Geez...
I had fun in spite of myself.
It was a pretty cool group, headed by an even cooler woman. (Believe it or not.)This probably isn't news to anybody but me but...I think Halloween is different if you're Jewish. I think....
One of the kids asked if it was going to be one of the haunted hayrides and the cool Head Lady What Be In Charge answered him thusly: "Nooo. As cool as spooky things are, it's not Jewish." Wow. I had no idea.
She was cool as hell, though. She kept apologizing for being 'disorganized'...I just laughed and told her to relax and breathe and be as disorganized as she needed to be. I was fine with it. (After my morning...she'd a had to have done something completely stupid to piss me off and she was far from stupid...Thank You, Lord.) I was having a great time, sitting on the fender of my Oliver (not the one I needed to be shown how to shift-so I at least had a tractor I was familiar with-*Yay!), singing with Larry Gatlin, waitin' for 'em to get ready. It's really nice out today.
(*Everytime I use that 'Yay!', I picture that 'special' puppet on Crank Yankers. The one who yells 'Yay!' every other word...)
The ride went smoothly...I picked the right pumpkin field and I didn't get stuck once. Did run over maybe one row of corn, though...had to make a rather sharp turn. With two wagons. Around a corner, down a hill and across a stream. All at once, so I went wide. I didn't run thru it too bad...only had one leaf stuck on the side when I got back. I didn't screw up on the corner/hill/stream combo. That was the important part.
I did see one kid do something really weird, however. This one little guy picked up a buncha pieces of a squashed pumpkin and put them in his pants pocket. I'm just lookin' at him thinking "Ookaaayy." If he was my kid and I put my hand in that pocket to check it before washing those pants and felt that ooky shit...man. Oh, and there was this one other littler kid I saw before we went out...He had wandered away from his Mom and when she caught up with him, she picked him up and scolded him, shaking her finger. He started slapping at her hand! Him, I'da killed. I thought to myself "Son, the day you slap me is the day you die, so choose it wisely." Which made me laugh. Dumb lil shit. Honestly...if I had a kid and that kid tried hittin' me...we'd at the very least have a severe 'talk'. There would not be a second time. Or there wouldn't 'be' a kid. I'll put up with a lot of some kindsa shit. But, that ain't any of it. Especially not from some kid. Any kid. Ever. I don't do it and I feel no need to tolerate it. At all. So there..PPTTTFFFTTTHHH. (Or however da hell ya spell the patented Archie Bunker answer to everything...put your tongue between your pursed lips and blow.) (Great. Now I sound like Dudley Moore in the ORIGINAL movie 'Bedazzled'- which I highly reccomend over that Elizabeth Hurley shit redition of the same- as I sit here following my own directions.) I is fucked UP. Anyhoo(ROD!-Ya know, Rod, you CAN call anytime ya want...) I'm gonna go start dinner. (I am in a MUCH better mood now. Even the dogs are out from hiding and I got the leash off Miss Runaway aka Jessie the Snot.) This evenings menu includes chicken legs with my secret recipe (which is just PORK Shake-n-Bake...try it. It's damn good.), chicken gizzards made the same way, Ceddar and Bacon dog-rotten (as we call au gratin) potatoes and cut green beans. Maybe I'll get adventurous and shred up some lettuce and shit for salad. (Sounds goood put like that, don't it?) Is it really PMS time? Anybody (besides poor Eric) have any idea? Even though I'm being silly, there still seems to be this slightly violent undercurrent...
You'd think I'd know when it's time, right? Wrong. I hate the whole process and immediately put it out of my mind the instant it's over. I can't even ever remember when the last one was for the doctors office, if I have to go and they need to know. It's regular and short lived, so I just ignore the whole thing as best I can. Which works great...until I start wantin' to throw shit. Then, I can't tell if it's a bad day or the onslaught of PMS. I always have to wait and see it if lasts more than one day. Or ask Eric. He knows. Boy, does he know. I ever get a gyno, he/she better ask Eric about this shit. Or, one a you guys, if anybody else pays attention to this sorta shit. I sure as hell don't. Alright. I've gone from the hayride, to kids, to dinner, to PMS. I think it's time to go now. I see the men in the white jackets out in the yard..."There coming to take me away, hoho ,hehe, haha..." Hey...whatchoo doin' with that NET? PUT ME DOWN!!! I'll behave. I'll be cool...Hey!
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