It was a big super-sized weekend for your corpulent correspondent, and it was a good time. Reasonably good, anyway. How’d it go for you guys?
The weather here was perfect until Monday, when it turned hot and sticky, and remains so today. Man, I hate this kind of weather. Right now I’m sitting in the bunker, listening to an obscure band called We Were Promised Jetpacks, covered in a thin layer of oil and sweat. NOT a fan. I’m shinier than James Brown.
But I did do one thing right… I mowed on Saturday, before it turned into the devil’s ass crack out there. I don’t know why I didn’t put it off, it’s what I usually do, but this time I chose the exact right time to tend to my yardly duties. It wasn’t fun, but it could’ve been much, much worse.
After I finished, I was convinced I had ticks on me. In my hair, or maybe on the underside of my scrotum. I’ve heard from half a dozen people that there are an inordinate number of ticks this year. People apparently love nothing more than to pass along tick news. Right? I’m hearing it, everywhere I go.
I joke, but I know someone who had a tick on his sac. He said he grabbed the parasite with a pair of tweezers, tried to pull it out, and was shocked at the hyper-elasticity of the host. He told me his arm was almost fully outstretched before the thing finally popped loose. Heh.
Anyway, I think I’m good. I found nothing that wasn’t supposed to be there.
However… the gnats are out. I don’t know where they go (underground?), but they’ve made their return. And fuck those things. Why are they here? On Earth, I mean? What is their purpose?? They get in my eyes, and buzz my ears like a Blue Angel flyover. And don’t even get me started on the silent G! Gnats are the worst. In fact, summer is kinda bullshit, generally. Who’s with me?!
Once again, the Jeff Kay Ranking o’ the Seasons, from best to worst: Fall, Spring, Winter, Summer.
We did a lot of walking over the weekend. There are some great, new trails in this area, and Toney and I took advantage of some of them. I like walking, until the gnats and humidity kick in. So, I guess that’s over. We had a good three-week run with it. Maybe I’ll go back in October, and hopefully those great, new trails won’t be covered in Mickey’s Big Mouth bottles, and spent condoms. Good times.
Speaking of condoms, are you ready for a laugh? I took a 10 question quiz on Facebook the other day. At the end they’re supposed to be able to guess the number of sex partners I’ve had during my life. Their guess? 862. WTF?? Did I answer exactly like Wilt Chamberlain, or something? I’m not going to go too deeply into the details, but their number is SLIGHTLY overstated. Good god.
I need to call it a day, my friends. A cubicle of broken dreams is calling my name. But, before I go…
Someone posted on Facebook a few days ago about the new tattoos he and a buddy got, to commemorate the Replacements reunion. The photo is below, and is in reference to the last song on the Hootenanny album.
I don’t have any tattoos, but I started thinking… If I’d gotten one for every concert I attended during my life, which would be the most embarrassing in 2015? Molly Hatchet? Loverboy? Hall & Oates? It’s hard to say. The Beach Boys would be fairly lame, as well. And I doubt too many people have Statler Bros. tattoos.
How would you answer that question? And I’ll leave you now with our old buddy Harv, who clearly wasn’t embarrassed by any of his musical choices. He probably should’ve been (Toto?!), but he wore it all as a badge of honor.
Have yourselves a great day, my friends.
I’ll be back soon.