La de da de da in Normal entries
- July 19, 2013, 5:38 p.m.
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- Public
I had to go running out today, no not literally running, I mean I had to sit in the jeep and bitch about traffic, though, at its worst, EL and the Moo U campus are like driving in the parking lot at Disneyland; nobody wants to stay a second longer, but they are in no great rush to die, homicide perhaps, but not suicide. The town had some funny timing on when they decided to fix the streets. The summer makes sense, but they started before graduation and will end after all the other forty five thousand delinquents return. I just mean normally it’s like driving in the Disneyland parking lot after hours.
I did, however, have to go out of doors a few times.
I think if you are born in the South West of these United States you’re first words are not da-da or ma-ma but “yeah, but it’s a dry heat”. Bakersfield California will not issue a birth certificate without a father’s name, it doesn’t have to be the father but the blank has to be filled in. I know this because my job used to involve, among several thousand other things, finding putative fathers, and, often the SoCal certificates listed celebrities; Magic Johnson, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Superman. I think in Bakersfield “Yeah but it’s a dry heat” is probably the father of every Gemini.
Portland Metro was much smaller when I moved there. For years I found myself in this conversation “Where are you from?” If I were talking to a Sou’wester it would always get around to “Yeah, but it’s a dry heat”. I took to responding to bitching about the Oregon rain with “Yeah, but it’s a dry rain”. Why? Because I’m a smart ass, not as in an intelligent or funny ass but as in “Ouch, that smarts, ass”.
Michigan? It’s not a dry heat. Not here. Not dead center of below sea level swamp. I mean it’s not the sort of swamp you think of when you think of a swamp; I always picture the Keys or the everglades. Nope. In fact if you don’t know where to look you’d be hard pressed to find anything that looks like a swamp. In the summer the swamp is in the air, I swear some of those skeeters are tadpoles. I would sacrifice another ten degrees of heat to lose all the humidity. I would love to say, truthfully, “It’s a dry heat”.
So I had to go to the Doc’s office because the one script is so high and mighty it needs to be analog, and I was a nuisance at the pharmacy. In one way or the other this whole world, ok, maybe just this country runs on one degree or another of sophistication of playground philosophy. The one of many that men exercise the most often is “He started it!” That’s why I don’t feel bad about chewing the ears off the unfortunates who asked me if there was anything they could help me with, sir. I had the manager engaged in a five minute discussion about light bulbs. He opened several packs. I had this one lady trying to answer; why would anyone buy the pro-health for gingivitis, or for plaque or sensitive teeth, when the big one claims it does all that? I went through several employees, one of the last I just had to make shit up “Um, are the store brand oatmeal cookies soft or crunchy?” After three minutes of trying to help I said I didn’t really want cookies anyhow, but I might one day. I did not, however, take the first punch, I mean I did not go up to any man/woman jack one of them and say “Excuse me, I have a question”. They started it.
They had the AC cranked and I had to wait for my scripts, which, by the way I took a lot of before starting to write. Or, rather, because I took a lot I figured it was either write or start some other project that needs doing but that I’ll regret having started. Among those would be looking through the Walgreens bags to see what exactly I did get. I’d kind of like an oatmeal cookie now that I think about it. I like mine crunchy.
I might even do another flash after I lay down for a minute, thinking cool thoughts and marveling at the freshly painted ceiling. But now, I’m spent. Wait, that’s not right.
And I’m spent.
There that’s better.
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