Tracking the dreaded Hurricane Butt, or, Who you calling Greg Brady?

I do not know why so many of my friends are women. I am neither a womanizer nor a ladies man. I am also not a lady boy. So why it shakes out that way is beyond me. In fact, I didn't even notice it for the longest time. I had friends all over the place. I enjoyed visiting them and enjoyed writing them.

So it wasn't until one day I was transferring my old, decrepit address book into a shiny new one with parchmentesque paper with gold gilded edges (A buck seventy nine at Eckerd's Drugs) that I noticed it. Laureen, Becky, Susan, Vicky, Mrs. Powell...hey!, these are all girls.

So I thought back on it and tried to remember if it was in way a "wanna be your girlfriend" relationship with any of them, and no, not to the best of my knowledge. Now, as Jethro Tull would put it, I am as thick as a brick, but still, at some point I would have had to notice if I was getting the come on. Therefore, I was able to reach the only logical conclusion. Friendmones.

Yeah, friendmones. Like pheremones, but different. When you give off pheremones it makes a woman want to throw you on the couch and smooch you up good, even if she don't know why. Friendmones makes her tell you about the funny stuff her cat does and invite you to go pick apples with her. I gots the friendmones workin'.

The drama all day yesterday here in the Tampa Bay area was tracking Hurricane Katrina. We got a live update, delivered breathlessly every half hour, with graphics and the apparently hot stuff VIPIR Radar. A lot of effort and air time for a hurricane that continues to move steadily away from us and isn't even giving us any rain to speak of. N'awlins, Biloxi and Pensecola TV tracking the hurricane so diligently I could understand. But the slight difference, as I see it anyway, is that it is moving towards them. We're looking at, and tracking, hurricane butt.

Me and tad talked long and hard about a business plan and marketing strategies for the production studio we want to start up. He's a terribly smart cookie, although that's where the cookie analogy stops. He's not particularly sweet, no chocolate chips or coconuts, and not minty, although I don't really get close enough to swear to the not minty part. But I suspect a pronounced lack on mintiness when we converse.

As we talked, I asked him, "What do I bring to the table? Where do you think I fit in?" See, he has the knowledge to run the place (I can help, but he is wa-a-a-y beyond me in knowledge), he has over the past decade bought and configured all of the equipment, and he has the local contacts. So I couldn't help but wonder why he needs me at all.

"Because, Edddd (he kinda draws my name out), you're gonna have to be the face of the company. You're gregarious (which I suspect is a sideways reference to me being like Greg Brady, eewwww!) and have fun talking to people. You're gonna do that stuff for us. And be a producer." Yeah, me as a producer. Right. "No, Eddd. Think about it. I never met a producer that wasn't very odd. You're odd too. You're eccentric. In a real laid back, southern way." I think I my have been complimented. Kinda. Or maybe not.

Anyway, thanks for all the comments yesterday. Really made me smile. Red Queen, sorry I was trying to coax your daughter to look slutty. It was just something to do. Jn, good luck with the nose hole. I understand, actually, that ice, a large needle, a small hammer and a block of wood is a quite economical way to get a nose hole also. If you go that route though, wear torn fishnets. It'd just be appropriate. And Murf...Murf...Murf. As always, you always crack me up. I look forward to your questions and the challenge of always not quite answering them for you.

Greg Brady, out
Ramblin' Ed