a feeling.It’s like when your body is craving fruits and vegetables –
there‘s a reason.So I turned
off my computer and walked away.
Occasionally I need a break from the internet, it’s as simple as
that.I don’t live my entire
life in front of a monitor, but sometimes it feels that way.Yesterday I was apparently at a point where it had become Too
Much, and I heeded the warning.
Needless to say, I went straight to Waffle House.There I purchased a USA Today from the machine outside, took a seat at the “low
bar,” and ordered breakfast.That
was, as usual, scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns with cheese,
toast, and sweet tea.I
lingered over my food while reading the paper, and could feel the big
clinched-fist of anxiety loosen with every passing moment.
I was, however, experiencing some low-grade guilt about wasting the day, and decided to go to the library and work on another
Special Report, with no deadline or pressure, and no internet.So that’s what I did, and it was good.I got more writing done yesterday than I have in a long, long
time.
But it all had to come crashing down eventually.And about two hours into it some asshole took a seat behind me, and
began watching videos on his laptop -- without headphones.Oh, he checked out the John Kerry taser
clip, the OJ Simpson
press conference, what sounded like a series of promotional spots for
high energy dance CDs, and a few other things.
Grrrr…
I couldn’t concentrate anymore, so I started breaking down camp.When I stood up I saw that the guy was approximately my age
(AKA old), apparently trying for some kind of Kurt Cobain look, but
getting closer to Kato Kaelin.He
gave me a little sup? lift
of the chin, and I half-heartedly supped him back.
By the time my computer shut down the dude was on his cell phone,
hollering to somebody about fabric softener.Yeah, he was a regular Kurt Cobain, alright…Wotta douche.
From the library I went to Circuit City.They have season 8 of Seinfeld
on sale for a really good price, and I’d been meaning to get over
there and buy a copy.But I
couldn’t find the damn thing.I
looked in the regular Seinfeld
section, but it looked like there’d been some kind of incident there
earlier in the day. All I could find were seasons 3 and 4, and what
appeared to be a big wad of bloody gauze.
They have a DVD sale bin in another section of the store, but it too
was sans season 8.I could feel my blood pressure ratcheting upwards.Man, I hate Circuit City... They constantly advertise an item at a really good sale price,
then don’t have said item when you arrive at the store.If you count on being disappointed by Circuit City, you won’t be disappointed.Or
something.
But being an old pro at these kinds of things, I tried one final
course of action before throwing in the towel.I walked through the main DVD section and checked behind
various unrelated box sets, and eventually hit the jackpot.Somebody had hidden a copy of Seinfeld season 8 amongst King of the Hill, and they’re probably standing in the store right
now with one litter-Indian tear streaming down their face.
I checked the time and realized I had almost 90 minutes before the
oldest Secret would get home from school, so I went across the street
to Panera Bread.I hadn’t
been in there for a while, and it was packed.I ordered a bowl of broccoli and cheddar soup, and started
working on the Special Report again.But
it was just too damn loud, and I didn’t get much accomplished.Other than the soup, of course, which kicked massive ass.
After dinner Toney and I went to the elementary school for
“curriculum night,” and to meet the younger Secret’s teacher.The place was crawling with hollering kids, gossiping moms, and
uncomfortable dads in golf apparel.It
was also sticky-hot inside that school.Man, I couldn’t wait for it to end.The teacher spoke to us for at least thirty minutes, and I
don’t think I heard a word she said.Just like old times…
Then it was two episodes of The
Fugitive, and four or five vessels of the golden elixir, and
you’re completely up-to-date on my Day of Hooky.
I’ll try not to let it happen too often.
--Speaking of dinner, we had
spaghetti last night, which means our dog Andy was prancing around the
house the whole time with a big smile on his snout.As is the custom, I set some aside for our pasta and meat
sauce-loving hound, and he went to town on it.
Then he had to shit, immediately.This
is what happens every time.He
eats spaghetti, and needs to go outside without delay.He ran upstairs and started turning circles by the front door, and I swung it
open for him.Then I watched as
he sprinted to the grass,
and instantly fired off something that looked like a Cuban cigar; a
corona, to be exact.
How is that possible?There’s
no way the spaghetti itself could be transformed into a yard cruller
in seconds-flat, so apparently it detonates one already in the
chamber?Is that the science
behind it?The whole thing’s
quite baffling.
--And since we’re on the
subject of dog shit… Remember our conversation, a while back, about
how there’s no white dog
crap anymore?When I was a kid
I saw turds o’ white all the time, but they seem to have disappeared
over the years.Why?!It’s still a valid question in my mind.
Anyway, Surf Reporter Susan sends along photo evidence proving the
phenomenon isn’t completely
extinct.Check it
out.Thanks Susan!That’s
some fine news reporting right there… Outing the culprit goes above
and beyond.
--Here’s a fresh Smoking
Fish sighting, in a town supposedly made up of nothing but bars,
breweries, and wine shops.Sounds
like a perfect place for a family vacation!
--Before I call it a day here,
I’d like to invite you to find all the filthy innuendos in this
picture.I don’t have an
exact number, but there are reportedly lots
of ‘em.So let’s get to
work, folks.
And I’ll see you tomorrow.
Imagining others suffering
catastrophic misfortune helps me get through the day
--