So I Googled “Things to do when you are bored.”

My house is staring at me. It wants/begs attention. I don’t wanna. Tomorrow. I’ll get to that tomorrow. My belly juts out, pleading “Victor, make me like I was back in 1970” -> I ain’t got the energy. So I went to stupid online dating website, where there is actually a place where you can ‘chat’ with other singles.. the ones I tried musta had very good eyesight, they didn’t wanna.

So, some’a the crap Google suggested:

“Give your cat a mohawk.” “Setup your Christmas Tree in May.” “Serve ping pong balls as hors d’oeuvres.” “Have a formal dinner at White Castle.” “Flash your goldfish.” “Balance a pencil on your nose.” “Program the courthouse clock to play Dueling Banjos at the top of every hour.”

And of course, remembering back to the day where I/we actually admitted I/we was/were simpletons/bored:

Out and about on a Saturday night. Had’a buddy, whom we’d asked “wanna go too”..”Nah, thanks, you guys go ahead.”.. so we did… we ‘borrowed’ 132 real estate “For Sale” signs, and plastered them in his front yard after dark.

Putting a poo-poo cushion in Naomi Johnson’s chair.

Affixing a Playboy foldout out to the roll down map of the United States in Naomi Johnson’s class. (I dunno why we always picked on her… nice lady.. mebbe that’s why we did!)

Super gluing the plates, silverware to the tables at Miller’s Diner…

Await a friend finally falling asleep, shave his left eyebrow off.

12 Sigma Nu’s. Carry Dr. Mathis’s VW up to “The Quad”….

Then… I found a (close your ears) “Do gooders” site with suggestions:

Hangout with old people. They have great stories and sometimes need the company.(Nah, I do that a couple three times a week with Tom/Clay already.)

Perform random acts of kindness. (I will…………….. tomorrow.)

Try brewing your own beer. Or make your own wine. (Jualah! I likes!)

Start a blog. (Nah, I suck at writing.)

THERE! I did it. The above got me from 8:14am to 9:53am. My once almost empty ashtray is overflowing. It’s only 5 hours now until softball practice. The bastards, had it last week too and I was unaware. Without saying so – me thinks “Victor, face it… you’re fitty-eight, you’ve had cataract surgery for behoogity sakes.. wanna coach first? Maybe keep score?”.. hehe.. and I just might do that…

Such is the life, the light, the way – of being an old, single bored fart. “Getting outta the batter’s box” (both figuratively and literally) becoming more difficult. I will though, I promise.

Tomorrow. Love, Victurd.