« D’oh. | Home | Local Man’s Ass Kicked By Week »
Swing on this, pal
By briantologist | March 24, 2004
Man, I feel weird. The weather here is just kinda fucked up right now. It’s constantly overcast, it’s kind of chilly and breezy, but it’s humid as hell, which means that after a half-hour’s walk to work, I stumbled in this morning sweating and kind of cold. Also the pit of my elbow was sweaty. I have no clear explanation for this.
In other news, after a bout of cheap wine-induced brilliance last night, several of us decided it’d be best to liberate the porch furniture of Dr. Flash, who’s out of town for a few days shooting the OSU game. This had several benefits: For one, it was funny, since we removed every single thing from his porch that wasn’t his mailbox, including the porch swing, the KU flag, the doormat, and the pointless little table with the bucket of pinecones on it, and reinstalled it on our porch, making a near-exact replica of his porch, only on ours … see, it’s funny ’cause it’s his stuff, but it’s on our porch … look, we were pretty drunk.
But we do have some porch furniture until he gets home, and I love it even more than I thought I would. I’m having a really hard time not rushing out and going further into debt on some chairs and a table; I think some kind of cheap plastic post-payday compromise will have to do for the time being. Porches are a really excellent invention, up there with Penicillin and the iPod on the list of humanity’s fine achievements.
Still, though, this weather is fucking with me. I’m kind of filled with hopelessness for no good reason, to the point where I had to leave work early. I’m chalking it up to the clouds and my hangover, but if I’m still feeling like this tomorrow, I may have to take drastic measures. Like taking Trucky to work with me or something.
Topics: Misc. | 12 Comments »
March 24th, 2004 at 7:32 pm
Kittens (and SB) are a wonderful cure for hopelessness.
March 24th, 2004 at 7:38 pm
ok, is sarah trucky or is the cat? regardless, i want a cool nickname like that.
March 24th, 2004 at 7:53 pm
But tomorrow is Take Your Kitten to the Library Day.
March 24th, 2004 at 11:33 pm
What I wouldn’t do to be sitting on your porch with Trucky and Pingry’s confiscated furniture. I miss my homies something fierce.
March 25th, 2004 at 9:12 am
We miss you too, Sarahbrown. I’m looking into tickets for September, though. It’s gonna be hotttt. I meant that to have three t’s, but it ended up having four, and I don’t really have a problem with that.
March 25th, 2004 at 9:28 am
I really love and appreciate the furniture we have on our back porch . . . each and every time we use it (which is, like, three times a year).
March 25th, 2004 at 9:37 am
I’m thinking we should convince Pingry that it was out furniture all along. He does drink a lot, so he might not remember giving it to us.
March 25th, 2004 at 11:38 am
That’s a good point. I wonder if he’d do that with his car? I could probably sell that sucker for 10 grand easy. It’d put a swell dent in our credit card debt. Hmmm.
March 25th, 2004 at 12:14 pm
One November 1st a few years back I woke up at 10am to get to work by 9am and unfortunately couldn’t find any of my dishes. The previous night we had a Halloween party and and lots of dishe’s glasses etc… got messed. Afterwards I decided that the best way to get everything clean was to bring it all outside and hose it down but seeing as how I had been drinking since the previous morning I got sidetracked and simply left them outside on the front lawn and sidewalk. Most of them were still there when I finally thought to look outside.
March 25th, 2004 at 2:49 pm
That’s awesome. I love drunk problem-solving. It all makes so much sense when you think it up.
March 26th, 2004 at 7:34 pm
I think porches were literally what made this country’s small communities great. People used to walk down the street and say hello at each house, to the people sitting there on their porches, taking in the breeze.
Then the Eisenhower era came, and the privacy of the backyard with its barbeque pit and swimming pool became the standard. Things have slowly slid off to shit in small-town America ever since then (of course, Sam Walton helped, too).
March 26th, 2004 at 9:56 pm
I heartily agree. Kids stopped playing outside, we stopped talking to our neighbors, and now we’re all fat and depressed and isolated. Progress as promised!