Cool Air Has Inspired and Enthralled

The taint is dry.  My brow is sweat-free.  I can actually walk around in something besides my Cousin Eddie outfits.

Happy to report:  The main AC unit has been officially repaired and installed in the wall.  Before that, the temperatures ran around 80 degrees F. in the apartment.  When the area around us wasn't getting pounded by thunderstorms and 40-60 mph wind gusts and hailstones, the temperatures rose to record numbers this time of year.  Not even summer yet and it easily would get up to 85 degrees outside.  Most of the time, I walked around in my underwear or boxers and a pair of sandals or black slippers.  Nothing else.  My wife warned me not to go outside, saying that I might get raped in my seductive get up.  Somehow, I didn't believe her.

Watch Cousin Eddie, in action, below, in National Lampoon's Vegas Vacation.  This is likely my least favorite "Vacation" movie of the series but it had it's moments. Methinks Cousin Eddie may suffer some anxiety disorder, at times.  I can't fault him for being a moron, though.  He's the entertaining kind of moron.  God puts 'em on Earth for our entertainment, I think.

Beats being around a boring moron- one like most of us encounter each day, on several occasions. This clip below is not the "shitter was full" scene of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation- but I like this scene.  Everyone and their butt mole has got that one memorized and it has been shown to death.  Hell, it's tradition for us to watch the Christmas one each year.  I still get a boner when the girl in the red bathing suit is on the diving board of the fantasy pool.  My wife ruins my mood by saying that when she flips her suit up in the air with her foot, she is cutting a pussy fart at the same time.

I also slap myself on my head to recall things.

Now I can come into this room, play games, make witty as heck comments on blogs and entertain myself by spouting off words of wisdom.  By the way, I saw the mentally challenged man again at the park.  He was still mumbling, frequently waving his arms up and down and made quacking noises.  He paced back and forth, every so often shouting, "Gimbiddy Goobey Blaaarghh!"

The mother or caretaker of this person was looking at the picnic table she was sitting at, perhaps thinking of a creamy fudge bar or slitting her own throat.  I know it's hard for people to take care of people when they're mentally challenged.  I feel for them as much or more than the mentally retarded folks they take care of- they're like the unspoken heroes and people don't say enough good about them.

At least, he, the dude I was just yakkin' about, wasn't like this other asshole in the park.  This old guy, The Curmudgeon, I call him. He was all stretched out underneath a shelter, sweating profusely, red in the face, swiggin' out of his bottle of whatever like he was thirsty or something.  :)  Anyway, he, of course, makes one of his negative remarks about how the weather is.  He doesn't miss a chance, whenever we pass each other in the park, while walking, to say how crappy the weather is or if it is a nice day, he'll say, for example "Gee, it almost feels decent today."

After he says something that I don't really feel like fully absorbing in my brain because I know how his mind works, partially, I ask him, nicely, if he is okay.  No sarcasm to my tone, whatsoever.  He breathes in, sort of okay, but his breathing is a bit ragged.  Based on this and his appearance, I had asked if he was okay.  If he needed any assistance.  Ever since I've had earlier dramatic incidents, this year, of people collapsing in front of me or onto me, in my arms, I'm a little anxious.  I'm ready to call 911 on his crazy, obnoxious, old ass.

But he says that he's okay and I walk on my usual path.  Apparently, he was "okay" because I saw him walking again.  I tried to say hello to him and get him to stop, briefly, to ask how he was but he ignored me and made sure I knew he was doing it on purpose.

I thought he was being silly, vain and stupid.  So I laughed each time as distance separated us when we walked in opposite directions.  The next day, he must have known he looked like an ass because of his attitude because he immediately engaged me in a conversation about trips he and his wife have taken to Hawaii and other locations.  At least, he isn't a total turd.

When people start conveying personal info, it's usually easier for me and quite a few people, I notice, to warm up to them.  They seem more human.  That's the lesson I take from it during my experiences of these kind.  People play odd games.  I like the straightforward, honest approach.  Why be something you're not?  Don't fear!  Show yourself-- flaws, talents, interests and all.

By the way, my neighbor, across the street, has a dozen flags in his yard.  Big flagpoles with American flags in his small yard. I don't know why he has them there.  Memorial Day is quite a long time from now.  I took a picture of his front yard-in case he kills me later on.  He reminds me of the Bruce Dern character of the movie "The Burbs."  The neighbor across the road from us is always sitting in his lawn chair in his open garage, watching the movements of all in the neighborhood.