Monday, September 12, 2005

Everyone Report to the Dance Floor

1) Don’t worry kids…no, I have not been carried off by inhabitants of the Carolina Raptor center, but thanks for asking. On a side note, how much do I wish that the Raptor center housed the actual dinosaurs and not a couple of heavily sedated hawks who flap their wings twice and look bored as hell in exchange for some raw chicken. I was running a couple of days ago and saw a hawk holding some sort of hamster or something in its large talons (to be read as Napoleon Dynamite). It was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk and, although I am hardly Sam’s Club Val-U-Sized I’m still bigger than a bird—but this thing didn’t move. It stared me down with its little eyes, like I was going to go all Richard Gere and swipe its gerbil. No kidding, it freaked me the hell out. If I were an Indian (you know, the kind you can’t have a mascot named after), I probably would name my first child Squatting Hawk. Or Richard Gere.

2) In all seriousness, much love goes out to the victims of Hurricane Katrina. And Michael Wiltz or Rob Savoy, if you happen to ever read this page, please email me at the address above. I know I haven’t talked to either of you in a while, but I’ve tried lately without luck. Here’s hoping I just have old phone numbers and that you (and your families) are both safe somewhere. I hope every relocated evacuee has the opportunity to make new, prosperous lives for themselves…and secretly a part of me hopes that a practicing Voodoo Queen ends up in rural Idaho, where she terrorizes people at the local Albertson’s by asking where she can find some marmot claws or feral cat tongues, all the while sticking pins in a small, stuffed likeness of the store manager.

3) A friend of mine just bought a bicycle, probably because he had to sell his youngest son to the Nike factory in order to fill the tank on his Kia. HIS DAMN KIA! Anyway, before he bought the bike, the local bike shop made him take a class on proper bicycle hand signals, for turning, stopping, and pointing out to other motorists where his pelvis is after he’s run down by a FedEx truck. Anyway, what good is it for the bikers to know the signals if none of the *drivers* do? Some dude on a Schwinn can stick his left hand out all he wants—I don’t know whether to high five him or give him change for a $10. Either way, I hope I can get a new pair of running shoes out of it.

4) Again with the running—because I’m basically Forrest Gump. On long runs, I try to go through neighborhoods with a lot of reconstruction because, yeah, I need the Porta-Potty. Now I wasn’t very good at Spanish in high school (“The cow has a beard” is not a super-helpful phrase) but I can recognize the word for “mother” and the word for “whore”, and I’ve found that both of them are scrawled pretty frequently on the Porta-Walls. There’s also frequent reference to a woman named Maria, as well as some diagrams that—if anatomically correct—make her look like she’s packing a trash compactor between her legs. I’m also willing to bet that in several instances, the words “mother”, “Maria”, and “whore” may reference the same woman.

Another bathroom story…driving home from Charlie Goodnight’s last week after a show best described as a big ball of suck, I stopped at an Exxon station to pee. When I have to go, I don’t even pretend to be a customer. Some people will linger in there, acting like they’re debating the merits of Slim Jims vs. Combos or wondering why a large box of condoms is known as “Family Size” before they eventually sneak off to the restrooms. Not this kid. Anyway, there was a line at the ladies’ and my bladder was about to break a levee of its own so I ducked into the men’s room. Um, nasty. I’m pretty sure Typhoid Mary’s kitchen was higher on the hygiene scale than this I-40 gem. Anyway, some misguided patriot had taken it upon himself to edit the condom dispenser by scratching out the word “French” and christening them the “Freedom Tickler”. Granted, the glory of his act was somewhat negated by the fact that he spelled it “Freedum”, but whatever. Ten bucks says it was Toby Keith.

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