Where are all the good times?
Who's gonna show this stranger around?
The theme of this post was stolen from a real writer, Veronica. Thank you, Veronica.
3 Things That Have Nothing To Do With Each Other.
1. Will, the dude who took me salmon fishing in the Gig, has his 20th class reunion coming up. (Mine is next weekend. Yup. The Dam. And I will see some of you there.)
Will still has his car from high school, an early 80's Trans Am. Gold. I dubbed it The Gold Dragon. (Ain't exactly street legal, so let's keep it on the down-low.) It is in his garage, where it has resided, lo these many years.
Except the Dragon is roaring once again, after a long slumber.
He is getting the car running again, and he is going to drive it down to California for his reunion.
That is ten kinds of awesome in and of itself, but there is a kicker.
We talked about having me go with him to his reunion as his +1.
You know, riding shotgun in the Gold Dragon.
We were pissing our pants. We were gonna downplay it. No explanation other than, "This is my friend, Joe."
No lisps, no really tight shirts. Although, admittedly, that would also be awesome. Not as awesome as the Gold Dragon breathing fire once again, but awesome, nonetheless.
I'd just hang out, being me. (Hey, pimpin' ain't easy.) Will would be totally normal. He'd talk about his kids. I'd tell my story. We'd play it completely straight, then towards the end of the night, when the DJ put on Journey or Boston, we'd take the floor and dance a stately waltz.
The key will be not laughing our asses off.
You should know that this is serious. I told him that if he got the Gold Dragon running, I would get on a plane. He called today and said that he cleaned the garage, took off the cover, got under the car, drained the oil, bled the gas line and made arrangements to have a proffesional take it over the hump.
Looks like I may have a reunion to attend.
2. I have been reading some seriously weird science fiction lately (an anthology), and some really disturbing, graphic horror (Bentley Little).
The Anthology is a bunch of short stories. On our way back from the Gig (Harbor), Stanette was driving and I started reading one of the stories out loud. She asked me to stop because of the subject matter.
I finished the story in silence.
A day later, she asked what the horror novel was about.
I had to shake my head and say, "You don't want to know."
3. In case you were operating under a misconception, I have a job. I just don't write about it here.
I am a coal miner.
No, just kidding. I work with retards.
I love the goofy bastards.
4. In other news, I had a homemade meatball panini today. It brought me to my knees.
5. I also saw a huge red-tailed hawk on my run. I surprised it while it was eating. It took off out of a hay field from about 20 feet away. Impressive.
--
==
--
:^&
There, you got 5 Things Unrelated To Each Other For The Price Of 3, Which Was Completely Free You Cheap Bastards.
Now go back to work.
P.S. You want a toe? I can get you a toe. With polish. There are ways, Dude. You don't wanna know.
3 Things That Have Nothing To Do With Each Other.
1. Will, the dude who took me salmon fishing in the Gig, has his 20th class reunion coming up. (Mine is next weekend. Yup. The Dam. And I will see some of you there.)
Will still has his car from high school, an early 80's Trans Am. Gold. I dubbed it The Gold Dragon. (Ain't exactly street legal, so let's keep it on the down-low.) It is in his garage, where it has resided, lo these many years.
Except the Dragon is roaring once again, after a long slumber.
He is getting the car running again, and he is going to drive it down to California for his reunion.
That is ten kinds of awesome in and of itself, but there is a kicker.
We talked about having me go with him to his reunion as his +1.
You know, riding shotgun in the Gold Dragon.
We were pissing our pants. We were gonna downplay it. No explanation other than, "This is my friend, Joe."
No lisps, no really tight shirts. Although, admittedly, that would also be awesome. Not as awesome as the Gold Dragon breathing fire once again, but awesome, nonetheless.
I'd just hang out, being me. (Hey, pimpin' ain't easy.) Will would be totally normal. He'd talk about his kids. I'd tell my story. We'd play it completely straight, then towards the end of the night, when the DJ put on Journey or Boston, we'd take the floor and dance a stately waltz.
The key will be not laughing our asses off.
You should know that this is serious. I told him that if he got the Gold Dragon running, I would get on a plane. He called today and said that he cleaned the garage, took off the cover, got under the car, drained the oil, bled the gas line and made arrangements to have a proffesional take it over the hump.
Looks like I may have a reunion to attend.
2. I have been reading some seriously weird science fiction lately (an anthology), and some really disturbing, graphic horror (Bentley Little).
The Anthology is a bunch of short stories. On our way back from the Gig (Harbor), Stanette was driving and I started reading one of the stories out loud. She asked me to stop because of the subject matter.
I finished the story in silence.
A day later, she asked what the horror novel was about.
I had to shake my head and say, "You don't want to know."
3. In case you were operating under a misconception, I have a job. I just don't write about it here.
I am a coal miner.
No, just kidding. I work with retards.
I love the goofy bastards.
4. In other news, I had a homemade meatball panini today. It brought me to my knees.
5. I also saw a huge red-tailed hawk on my run. I surprised it while it was eating. It took off out of a hay field from about 20 feet away. Impressive.
--
==
--
:^&
There, you got 5 Things Unrelated To Each Other For The Price Of 3, Which Was Completely Free You Cheap Bastards.
Now go back to work.
P.S. You want a toe? I can get you a toe. With polish. There are ways, Dude. You don't wanna know.
posted by Joe at
9:30 PM
8 Comments:
Yes, Journey's Open Arms (or "Broken Arms" as N-man sings it) would be perfect for a stately waltz. I think you should request it.
I seem to remember a Palhanuik story with the line about the toe with polish it somehwere...you been reading ol' Chucky baby again?
If you are and havn't read "Choke"
or "Survivor" I would reccomend both. Only if your work with retards isn't taking up too much of your time though.(Bless thier hearts)
Hoping to see you in the Dam but not at the reunion--have a wedding to crash...uh go to---was invited to perform at...um....ok ok my secret is out...: I now do interpretive dance for pagan wedding ceremonies that often involves shearing and drinking the blood of "special" sheep.
At least that's how it reads in the contract. Maybe I'll bring some leftovers to the cook out on Sunday....mmmmmmmmm---anemic mutton
YUMMMMY!
K-top- the quote is from the Big Lebowski. Walter says it to the Dude in the coffee shop after they received a toe (with polish) purporting to belong to Bunny Lebowski.
Hope to see you Sunday. My cell comes in crappy at my parents' house, so feel free to call the house.
Honestly, I really don't remember hiking with you!
#'s 1 & 3 made me giggle.
That's all i have to say about that.
Retarded goofy bastards is funnt.
That's amazing the dude saved his classic Trans Am.
When I was 16 my dad got me a white '76 Trans Am with a "400 engine". I never knew much about cars but
since I was driving this sweet looking car I picked up on some of the lingo, ya know. That car could burn some rubber. Too bad it was always breaking down. I probably needed to change the oil once in a while but back then they didn't have all these quick lube joints.
Who knew?
Once read an artice whereby the car enthusiast referred to the logo atop the hood of the Trans-Am a "screaming chicken".
Maybe he was partial to the "Blue Oval" team.
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