So I’m at the super exciting T-ball game the other day…and what a game it was for fans of top notch, two year out of diapers type participants. Oh yeah. One kid was obsessed with what appeared to be an impacted bugger; another nearly caught the colorful butterfly she was chased numerous times over the course of the riveting game. Four ballplayers were defensively killing it on first base, while second and short had tumbleweeds blowing through with regularity. The coach had the look of a used-up hooker by the end of the first inning, and when she passed out cupcakes at the end of the game I swear she had the smell of vodka that only a T-ball coach gets when she’s spiked her red Powerade with Grey Goose.
Anyways…along the fence over by the roadway is a porta-potty. It’s one of those blue ones that I reckon gets emptied bi-annually whether it truly needs it or not. And as the pitcher catches the slow dribbled (off the bat of a kid who’s shorts are wretched so far to the left I assume the dear boy’s gonna have a difficult time fathering in the future) and launches it into short left field a Lowe’s van pulls up near the blue porta-potty. Now most of us in the stands (lawn chairs on the basketball court) could see the van, and for a moment I wondered what forest creature had ordered an easy chair or sofa? But it became quite apparent when the short, heavyset man disembarked from the driver’s seat and began that dreaded walk of shame that all of us must take at some point in our lives. Became apparent that he was in “intestinal distress” as he walked penguin like toward the blue bathroom it appeared the real game was gonna be between the young teenage girl who was walking to the potty, and the man who was headed there with some haste.
“I’m rootin’ for the dude, he looks to have a load going before he gets the back door open,” some granny off to my right expressed, and for just a moment I had to agree with her. Mainly because I can remember moments in my life when a blue porta-potty in the middle of nowhere was my salvation. But then I thought of the girl…if she had to go into that small container on an eighty degree day after this fat bastard blew it up? And the way he was moving I assumed what he needed to expel wasn’t an iceberg…more like a dirty river?
The girl beat him by about ten steps, and she was quick because he was doing a foot to foot two-step outside like the launch code had already been called and couldn’t be stopped. Then a little boy (pre-T-ball age) approached the door as the delivery guy was doing things inside that porta-potty we don’t talk about. With a little kinda skip the kid went beside the blue crate and pulled his shorts down to his ankles. And that was that…he’d solved the issue with simplicity beyond his years.
I love that kid.
He reminded me of simplicity in life.
Have you ever put a bread wrapper inside your boots when it’s slushy outside? I mean seriously…before we could afford water resistant boots? I can remember my Mother being just pissed all to hell that I threw a half load of bread away, but my tootsies stayed nice and dry. Or a large sandwich baggie (non-ziplock mind you) placed inside both your gloves before the epic snowball fight?
Have you ever used a rock as a hammer? Tell the truth…you did, didn’t you? It was while you were tryin’ to slam a mostly straight nail that you’d pulled outta a rotten board with your fingers. The makeshift piece of crap clubhouse you were making required simplicity because who had the money for a hammer, and if you used your Dad’s it’d sure as shit get warped or some foreign shit. So you picked up a good sized rock and used it, and if the nail bend shortly after connecting the two boards you just beat that sucker into the wood. Simple.
I bet I own seventeen hammers now, though if I need one it’ll take a half hour to find. One of my kids misplaced the dern thing for sure, or the wife used it in the attic to kill a spider. It’ll be warped now anyways, and even if I do find it I’ll surely bend that nail before I get it all the way home into the piece of wood. Then I’ll be sweatin’ and just a cussin’ while I try and ply that sucker back out. And I’ll take up early day drinking and hire a contractor for sure.
I wonder if most guys find a women in miss-matched socks as sexy as I do? Seriously…for years prior to marriage I believed women spent their time picking out combinations to send a man’s imagination soaring on a par with whether her bra matched her panties? A blue sock along with a red was my favorite combination, though I once saw a purple striped one in conjunction with a solid green one that had me on the verge of premature…well, you know.
I now understand that women don’t do this intentionally…they really don’t give two shits out of a shit shaker about socks and whether they match. Seeing as how I have twenty pair of white socks and have never had to try and match them…I now get it.
But it’s still just as sexy as all get out.
Have you ever driven a nail into a board, I mean just barely? I mean where you can pull it back out with your fingers? Then driven it in just a bit to the side? Back it back out? Then repeat tens of times, making a crater? If you do this long enough and don’t drive it so deep you can’t get it back out you can truly drill a hole through a board. Not a perfect hole mind ya, but a functional hole. A sweet hole where a rope can be crammed through to function as a handle, or a space for you to see outside your door when the town’s bully is on the rampage and you’ve got the most punchable face in the place?
Simplicity with a side order of need.
I think I have great calves. Seriously, God didn’t bless me with a broad chest, six pack abs, or a head of gorgeous hair. On no…I’m one of those guys that afterwards folks will say, “Oh, was he there…I didn’t see him.” I’m that guy, in my single days, that the gals would express their libido driven desires too. Oh yeah, if they found some guy in the room worthy of a little horizontal cha-cha I was gonna hear about it, or if some dude was just so sensitive it made her wittle heart melt.
They just never saw my calves.
Is it completely inappropriate for me to shave my legs? Come on, I got these dynamite calves from my Mother anyway? And lots of guys have hairless legs anyways. And they beam out like beacons? They’re fuckin’ spectacular and I don’t wanna hide it anymore! I might even take up wearing ankle socks and begin tanning them like some Dimestore trollop who’s looking to get lucky at the beach.
Did you know you can kinda use a flat head screwdriver to turn a phillips head screw? It doesn’t work the other way…no fool in their right mind would try and use a phillips head screwdriver to turn a flathead…but if the screw isn’t too tight you don’t have to resort to using your knife…
Nowadays you have flat heads, phillips heads, allen heads, star heads, and any other heads I can misspell for the sake of this rant. I swear their making blue clover heads now like a miss matched box of Lucky Fuckin’ Charms. And it doesn’t matter anyways, because whatever head it happens to be…that’ll be the one missing from my toolbox. If I have a complete set of American and Metric open ended wrenches…I mean a complete set that’s only missing the 9/16th because that’s the son of a bitch I left on the roof of my truck just before I drove off to the Tasty-Freeze…that’s the only size that will be needed. Grandchild’s tricycle has a blow-out and grandpa needs to fix? 9/16th. Mama’s washer is making a funny racket and the door just blew upwards and took out the light fixture? 9/16th. Pipe bomb end for my daughter’s new boyfriend’s convertible with the fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror? You guessed it. 9/16th.
And no…I’ll never replace that 9/16th. It’s the principal of the thing…
Does anyone else miss the days before cellphones? And the fact that I just used an outdated word like “cellphone” says a lot about modernity anyways…when did we stopped being bored? And I’m dead serious here; when do we take the time to daydream anymore? Just sit and imagine? Watch the clouds drift overhead, or a couple of hawks riding majestically on whatever breeze is blowing up there? And I’m not looking down my nose here, I’m as guilty as anyone of popping the ole Android out at a moments notice and playing a game, or watching videos of people actually doing something. And how many folks “do something” do it only because they know it’ll make a good video? I saw a girl actually using a mirror to take a picture of herself taking a selfie in the mirror! OMG!
I want a Grandma. I had two, and both passed away many years ago…and I miss them horribly. Now I don’t know how many folks feel like I do, but wouldn’t it be nice to call someone (not text mind you) and have them keep you on the phone? Seriously, I can remember complaints about not being able to get off the phone in the 20th Century…nowadays it’s a contest to see who can get back to Facebook or Insta-Gram the fastest. And it’s those conversations with lots of blank air, like neither has anything important to say but they just want to stay connected. And then Grandma will say something like, “well I hate to go Bobby, it’s been so nice talkin’ to you, but I’ve got a set of raspberry crumpets in the oven and I think they should be just about done.” And then she’ll go off on another tangent about how blackberries should be in season soon and if I’ll pick her a couple of quarts she’ll bake us a pie. And that’ll lead to a few sentences about how the blackberries of 2016 were rather skinny and bitter because it stopped raining that summer, and you just know some raspberry crumpets are getting a little too brown around the edges.
So….I’m looking for Grandmothers. If I can get five on retainer I’ll start Hire a Granny in early 2020. Qualifications will include: Baking abilities, quality memory retention of made up mutual past events, moments notice pick up duties, clothes washing and drying services, and up to four hours a day of good listening. It’ll pay Granny $7.00 per hour, plus delivery of seasoned firewood, cleaning of rain gutters, snow shoveling duties, and light lawn care. Clients of Hire a Granny may also be called up in sudden spider kill duty, nuisance dogs in the yard duty, and “take Grandpa fishing” ventures because the old guy finally got his family sized bottle of Viagra and Granny needs a friggin’ break!
Be wonderful out there my fine people, and love yourself because you’re the only you you got!!!