Remember that song “I’m standing on the corner of Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see?” A few moments ago, I’m sitting in my Hoveround on the corner of Greenville, South Carolina. Amazing coincidence, huh? I was sitting there holding a “Will Work For Elmo” sign. I collected three buttons, twenty three sticky cents, a citation for loitering and some jackass tried to swipe my laptop. Clearly a life of panhandling is not in my future.
I have decided that when I do find Elmo–and I will–I am going to gouge his googly white eyeballs right out of his head. Then I’m going to kick him clean across the parking lot and into next Christmas where he’ll be just a horrible memory.
I’m at a restaurant having breakfast. I called the car dealership and naturally, the frigging parts haven’t arrived yet. Somebody explain this to me. If factories keep sending jobs overseas because the stuff is so much cheaper to manufacture over there, why does the muffler for my damn Korean car cost me more than $200 and yet a muffler for a Chevy Cavalier is only $62?! Grrrrrrr.
I just know South’s cat is history. There’s no way I’m going to make it down to Atlanta and back home in time for work on Monday. But I blame Mike. If he wasn’t such a damn pussy hound this never would have happened!! I’m disappointed though because I wanted the chance to get rid of that stupid answering machine message. I wanted to change it to “Hi, you’ve reached Mike South’s Whore Hotline. Press 1 if you’re already a whore, press 2 if you’d like me to make you a “star” (aka whore) and press 3 if you know where I can find a whore. All others, fuck off.”
There was a dude in the restaurant a few minutes ago talking to me about how much he loved to fish. What the hell is it with men and their obsession with fish these last couple days? This guy said he’d been fishing for 52 years and there was nothing he liked better than drifting on the lake for hours. He talked about how he enjoyed fishing with his wife. Then he said, “Do you know what the most common misconception men have about women?”
I said, “Yes, I do. That we don’t like sex and we don’t like to swallow. Well let me tell YOU something, Mr. Fisherman, I *love* sex and I *love* to swallow and I’m tired of hearing that bullshit. And I firmly believe that men use that excuse that their wives hate sex so they can fool around with a clear conscience! Oh and guess what, Jacques Cousteau? We like porn, too! What do you think about that?”
He said, “Huh. I was going to say the most common misconception is that women aren’t good at baiting their hooks.”
“Oh, yeah. There‘s that, too.”
Since I had so much downtime waiting for the damn Kia to be repaired, I spent some time searching police department websites for pics for my Hott Cops’ site. On one of the Maine PD sites, they have a section called “Rent A Cop.” Now I’m sure they want you to hire these guys to do security work or something similar, but wouldn’t it be cool to blow a paycheck on a hott cop and just have him come to your house so you could bask in his studly glow? When I become a super rich writer, I’m going to hire a couple cops to watch my trailer and pool, so no po’ people try to sneak in. I can’t wait to lord my wealth over the po’ people.
Now let us all have a moment of silent meditation for Mr. Snuggles.
