I always begin my day with a morning meditation. In nature, if possible. So today I sat out on South’s front porch
enjoyin’ the view from his precious Lazyboy recliner. (Notice how I hauled a new fridge onto the porch? Convenient yet tasteful.) I like to call this “The Trailer that Porn Built.” I spent an hour out here meditating to the bird’s serenades, softly rustling leaves and the neighbor hocking chewing tabaccky off the front stoop. It was truly a religious experience.
Most of my meditating ended up being about South. Thoughts of him have a tendency to intrude at the worst times. I kept thinking about a conversation we had earlier. When I told South on Wednesday that Thursday was my birthday, he said, “Is it really?” And I said yes. Then he said asked me how old I was. Good grief, could I have picked a lazier, less attentive guy to stalk? My only excuse is that I was young and stupid at the time. The General said, “Ok remind me and I’ll mention it on my site.” **rolls eyes** Hard to believe some chick hasn’t snatched Mr. Sensitivity right up, huh? Well, no hard feelings, I left you a nice, big piece of birthday cake, Mike.
Ya know what really yanks my chain? Besides that obnoxious Bob dude in the Enzyte commercials. When I’m IM’ing with South, he’s always bragging about what great neighbors he has. He told me one was a Playgirl centerfold. Then I get down here and find out it’s some guy in a leisure suit, who has a home based pharmaceutical business, and who has been featured on COPS several times. And not as a cop either. Now I don’t feel the least bit guilty about accepting this writing gig just so I could garner more search engine hits than that chick at Digital Playground whose name I won’t mention so she doesn’t get yet another hit.
I did enjoy a few moments of quiet to read the paper while South’s neighbor was shining up his El Dorado. I read that the shower scene from Psycho was voted as the best movie death of all time. Odd. I thought Ben Affleck’s appearance in Gigli was the best movie death. Oh, wait, that was best death of a movie career.
Britain is so obsessed with text messaging and emailing that psychologists are concerned that all this techno talk will make people “uncomfortable with more intimate face-to-face conversations” and baaaad communicators. Yes, but it greatly strengthens our lying skills and our ability to exaggerate. Ooops. Their lying skills.
A poll was taken as to what Germans think about while waiting in traffic. [Hey, if South can talk about orgasmic candy bars, I can talk about the Germans and their inane thoughts!] Thirty three percent think about sex, eight percent think about how much gas they have {deep, huh?}, seven percent think about going to a toilet. Six percent think about their careers. And twenty percent think about having sex while their career goes down the toilet. I can’t believe nobody thinks about the obvious: obnoxious Bob from the Enzyte commercials. I think about how much I hate being stuck in traffic. And my estrogen levels, of course. I think about sex IF there’s a guy close by on a motorcycle. For some reason, when I see a motorcycle, I think SEX.
Speaking of Germans, those militant German chicks are so pissed (pardon the pun) that their guys have bad aim when peeing, that they’re buying a device that verbally ridicules the guy for standing up while urinating. Damn. They’re militant AND too lazy to do their own nagging. But geez now you guys can’t even pee without hearing about it. I wish I could get one of those devices for my dog, though. She seems incapable of taking more than two steps off the front porch before she does her duty. Hell, she could at least have the decency to pee in the neighbor’s yard like the rest of us.
In Italy (doesn’t America ever make the news in Georgia?) some couples are now saying “I receive you,” instead of “I take you” in their wedding vows. If you remember, “I take you” replaced the less popular vow, “I’ll use you for sex then dump your sorry ass later.”
Damn. South emailed me and told me to talk about “current events.” Well, currently his neighbor is enjoying another stint on COPS. In my neighborhood, the most oft repeated phrase is “Have a nice day!” In South’s hood it’s “you can’t arrest me, you mother fuckers!!” All this screaming about police brutality and baton swinging is harshing my mellow. I’m gonna go inside and chill by watching a copy of Southern Magnolias that I found, so I can make fun of it in an upcoming post. I’m sorry…did I say “make fun of” because I meant “review.” How’s that for “current events,” baby?
