Southern Style

According to The Birmingham News, a brother (age 44) and sister (age 41), spending the evening relaxing on the porch of the brother's mobile home, became so drunk that they found their minds wandering to dirty thoughts. One thing led to another (as it often does with sibling love), and they wound up inside the trailer having incest sex.

"This sure tastes mighty fine."

"Yessir, I do believe I am gettin' myself liquored up."

"That thar's a purty sunset."

"Sure 'nuf. So, how long ya stayin' fer?"

"Don't know. When's Lorna gettin' off her shift at the Winn Dixie?"

"Not 'til mornin'. She's stockin' them shelves all night."

"Oh. Well, what do ya wanna do?"

"I dunno. What do ya wanna do?"

"I's guessin' we could find somethin' to pass the time."

"Why, how 'bout we play a little game. Jus' liken we was kids?"

"Well, now, that sounds fine, fine."

"Get on over here and show yer big brother how much ya love 'em."

Apparently sis had the chute that her big brother wanted to slide down, so they didn't need silly board games to stay busy. It all went to crap when Lorna (not her real name) got home and found her husband and sister-in-law going at it in the bedroom. Alabama doesn't condone such behavior (as if you would even question such a thing), so they arrested the couple and charged them with felony incest. They both face up to 10 years in jail. The brother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and said he wanted to "go out crazy."

Two final thoughts come to mind here.
One: Though only some southerners spoil it for the rest of the region's citizens, the jokes come too damn easily not to mock these poor toothless souls.
Two: Getting your NASCAR driver's number tattooed on your ass is a better way to "go out crazy" than making the mattress squeak with your sister. Now that's just a darn good life rule. Live by it ya'll.

Unexplained Phenomenon

I decided to take advantage of the lovely 81 degree day and take a walk this afternoon. As I did so, I walked farther north than normal and passed through a neighborhood where I witnessed an inexplicable phenomenon. That's right - the male hangout in the garage.

Three different homes with their garage doors opened revealed little male havens within, equipped with recliners (or reclining couch for one lucky guy), televisions, refrigerators and beer signs on the walls. One garage was spotless with a shiny floor, area rug, stand-alone air conditioner and microwave. One garage was not occupied. Since the garage had a fridge in it, I imagine the only thing that would have caused Jimbo to go in was the need to relieve himself. I saw one guy sitting alone in his garage, about 2 feet in front of the tv, eating a meal off of a footstool. Another guy was sitting in his garage with a couple of his buddies.

These sights had me asking a few questions as I walked by these little hideaways.

1. Is the garage really another living room?

2. Do I actually live in a much larger house? Should I include the garage when I calculate square footage?

3. What causes men to spend their evenings relaxing in the same place most people park cars and store tools, lawn chemicals and bug sprays?

4. What's wrong with the INSIDE of the house? Just too damn comfortable? Doesn't provide a good enough view of the driveway?

5. Do men only do this in Phoenix?

6. Do the women in these households really have that much power that the men can't watch tv and drink beer on the new furniture?

That pretty much sums up the wonderings of my mind. I would appreciate any help in answering these critical-to-life questions.

Hot Stuff

Let's talk temperatures, folks. Mid-90s today in the valley of the sun. Wow, am I ever not ready for the onslaught of heat. I guess I better get used to it because the 100-degree days are just around the corner.

I'm trying to be positive because some people want me to tone down the negativity. Here it goes:

I drove home today and didn't get a flat tire.

I still have a job.

No one stole my car this week (you're right, it's only Thursday).

My hair looks cute today (ok, most days).

I have a nice house.

I have a nice car.

I have never paid a dime to credit card companies for interest.

I've never had to sell myself for drug money. Wait a minute, I have never had to sell myself for any kind of money.

As of the end of May, I will have two months off.

I have full mobility in my legs.

I'm a damn good speller.

Ok, see. That wasn't so hard after all. I actually do feel better. I am going to try to do that more often.

Thanks, chunk.

Cockroach Carcass Clean-up

Do you know how difficult it is to pick up a cockroach carcass off of the floor with a strategically folded piece of paper? Sudden spasms from the writhing insect make the task even more challenging. I don't enjoy doing this, but that's what I had to do at the workplace today. No, I don't work in food service. Thank goodness for that.

As I drove home today, I had a revelation. These epiphanies are golden. I wish they burst into my mind more often. Anyway, it is this. I am a cynic (not the revelation), and sometimes I am a confused cynic. And at times, I might even find myself happily confused. However, I am NEVER just happy. It's this sort of extreme negativity thing. I think I would rather be a bit bi-polar. Then I would at least have heightened happiness. I wouldn't enjoy the inevitable crashes or the nagging need to avoid taking my meds, but this seems somewhat appealing. True negativity dictates my thoughts; my efforts at being positive usually only last a short while. How do I become positive? I don't need to be giddy or fanciful or sprightly. I just want to be happy.

This is for all of you optimists out there. Where's the silver lining? Can you help me find it, touch it, treasure it? Because right now I just want to rip it out, tear it up and shove it in the garbage can.

The Inner-Workings of the Mind

Not THE MIND, in general, but the female mind. I have to wonder why the female mind (my mind) works as it does. Ok, well, I suppose the basic biology course taught me that - hormones and all that other crap.

NEW SUBJECT: Music. I stopped off at the local record store on the way home from work today. It made me feel old because it was full of a few teenagers and this trashy, tattooed, blonde woman who kept talking to her offspring on the telephone loud enough for all music-lovers to hear. I gather they're having spaghetti and garlic bread for supper but no salad. Jimmy doesn't like that, so no salad.

I did buy some CDs while I listened to the woman make dinner plans for the 8 occupants of her mobile home (stereotyping, I know - but I like to do it from time to time). I decided a little punk (Social D) and some 80s was in order. I kid you not, I bought the Vision Quest soundtrack, the Stand By Me soundtrack and wanted Outfield Play Deep. They didn't have that in stock. Jerks. Guess I am feeling like tripping down old memory lane with those choices. Lots of distant memories there. All right, so I have now confirmed that I am old. I have just under 4 months left in my 20s. Where exactly did the time go?

Setting Records

Yes, that's what I'm all about . . . setting records. Achieving high standards no others will be able to attain. I have now posted two, count them, two days in a row. Stupendous work on my part.

In addition, I have started writing again. I really do want to write. I know I have a novel in me, or maybe even a screenplay. I just need the right amount of writing time and inspiration. Maybe I can fit more writing into my busy schedule. It's just real life that keeps getting in the way. Damn responsibilities.

Thank you, Holden, for giving me direction.

No More Drinks on the Open Road

Headline: Montana set to outlaw drinking while driving

Excuse me? Did I read that correctly? Yep, sure did. The Montana legislature is just now taking steps to outlaw open containers for drivers on their highways. Seems certain cities and towns banned it in the city limits, but out on the old two-lanes it's been fine to haul along a six pack, a fifth and a couple of wine coolers. Hmmmm. Ok. Just kind of working this around in the mind here. I think . . . I know . . . these people are stupid (as many people are).

A few of my family members actually live in the great state - you know, Big Sky Country. I don't believe any of them have taken advantage of the freedom to throw back a few while behind the wheel. Apparently some of the militia-men have made sure this "personal freedom" has not been attacked. They put their rifles in the rifle rack, stock the coolers on the floorboards of their pick-up trucks and head out for a drink . . . and probably a hunt for deer, elk, prairie dogs or some such creature.

Well, I am sad to report those frolicking days are over for Montana-ites. So darn sad. I guess they'll just have to drink in the bars or their homes or something. I wonder if they'll need to close the drive-thru liquor stores now. Less business, I suppose.

Ok, Mississippi, your turn to ban drinks in the car (the last state holding out for this God-given American right).

I have to thank those diligent lawmakers in Montana. Way to go (good ol') boys.

Now, I am done.