Lord...

There was a lot of shit up there.
Now, it's all in the hallway outside the bathroom.
Nownow, all I hafta do is drag it all down here and sort through it.

And, as I was wandering around the kitchen, waiting for my cuppa coffee to finish nukin', I happened to spy my radio and turned it on.

As I was walking back into the living room with said cuppa, Sr. beeps me and tells me that Jr. is staying at his buddy Roger's-down-the-road tonight.

Well, okay then.
Then, he suggested something which I'd already done, days ago.
So...
*grin*

Okay.
Back to the seven hundred, ninty-two trips up and down the stairs...
that I don't feel like makin'.
Guess I oughta get back to that.
Guess I also oughta take off my boots now.
It's such a sexy look, this.
My flannel jammies and my Bender (John Bender, Breakfast Club, don't make me post a picture of Judd Nelson, 'cause I won't be able to stop with just one) boots...

The only way this could be worse is if I were wearing shorts, which does NOT happen, not even in the summer.
Jeans (or sweats) and boots (or slip on shoes).
If I can't ride in it, I don't wear it unless I'm forced to.
And then, I ain't happy.

Anyway, in this ensemble, I remind me of Dad.
Him, running all the way out to the mailbox at the house in Mannington in tighty-whities and lower-shin-high boots.
Or, worse, those zip-up-the-side, short, Beatle boots.
And, him with his long hair and beard and moustach.
He looked like a deranged Santa Claus on vacation or something.

Then, there was the whole "running into town in cut off DuPont pants, boots, with the added attraction of dirt on kneecaps from having been working in garden" look, which I have yet to adopt, thank Gawd.

I just go everywhere covered in cat hair.

Okay, so how did I get from Christmas decorations to my Dad in his shorts/boots combo?
Jeezus...

(smoke s'more.)
(i intend to, thanks.)

Any-fuckin'-way...
Did I have a point this time?
'Cause, if I did, I can't remember it.

I got the shit outta the attic, I still hafta hoof it all down here and mere minutes after I turned on my radio, I find out Jr. won't be here tonight, whoo-ho.

I think that's it.

Except, I'm dressed weird.
Which I attribute to being related to my Dad.
Which is where I got so off track the first time, so THIS time, I'mina go before I confuse myself again.

*coupla minutes later*
Oh, wow.
It's Friday.
I thought, for some reason, that it was Thursday.

Well, now it makes sense that George left.
It wasn't early.
I was late.
Gotcha.

And now, I really hafta go and get Moesha the fuck off my TV.

*full body shudder*

Posted by: Stevie at 04:10 PM

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