Outta cigs…….

So….. On way home I went thru the Phillips 66... Now I’m not fond of Phillips 66... I like spending my money at places where I know the people that own the joint are “townies.” Local. They remember Tippy Butts (old, kinda grumpy hunchback guy who walked the streets in the day)… they’ve “broke ‘em” at Bud’s Pool Hall more’n once… They lived/helped thru the ice storms, tornadoes that have hit our little burg…

But I stopped anyways… With gas at $2.84 a gallon, u don’t just go one block beyond to your favorite place, u stop in the path the least geographically challenged..

Poured a 20 ounce Coke… two other dudes inside… one, a peach-fuzz face guy roughly 30, and an older feller - maybe Mexican, probably 40-ish, standing by the counter… The lady working there, in her defense, looked like a ‘townie.’ As in, think I’d seen her at the Piggly Wiggly. Hell, I ain’t sure, mighta been at a Little League game.. I dunno…

Overhead, right next to the spy cameras that invade our privacy and look down u women’s tops, there were some speakers blaring some County Music stuff… I’m not a Country Music aficionado, but I considered it cool because the clerk - this lady who looked like a ‘townie’.. maybe 50-ish… far, far from posing for “Fit Magazine”… well, she was dancing to the music above.. Taking inventory with this farcified scanner do-hickey…

I proceeded to the counter… Mexican looking fellow uninterested in racing me there... Peach fuzz guy still working on his soft drink… Clerk, who appeared as a ‘townie’ danced her way back behind the counter, arms flailing, body that wasn’t “Fit Magazine” quality wiggling, ie, having fun.

Peach fuzz dude observes…. With tongue in cheek spouts “hey woman, slow down now.”…

This prompted ‘townie” Phillips 66 clerk to “get into it” even more... Hell, I felt like tipping. When’s the last time you wanted to tip at a gas station?… Mexican dude... Hella smile on his face… downplayed Peach fuzz’s (tongue in cheek) advice… smiled broadly at me and said, loud enough for Peach Fuzz and ‘townie’ to hear… “Boogie til you die.”

Wow. I knew friggin’ right then and there, within minutes, I’d be writing you. I Googled “Boogie til you die” and didn’t find shit. Should. What profound advice.

He spoke this advice to the clerk, the ‘townie’, this lady who looked like a ‘townie’.. maybe 50-ish… far, far from posing for “Fit Magazine”… She wasn’t like onea them chicks where guys hang out simply to stare at her derriere.. Or perhaps her cleavage when she bent over to tear off two lottery scratch off tickets... She was average, or actually, below (in appearance.)

It moved me. It was a lesson. I look in the mirror and see crater face. I see and observe the younger generation and I think “holy shit, how will I ever keep up.”

Don’t haveta. Looks don’t matter. Craters don’t matter. Status doesn’t really matter. Ethnicity really doesn’t matter.

Outlook matters. Screw what other’s think. Hear a great song, crank it. Feel a fun phrase insideya? Spout it out. See someone having fun - and they don’t know you’re looking? Let ‘em know you saw, and that you appreciated their ‘fun’. Little kid dancing? High five him. Groupa old fogies hee-hawing over what one of ‘em said, enjoy - and smile.

Boogie til you die. I fucking love that advice. All about choices, all about dancing thru those down times… all about 2-steppin during the good times. It’s too bad it ain’t the New Year. I really think I’d use that as onea my Resolutions. Yeah, that’d be good. Right.

Boogie til you die. We don’t need no stinking badges. We don’t needs no self-help books. It’s ALL right there. Boogie til you die. Fuckin’ A Ray. Love, Victurd.