Way Out In Left

Beliefs, Controls, and the Occasional Bologna Sandwich

 
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Friday May 14 2004. GRASS.
  Now why would anyone want to cut their grass at quarter to seven in the morning? The guy on the corner of my street did. I wonder if his name is Bob too?
INVASION. BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

  Cicadas On The Back Deck Watch:

Monday 1
Tuesday 5
Wednesday 8
Thursday 29
*Friday Holy Shit!

  * I made an attempt to count them, but there were so many of them flying onto and off of the deck that I gave up. Plus, they kept flying blindly into my head. Little creeps!

BUGGY BASTARDS.

  For those of you who aren't blessed with living in the eastern part of the U.S., you're missing out on the Great Cicada Plague of 2004. These inch-long critters come out of the ground once every 17 years (which begs the question: what do they do in the ground for that long?) and pretty much overrun any wooded areas. Millions of 'em! Fortunately, these red-eyed uglies will be around only for a month or two. But until they're gone, this biblical plague of poor-flying bastards is creating havoc. I can't go out on the back deck without being bombarded by one every 30 seconds. And the mating noises they make are beyond annoying. With hundreds of thousands of them humming and buzzing at once, it sounds like the phasers on the original Star Trek. It can be quite deafening. Of course, Luke is loving life. He keeps whining at the back door to go out and have a few cicada snacks. He's eating them like they're frickin' potato chips.

SLEEP-MOLT-FLY-SEX-DIE. Grass, Invasion, Mullets, Buggy Bastards, Sleep-Molt-Fly-Sex-Die, Best Birthday Present, and Stinky Delivery.

MULLETS. STINKY DELIVERY.
  I had a dream last night I had hair. It was all out of control and it was pissing me off. Those kind of dreams are bad for business for a balding fellow like me.   I was reminded of a good Barney Story last night: One unassuming day at work, Barney found that his big toe had popped out through a hole in his sock. Not wanting to go the whole day with his toe sticking out, Barney simply took off his sock. But what to do with it? Trash it? Put it in a desk drawer to take home later? Nope. Not the Barney. He popped in an envelope, sealed it up, addressed it to our friend Darrell, and off in the mail it went.
  Darrell later said that he was stunned to get a ratty old sock in the mail. Yeah, no kidding.
     

  2000-2004 by gja.