So, here's a sobering story if one is drunk at ten in the morning on a Monday - which I wasn't, so quit your stink-eyes, crook-eyes, and altogether, the whining (No! Really! I wasn't drunk!). I was on my way into work this morning, hum-dingerin' along, and I passed a wrecked car that was slammed against the curb and then a funeral. It must have been bad omen day, who knows - but they were just in the processional part where the priest/minister/whatever-he-is leads the usher/palm-bearers (is that even spelled right?)with the dead body to the hearse (I've never been to a funeral, I don't know what the hell is going on). I crossed to the other side of the street, and I felt real rude about that (not for long). Oh well. I didn't look back, though - I have a record to uphold, you see. I have never seen a dead body, nor do I intend to until my own. Which, hopefully, comes later, and not sooner. I have plans, and I still need the answers from Slipknot.
After the funeral and the crossing-of-the-street, I saw a little ziplock baggie with some stuff in it and a flier. Of course, I had to bend over to investigate, and DID YOU KNOW! DID YOU KNOW!?! that 4 out of 4 people prefer dental dams to herpes? WELL! We all know now. There was a rubber glove, a condom, and a hidden dental dam in the bag. Now, being a relatively obsessively clean person about germs and nastiness, I did not pick it up and put it in my personal stash in a shoebox underneath my Farrah poster. I do not own a Farrah poster. So... I left it where it lay - and I didn't touch it. Maybe some roustabout kiddies had done things with it, and left the bag... I don't know! The point is that I also prefer dental dams to herpes. And, before I forget, what the HELL is a rubber glove doing in there? I think there was just one & it was pool blue. I wonder if J. Crew would manufacture gloves and call this particular model "pool" and have other ones in the line such as "grass" and "wheat." Why just one glove? Why a glove at all?
Good day, Sunshine - "Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas." - Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel (don't worry, it's only on the first page of the book, I'm no boy-genius, no Stanley from Magnolia - horrible movie, by the way. I picked up Look Homeward, Angel to read it for the Library, and I thought that was a smashing! SMASHING! quote).
The Whatever Foursome that Joey Joe Junior Shabadoo likes to call us went to a party last night that could only be topped with gravy by the time we exited stage left. Talk about some... fun. I guess. Glad I brought Nerds, glad I was with people who wanted to go! go! GO! Hey! Who remembers Go Dog! Go!? Good times, good times. I think that was my favorite book. Up until last year. Ok, yesterday.
And, as you go gentle into this good day, remember this: Why just one glove? Why a glove at all? And in the words of Docta King - well, we all know that speech anyway. In the words of Guns n' Roses, however, take me to the paradise city - where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. Oh won't you please take me home!