Posted on July 14, 2009
The Odious Stench Of Burning Flesh, or Summertime In The South!
I’m not sure what weather conditions are like in whatever part of the world it is that you find yourself as you read this, but things are pretty miserable around here. For those who don’t know, I live Deep In The Heart Of Texas. Well, maybe not quite so near the heart, if you want to be specific about your lyrical metaphors. If, for example, the heart is roughly around the center of the state’s anthropomorphized body, then my city would be located somewhere in its pelvic region. It would be deep, though. Very deep. Gastrointestinaly deep, along the lines of a lower intestinal blockage in the Lone Star State’s digestive tract. Deep In The Heart Of Sewage! Read More
Posted on July 13, 2009
Where’s The Decade?
I had dinner this weekend with my Godson, who I’m certain was born only a few years ago, yet he seems to be starting high school this year. He is already enrolled in driver’s education, and his existence makes me feel old. Time is a funny thing. It passes by painfully slowly when we’re young, but picks up steam as we move along. Our teen years pass by a little faster than our naughts, and our twenties (if we’re doing them right) move by in a blur, accelerated by oceans of alcohol, endless parties, and way too much sex. Before we know it, we’re in our thirties and looking back on a confusing haze we call the past, where everything seems to be just a little bit closer than it actually is. What looks like yesterday was actually last year, and what looks like last year was, in fact, a couple of decades ago. It’s a confusing endeavor, getting older. Read More
Posted on July 7, 2009
The Fine Dining Of Indecision
Last night, after Brittany returned home from work, we headed out to grab some food and visit a friend of ours. You might think this sounds like a simple affair. You would be wrong.
The decision to go out to eat is often a simple one that leads to enormous and daunting complications. Primarily, we can never arrive at a mutually acceptable decision concerning where we want to eat. Often, not even the type of food can be agreed upon. Fast food? Restaurant? Mexican? Italian? Chinese?
What basically happens is that we pile into the car and hit the open road, intent on enjoying the journey rather than the destination, because the decision about the destination is something that is often made for us, and born out of equal parts frustration, starvation, and geolocation (the proximity of the nearest building with food in it when all negotiations break down often being the chief determinant.) Read More
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