I was planning on updating every day until South mentioned that I was “prolific.” Prolific is one of those artsy fartsy words that sounds all literary like until you find out it just means you talk too much. So I’m not going to update every day. I’m going to lay around Casa de South, drinking, scratching my cooch and ripping into Snicker bars with all the enthusiasm of Wilfred Brimley opening a box of his diabetes testing supplies. (I don’t care what anybody says, Wilfred makes ya wish ya had diabetes just so you could get one of those boxes of testing supplies every month or so.)
If you’ve read my posts before, you know one of the things I dread when filling in for South is “The Lecture.” I get it every time I take care of his site, and I got it again last night. He talks about how it’s an “awesome responsibility” to take care of his site–and yet, it feels like work. Then he sermonized about how I need to be trust worthy because this is his entire life’s work. (Sad, isn’t it? This is all he has to show for 52 years on the planet Earth.) Then he started blabbering about something else, but I didn’t hear a word of it. I was too busy emailing the password to his site to all my guy friends at that point.
I was on the phone with my sweetie to let him know I’d arrived safely, and he told me about yet another robbery in my hometown involving a safe. This time it was pulled off in broad daylight.
I said, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that we don’t have a safe.“
He said, “Honey, if we had a safe, the most valuable thing in this trailer would *be* the safe.”
Damn. You know you’re po’ when you can’t even afford the safe.
I told South that I was looking forward to coming down to his place because I was hungering for the taste of a good old Southern barbeque. I knew South had a grill cuz I dried my tennis shoes on it last time I was here. Hey, I got caught in the rain, what was I gonna do? I didn’t want my Nikes to stink like grandma’s closet.
I found some fresh road kill in Virginia and I took it out into the backyard where South said his “new” grill would be last night, hoping to BBQ up some ground hog. Mmmm, them’s good eatin’.
Check out said “new grill.” Look! It doubles as a toaster, kids! Ugh.
Even though the grill might prove me wrong, I do feel South has class. Take his new doorbell for instance. Not too many people could pull this look off. (Not too many would want to.) That just REEKS of (cl)ASS, doesn’t it?
I ‘m feeling lazy today so don‘t expect much out of me. The trip down here really drained me, especially after I got stopped by the COPS. Hey, he said I could mention it if I got arrested, and getting stopped counts. I was nabbed for going 32 in a 25 mph zone. I felt I had to try and talk my way out of the ticket. I said, “Officer, let me explain. We all know that there are two things in this world that Koreans don’t value: American lives and a good set of brakes on cars they’re shipping to America. If I don’t go AT LEAST five miles over the speed limit when I’m driving at low speeds, I’m liable to coast backwards into oncoming traffic. So I see going over the speed limit as a sort of life saving measure I take.”
He said, “I see it as breaking the law.”
Hot damn it. It’s hard to argue with logic. But he let me go because he said it was “the dumbest damn excuse” he’d heard all night. It really pays to be stupid.
While I’m on the subject of the drive to Georgia, I’d like to commend Carlos Santana and Michelle Branch on their new song, “I’m Feeling You.” Of course, I liked it much better the first time it was released as “The Game of Love.” Yeah, same damn guitar riffs and everything. Lazy ass musicians.
If that burning smell is anything to go by, my toast is finished grilling. Later!
As always my email is: [email protected]
