I hate the goddamn weather around here. It's so schizophrenic.
Check it out. Seventy degrees Fahrenheit for almost 24 hours. Suddenly, within a few hours after this period, it drops to thirty degrees. Somewhere between these extremes, we get hit with freezing rain. The result of this produces a quarter inch glaze of ice on the interstate highways. Dozens of accidents and traffic jams all across the tri-state area pop up faster than you can say, "Oh my God, that crazy bastard in the vehicle up ahead of me is going the speed of light." Then, if you're an even bigger moron, you cry out loud, "Let's try to catch them!"
And then you do catch up to Idiot Number One. Instantly, you crash, joining him or her in a horrendously bloody seven car pile up. When metal meets flesh, it's always a grand time. Hooray. Hooray.... and then some.
But, not really.
People seem to be their dumbest when weather conditions are at their worst.
Let's see. What was the point I was making here? My train of thought has derailed. Oh, yeah.
Unfortunately, I had to get out in all this muck because the wife and I fell behind in the ol' Christmas Is Here, We Have To Prepare And Make like Rabid Pit Bulls Department.
While my wife was at work, I was in a hurry to get to the grocery store. I wanted to get there before the freezing rain came down that night. I had to get a bunch of stuff for the Christmas dinner party my wife and I were going to do for the family. I had my list. I had my coat on. I thought I was good to go.
I get to the new Kroger's Store. Get my grocery cart. Looking at my list in hand and running over the heels of customers in the store, I make my way through about six or seven aisles. Strangely enough, as I roll by some customers, I'm surprised to discover they are smiling at me. Showing teeth and everything. Being the paranoid bastard I so charmingly have become, I begin to wonder why. Usually, people scowl and sometimes, grimace toward me. I think they're just jealous of my good looks. I smile back at them.
Hahaha. And then some.
Eventually, I hear the clank-clank-clank of metal against metal. I look down. I can't believe my belt is completely unbuckled. I can't believe I couldn't hear my damned belt buckle hitting the back of my cart. Only the top button on my pants are fastened. The only force field keeping my junk from falling out are my tighty whiteys. Darn it. Forgot to wear the fuzzy thong. Wait a minute. That's my ass hair!
Anyway, that's why these freaks were gazing upon me and smiling like loons. They thought I was nuts. Or a molester or flasher or something. I wonder what they thought when they saw me smiling back at them.
Me-Me from The Screaming Me-Me twisted my arm and threatened to cut off my junk unless I put up this post. Gosh. How violent.
For more information on my ass hair, check out http://psychocarnival.blogspot.com/2008/12/nostril-hair-and-cock-eyed-folks.html
You will be richly rewarded.
Painting of the Month (59): Feb 2016, Michelangelo
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