Damn you gotta dirty mind. Not AT ALL what the title meant!
No, she didn't used to be mine... Last night she insisted, persisted, so I finally did friggin' dance. I begged/pleaded ("Please Sanford... I'm toooo white!") for him to cut in - to no avail. (No, it wasn't the Hokey Pokey... but I kinda wished it was... remember I taught Elementary PE so I'm a bonified professional Hokey Pokey instructor)... But it was a nice lesson - as she then proceeded to fill me in on my rumored ugly behavior in a dying relationship. Wow, I don't remember being that creepy - and it somehow had the aroma of 'justification'... Thankfully, she said "Sanford said "no way that'd be Vic" when I told him what I heard." All I needed to hear. Funny the twists/turns life takes. Ironically, just the other day I founda note I'd written (and stuck in the back pocket of her slacks before she left for work) and it was dated less than two months before she ran off on a Harley with ZZ Top. It said "damn you gotta nice butt." Rectom I was horrible eh? Ok, perhaps I embellish too... It mighta been a Suzuki.
It was a Bill Murray Ground Hog's day night. As anticipated: Temps, Clarence Carter Clarence Carter, Dixie Chicks, Jack and Diane, Ring of Fire, The Big Bopper... bowling... I won one, finished second once.. then the last game we entered other people's names... I ("Tom") finished last... but lo and behold "Vic" won!
I gave Patty (barkeep) crap all night (with crooked mouth) and strategy musta worked - as when I passed her the twenty for the last beer of the night - she slid the Miller Lite my way, as well as the twenty I'd tried to give her. Pardon my French, it's a motherfucker being labeled nice/calm all my life. Remember? I was making $60K as Sonic manager when I was summoned in, demoted to $24K assistant manager - and I learned "You know what your problem is? You are too God-damned nice." I'm thinkin' about working on my hawking (spitting) abilities to disuade these pre-conceived notions - but then again I now have implants, so perhaps not a great idea.
It was also "former inlaw" night... as sister inlaw, nephew in law, another former brother in law, hell even the ex and ZZ were there. Seriously, enjoyed visiting and hugging them each... well, ceptin' the ex... ZZ had a pool cue in hand... and remember, I have implants.
My friend "S", who happens to be black, and I once again rehashed life in Liberty in the 60's. I told "S" had I been black, I think I'd be dead now... and he said had he been white, he'd be dead too! I love that guy, and he's got a killer killer smile that says "wow... I do love this life."
Long about 12:30, as the numbers dwindled "Let's go to The Landing" rang out. No thanks, I'm too (tired, old, poor, don't have legal tags, maybe shouldn't have any more). Damn.... the Landing was packed.
The people that left the one joint, now at the other joint, were again together - yet surrounded by maybe 250 more.. and the biggest difference was you couldn't hear the conversation it was so loud. Eh, most people don't remember what's said after 1am anways. Saw my best friend... and there's a pattern here, as my best friend's girl was off on the dance floor.
A friend related to me a pickup line used recently... "Hey... let's go make out.. my car or yours?"... I thought about trying it just to see the reaction on random choice's face... but then I remembered implants, so I didn't.
It worked. The frown is now upside down. It's 45 degrees. I had a heapin' helpin' of breakfast/cigs and coffee at Perkins. Got wild hair to drive out into country to visit a friend we spoke of last night.. "Gosh, I haven't seen him since my dad's funeral in 2003." Bummer, I wasn't 100% sure which house it was... I was gonna go knock on the one I thought it was, but then I remembered implants. It was a nice thought though. Recommendation: always carry a phone book in your car. Who needs em at home, ya got the freakin' internet. And no, I don't call in advance - I'm a rude mo-fo, and remember, I'm working on defusing the nice/calm image.
The rollercoaster, ya gotta love it. Well, ceptin' that one at Disneyworld that's indoors and completely dark. I'd never get on that bastard again. Something about girders and implants that don't mix well.
If you're too nice, learn to spit. If you already spit on people - I hope you never haveta get implants. Less'n you got small boobies, then I reckon it'd be Ok. Victor, you're nuts. Si, this I know. And nice, and calm, and poor, and horny........ oops. Sorry! Love, Victurd.
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