Let me tell you 'bout..

I got this friend. She assumes, correctly, that she looks like a character from Scooby Doo. Now I won't tell you which character, because I don't know the character's name, but it's not Scooby because Scooby is way far cool and also a dog, and it's not Shaggy because he's a stoner. And a guy, too. So, as you may have surmised, this lady looks like one of the girls. Characters. In the Scooby cartoon. I tell you that because, well because I needed to get the blog going and I don't know where to start. (Plus maybe this shout out will keep her from suing me for stealing the picture off her website.)

So, my least favorite thing about phosphate trains. They'll have you sitting on Causeway Blvd for 15 minute stretches thinking, "Not sure I want to do this daggone* drive every single day". Then it'll finally pass and you'll be moving again.

I listened to Disc 2 of the Bocephus Box all the way to work yesterday and Tom Petty's Greatest Hits all the way back. Tom Petty got the nod only because I had left the disc I really wanted to listen to, Little Feat's Waiting For Columbus, in my truck after my unsuccessful dump run. Dang closed dumps! By the way, to make the double live LP fit on one CD they left off one song. Guess which one. Yep, that campfire classic, Don't Bogart That Joint. Don't...... bogart that joint..... my friend. Pass it over to me-e-e-e......

I cannot believe me. No, I don't mean when I tell myself something. I'm no liar. I mean the direction my life is taking. Guess what I did last night? For homework even. I studied Medicare Parts A, B and the new Part D, and Medigap policies A through G+, with G+ being one we apparently made up so we could stand out from the crowd.

I mean, I'm getting too weird for myself. I dress up nice with a tie and all (good move buying all those tailored suits in Bangkok), slick my hair down good and slather on the fu-fu juice. Still, inside I'm me and it's manifested something like this: "Hi, I'm Ramblin' Ed Abernathy. I have rebel flags on my pick-up, listen to Drive By Truckers and entertain fantasies that often include lingere models and dang amphibians. I am here to help you maintain your quality of life." Don't say it, I know....

I found Centerview Street again yesterday. I didn't know it was lost, but when I saw it I got a big "Oh yeah" moment. Had a friend there once, a long time ago. She cooked me an omlette in her underwear. Or would have if her mother hadn't made her go "put something on". Dang mothers who make people put something on. And of course her dad would have pummeled me if he had of walked in, although truth be told, some things in life are worth a slight pummeling.

OK, smarties. She wouldn't have cooked it in her underwear. She would have cooked it in a pan like any normal exhibitionist would have. I meant she was going to cook it while wearing...oh, never mind.

OK I have to go decide which of the 9 white shirts I'll wear today. Hmmmm, I think I'll go with the white one today. Then I have to decide which disc to cue up for the long drive in, slop some hamburger helper in a tupperware for a so-called lunch, put some buff action to the shoes** and read the funnies. Really, my peeps, there is much to do to get ready. So, um, later.

Boppin', out
Ramblin' Ed

*In my world, and often in my whole geographic location, the term "daggone" IS really a word.
** It amazes me how many people who dress nicely don't bother to maintain their shoes up to speed. Some one in scuffed shoes strikes me as somebody who will cut corners. Maybe that's the navy in me, but I had a Captain tell me once, "Don't just shine the toe, shine the whole shoe. Anybody who'd shine half a shoe would do half a job." That has always stuck with me.