My sister can't twist. But she can rock 'n roll. My sister can't twist, but she's got more soul than me.
Most people either have fans or people who vehemetly protest their very right to exist. I, on the other hand (or at least another hand) more or less have fellow travelers. People who get really worked up about... people who get sorta worked up about... well, actually we all just pretty much go with the flow. Which is cool, because the flow will go if you let it, and will take you some interesting places to eat meat snacks on a stick on the side of an Andes mountian road. The flow will also take you to TJ Maxx in a polyester minute if you're not careful. Choose your flow carefully, Grasshopper. When you can snatch the pebble from my hand you will have the stones necessary to continue.
Anyway, here's what one of my fellow travelers says about me. Read it carefully, as she is wont to be a bit cryptic:
You can find the rest if you click on that happy little link to the right that says travelin ed. He apparently doesnt travel anymore but he rambles. A lot.
Met my first road rage juvenile yesterday. He couldn't have been cuter if he tried. Face all bloated and red with rage. Screaming and spitting. Dunkin' Donuts apron and cap. I wanted to just reach out and touch him. With a shiv made from a sharpened toothbrush. It all started thusly:
We were leaving a really nice spot in front of Wal-Mart, not too far and not too sunny. As we were getting ready to enter one of the main parking lotal arteries that would lead us to a real street with a stoplight, which would in turn make crossing Bloomingdale at rush hour easier, we had our view slightly obstructed by an illegal parker. I know that some people are just so darn busy or so darn important that walking the distance represented by a few parking spaces is indeed an imposition that they just cannot abide. I understand it and therefore I accept it. I hope one day that I too am that important. Nonetheless, and by that I mean none the less.
Anyway, as I was starting to pull out on to said parking lotal artery, I saw the front of a small car zipping up from behind my visual obstruction and gently applied my brakes. I then motioned for him to please, continue on his way. He returned my politeness by bowing up and apparently cursing me soundly for my transgression. I don't care. Some people are just not "people persons".
Then when we get to the stop sign for the road, we are behind him. Me waiting my turn to enter on to the Bell Shoals Road was apparently a little too much for him to take. I could see him glaring into the rearview mirror, apparently cursing me but good again and gesturing semi-wildly with his hands. "My goodness", I thought, "He's pretty excitable." So I flipped him off.
He come out of the car like a shot, all sputtering and screaming and generally making a most impolite spectacle of himself. I was amused. Amused, but not stupid. Me and Nong smiled sweetly and waved as we pulled around his now empty Del Sol (a manly car if ever there was) and turned on to Bell Shoals. I took comfort in knowing that I lived in Florida, so when I got home should it become necessary I could whack him on the head with the piece of re-bar I keep up under the seat and just tell the Hillsborough County Sherriff that I feared the uncouth gentleman was fixin' to hurt me. That makes it all nice and legal here, you know.
Not much been writ here today. I'm feeling too good to sit here and blog. Sorry, but it happens. Too lazy to hunt pictures, too. Sad, because I think I could find a good one for road rage. Need to mention Murf here. Seems that seeing her name on someone else's blog makes her all tingly. So, here you go. Tingle. Tingle. I don't think I left any openings for Pipedragger today, either. He's a real stickler for accuracy and I am a real stickler for pretty much nothing. We get along great. I was listening to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road yesterday. What an awesome album. Sure does stand the test of time. Just like Bootsie Collins.
Onward through the fog, my peeps.
Ramblin' Ed
Anyway, here's what one of my fellow travelers says about me. Read it carefully, as she is wont to be a bit cryptic:
You can find the rest if you click on that happy little link to the right that says travelin ed. He apparently doesnt travel anymore but he rambles. A lot.
Met my first road rage juvenile yesterday. He couldn't have been cuter if he tried. Face all bloated and red with rage. Screaming and spitting. Dunkin' Donuts apron and cap. I wanted to just reach out and touch him. With a shiv made from a sharpened toothbrush. It all started thusly:
We were leaving a really nice spot in front of Wal-Mart, not too far and not too sunny. As we were getting ready to enter one of the main parking lotal arteries that would lead us to a real street with a stoplight, which would in turn make crossing Bloomingdale at rush hour easier, we had our view slightly obstructed by an illegal parker. I know that some people are just so darn busy or so darn important that walking the distance represented by a few parking spaces is indeed an imposition that they just cannot abide. I understand it and therefore I accept it. I hope one day that I too am that important. Nonetheless, and by that I mean none the less.
Anyway, as I was starting to pull out on to said parking lotal artery, I saw the front of a small car zipping up from behind my visual obstruction and gently applied my brakes. I then motioned for him to please, continue on his way. He returned my politeness by bowing up and apparently cursing me soundly for my transgression. I don't care. Some people are just not "people persons".
Then when we get to the stop sign for the road, we are behind him. Me waiting my turn to enter on to the Bell Shoals Road was apparently a little too much for him to take. I could see him glaring into the rearview mirror, apparently cursing me but good again and gesturing semi-wildly with his hands. "My goodness", I thought, "He's pretty excitable." So I flipped him off.
He come out of the car like a shot, all sputtering and screaming and generally making a most impolite spectacle of himself. I was amused. Amused, but not stupid. Me and Nong smiled sweetly and waved as we pulled around his now empty Del Sol (a manly car if ever there was) and turned on to Bell Shoals. I took comfort in knowing that I lived in Florida, so when I got home should it become necessary I could whack him on the head with the piece of re-bar I keep up under the seat and just tell the Hillsborough County Sherriff that I feared the uncouth gentleman was fixin' to hurt me. That makes it all nice and legal here, you know.
Not much been writ here today. I'm feeling too good to sit here and blog. Sorry, but it happens. Too lazy to hunt pictures, too. Sad, because I think I could find a good one for road rage. Need to mention Murf here. Seems that seeing her name on someone else's blog makes her all tingly. So, here you go. Tingle. Tingle. I don't think I left any openings for Pipedragger today, either. He's a real stickler for accuracy and I am a real stickler for pretty much nothing. We get along great. I was listening to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road yesterday. What an awesome album. Sure does stand the test of time. Just like Bootsie Collins.
Onward through the fog, my peeps.
Ramblin' Ed
That's what I'm about. Ramblin' Ed at 4:52 AM
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