PASTOR, Today was ok ish. My first attempt at writing a funny article for today turned into a total vent session I will post separately. Here's attempt number two. Today was uneventful, Mom went to Joe the Trader's, which is my favorite grocery store. They want me to work there when I get old enough, which might be now, come to think of it. I have a plethora of good relationships with the employees, one of which is worth outlining here. I won't print his name, but we'll call him Joe. Joe is a young guy, maybe in his 20s or 30s. One day in said store Mom wanted me to bring her some cheese. And not just any cheese, she needed Roquefort cheese. I have no clue as to the etymology, history, or pronunciation, let alone where to find it, so I went over to the cheese section and asked the nearest friendly face. I addressed Joe thus: "excuse me, do you know where the rock-furt cheese is?" He seemed puzzled. I used to mumble, and still do from time to time, so he must've misheard me. I repeated the question, which he burst into a fit of laughter after hearing. His ears had served him some unintelligible phrase with "rockin' Jesus" the only decipherable words. We were friends from then on. I love Joe the Trader's for many reasons, how awesome the employees are is one of them. And the coffee samples. That's a biggie. Usually I rarely get coffee, but Joe the Trader's samples is one of my main importers when I do. Or do you ever just fill a tiny sample cup with cream and sugar? I used to all the time. Anyway, the time has come for us to move on. After Mom got home from the store and dealt with an altercation which is outlined in great detail in another article, we had dinner. I also went for a quick bike ride, which was a highlight for two reasons. 1. Because it was a bike ride and 2. Because I stopped at my friend's house. On my ride I headed south and east. My first stop was some old friends from school's house. They have 3 children, all centered around my grade level. I called their house phone, and informed the oldest that I was near his house, as is customary. He came outside to chat. In shorts. I almost didn't make it home because of his immodesty, here's why. Now I love this Gentleman and his brother to death. Gentleman is of Scandinavian or German heritage, and was born in an igloo way up in the Arctic Circle where local legend says man was formed from the snow, not the dust, of the ground. He is usually a shade between "paper" and "eau de bleach" except during strenuous exercise he turns an iridescent "tomato." I love Gentleman, but we do often make fun of how ridiculously white he is. His shade is so unique that he rarely sunburns, though others around him find enhanced tans the shape of his reflection on their anatomies. If I look closely, I can see myself in him, true story! Now Doug, (inside joke) you're like an annoying older brother to me, and I miss hanging out. I promise I won't rate all the girls in school again in carpool like I did that one night when I was eaten (like drunk, but impaired by sheer quantity of food) but we gotta do something together as soon as the danger has passed.
Anyway
Him coming out in shorts immediately contracted my pupils so tight that I could stare directly at the sun with no issues (there's gotta be some commercial, medical, or astronomical application for that). The problem was, by the time I was done talking to him and riding on my way, my eyes didn't want to adjust back. I equate the experience to living in a welding helmet. I could only see the cars that had their headlights on, I almost died multiple times.
Moving on!
I continued on my merry way, down an asphalt hill and I checked out some very short mountain bike trails in a community greenspace. I stopped at a small skate park to hammer some features and rode on. I arrived at Viking's house shortly before dusk. He was another one of my old schoolmates who I'd attended with last year. I called him while pulling up, asked if he was busy, and he said no. I said "perfect", hung up, and rang his doorbell. We talked for a while, observing social distancing, then I headed home. The reason I chose the name "Viking" for Thundercalves (this guy's calves are unreally big, that's his nickname at school) is because of his innate ability to grow a big red beard at will and the sheer muscle power contained in his legs. A far cry from the other leg-related superpower we just addressed, but still very cool. Anyway, I biked home, worked on my blog with Josh, and went to bed. Josh is PASTOR's son, for reference. He is a grade below me and a popularity above me. Great guy, I chased him with a machete once. Come to think of it I've also pulled a knife on him. These are stories for different days, though.
The last account of the day relates to Sister and her nascent hatred of all things feline. I'm sure you're familiar with the app "Toming Talk" wherein you feed, clothe, play games with, etc. a virtual cat. I'm sure that you've also discovered that if you tap on him, he reels as if punched. I was sitting on the couch, Sister was across the room playing on her tablet. All of a sudden she starts to furiously tap the screen with her fingers as fast as she can. Mom asked what she was doing, She replied "I'm getting my revenge on cats!" Poor virtual Tom, who hadn't killed a Flappy Bird in his life, was taking the punishment for crimes he did not commit. I feel like there is some life lesson or great analogy to be had there...meh nothing comes to mind. PASTOR, maybe you have an idea?
Anyway,
I was going to take some time to address Neighbor Boy, but I'll save it for a day when I don't have as much material, akin to giving you a better introduction to Josh and my church life.
Well, PASTOR, I'm gonna sign off for now. Hopefully I can get this posted tomorrow morning.
I'm slowly going crazy, we all know it. I'm a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
But for now we is fly people!
That was my last attempt at being "cool."
Does the period in before or after the quotation mark? I think it depends on context. Someone comment about it.
Anyway
SAVE ME I'M LOSING IT,
You know the drill,
Trevor
P.S. I still don't have a punch line. Somebody message me if you do, please.
Comments