But I can’t count that high. Tonite, Lyle, I ran a few extension cords out the garage and across the street. I set this overhead projector up a little left of the middle of the street and traced out the face of the woman I’ll be painting on the truck.
I’m not the only one acting crazy on the street. This woman had her head phones on and aluminum cans spread across the sidewalk. She had a dance going like she was crushin grapes, flattening ‘em for recycling.
We had a nice time burning trees at the beach tonite. These hot dogs were way better than the horse track weiners. Perhaps because they came out of the fire burnt black to mid shaft.
He was tooting out “Celebration” before the race as the horses walked to the gate and the John Deere 7820 backed off the track, a few men with rakes smoothing over the treads. That crew wore what looked like flak jackets, probably insurance against kicks and the odd trampling
Dollar hot dogs probably aren’t worth the price but most of us ate three before we realized. A horse track is akin to a county fair for sheer swath of the cross section it draws. While you and your pal point and laugh at someone someone else is pointing and laughing at you. The jacuzzi water they serve as beer keeps the confrontations to a minimum.
People are mad at themselves for taking that old wives tale about betting on the horse with the most recent bowel movement to heart. Doug says it started from gossip that the trainer gives a palm full of coke to the horse before a race. C’mon Doug. Have you seen a horse’s nostril? Where does one find a straw that big?
You probably don’t see them because they make their nests on rooftops.
Super tasty garage clean out with ancient wiring and cobwebs thick enough to pass as ropes.
Each man has his own concept of manhood. A unique set of criteria that must be met before levelling up. Two days ago I brought home a fancy pump action soap dispenser and squeezed detergent from the unsightly plastic bottle into the new glass and chrome apparatus. That to some may be a blow to manhood. Not with this guy. Especially when coupled with recent events elsewhere in the house. I’m not talking about the memory foam pillow purchase last week. This ascension into the upper eschelon of men derives from a paint job.
The truck you see, the 1998 Chevy Cheyenne, is getting prepped for a milestone in my life. What could that be, you ask? Putting my name on my truck. Some people dream of their name in lights, or on a best seller list. I’d like to see it across the parking lot at home depot on my truck.
“Why do people watch these awards shows? Everyone looks the same in their black tuxes and the women in white dresses and diamonds. They thank their lawyers and agents, you don’t learn anything about them as people, I don’t get it,” I said.
“I watch this to make sure the people I hate didn’t win anything,” Jeff said.
It made sense finally.
Rus made it back from Florida with only one extra tractor. A low profile John Deere.
Anyone watch Alice in Wonderland in 3D after eating pot cookies Saturday night? Then not want to talk to anyone the next day because your body felt weird? And you drank 4 cups of coffee and didn’t feel like you’d ever really wake up? Are you the one that was overwhelmed with confusion and violent thoughts when the guy at the flea market told you not to bring your coffee inside? No coffee at a flea market? Yeah, that was you. Cantankerous old fool.
Doug was working in the city, next to Washington Park. He had a large block of ice and wanted to slide down the hill while sitting on it. While the rest of the crew sat on the steps eating lunch we took turns pretending it was 1800.
Ask a white guy. He’ll tell you, “The sandwich is king.” But my lady, she isn’t white. She don’t like a sandwich as much as she likes noodles and rice. We go out to eat all the time, and I keep hoping she’ll decide sandwich is king and we can go eat meatball subs. She is hoping it won’t be long I’ll start craving a bowl of noodles in broth.
Who would have guessed the sandwich wasn’t king around the world?
Stopped for lunch at Wolfes diner on 16th. Mustard and ketchup, good old American flavorings, Mexican hot sauce, Vietnamese hot sauce, and Chinese/Japanese soy sauce. Must be a melting pot.
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