Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--I believe I’m on the mend here.Oh,
I’m still a tad phlegmigated,
but I feel roughly 1000% better than Monday, and even better than
Tuesday when I put the number at 500%.In
fact, just as quickly as the illness descended, it departed.Usually it doesn’t work that way.Ya know?
In any case, it looks like we’re all in luck.Pretty soon I’ll be completely better, and you guys won’t
have to put up with my whining anymore.About
that, anyway.
--My music plans for the day:the complete Steely Dan box set. Then the entire Police box.Then whatever I feel like.Just
wanted to put my cards on the table…
--And speaking of music, I went
to an actual record store yesterday, and bought a CD at full retail
price on its release date.It felt
like the 1980s again.
Except, of course, I had a harder time wedging my heft through the
turnstile by the front door, and almost turned over a rack of
“bawdy” greeting cards with my starboard love handle.
And the “you may approach the throne” kid behind the counter failed
to treat me like a contemporary; he didn’t say “thanks man,” or
anything of the sort.No, he acted
like I was one of his teachers, or his pastor, or his Dad’s insurance
agent.
And he didn’t turn up his nose in distaste at the music I was buying;
he just rang it up and handed me the bag, as if there wasn’t even an
expectation of coolness.
Plus, I took one look at his comically-oversized sideburns and thought:wotta hi-flo douche nozzle.What
is this, Buffalo Springfield?
Other than that, though, it was just like old times.….I’m sorry, I’m getting a little emotional here.
--Since my employer restructured
my ass right out the back door, like yesterday’s Filet-O-Fish value
meal, I’ve been put in charge of taking the youngest Secret to school
every morning.Our older son takes
the bus to the middle school (aka Junior High), and Toney has a
part-time job now that requires her to leave the house at 7:30.
So, it’s up to me to get our youngest boy to class on time, which is
risky business, indeed.But, I’m
proud to announce: so far, so good.
The aides put down their bear claws or honeybuns and wipe the glaze off
their quivering lips around 8:15, before swinging open the doors.Then each parent waits inside their car until they’re within a
reasonable distance to the new opening in the side of the school.Their kid or kids finally jump out, and that parent makes way for
the next car.And so it goes.
Because
I have a reputation for running late all the time (something I protest,
by the way), I’ve been over-correcting and arriving at the school way
too early.So I get in line
behind the other over-correcting parents, and we wait for the honeybuns
to be polished-off, and the frankfurter fingers to be licked clean.
And a funny thing is happening….The
youngest Secret and I have started creating a big epic tale, featuring
all the other parents and kids and aides, and whatnot.We assign names and attach personalities, then put them into
“situations.”
We’ve got The Knitter, Gino Vanelli, the Turtle-Neck Warrior, Pitcher
Lip, High Neck (aka Tower Neck, Chimney Neck), Mrs. Puff, and a cast of
thousands.In this morning’s
adventure the Knitter almost died in a fiery crash when a large ball of
yarn got wedged beneath her brake pedal, and she went rocketing off a
cliff.
Intricately woven plots and sub-plots are starting to develop, and
characters are becoming fully fleshed-out people with opinions and
individual quirks.And the Secret
has no problem holding his own in the process; he’s good, real good.
I groaned when Toney gave me this assignment, but it’s turned out to
be the best part of each day.We’ve
got a full-blown Cecil B. DeMille Technicolor production of
insensitivity going on.And I’m
loving every minute of it.
--Before I turn it over to Brad
and the Question of the Day, I need a little input from you folks.
What do you think about an army green Surf Report t-shirt this time
around?I think it would be pretty
cool, but sometimes my opinions don’t exactly jive with the rest of
the world’s.So, what do you
think about that?Please let me
know.
According to this poll I’m going to have to stock every size of shirt
known to man.I still find it hard
to believe there are adults out there who wear a small, but whatever.If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.Heck, I can probably save postage by mailing it in a regular
business-sized envelope.
Anyway, let me know about the color.If
it sounds good to everyone, I’ll call the T-Shirt Lady and start the
proverbial ball to rolling.
--Now here’s something new and
extra-good from Brad.Don’t
miss it, it's even better than last week’s installment.
--I’ll leave you now with the
Question of the Day….This
one’s specifically for people who are married, or currently living
with someone, I guess.
And I’d like to know if you have stuff sitting around your house that
a former boyfriend or girlfriend gave you?In my case, I have a ceramic piggy bank that an ex named Kelly
gave me, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth.And there’s a big magnet on our refrigerator of an old 1950s
car, that Sharon bought in Atlanta.And there’s probably other stuff as well, that I’m not
remembering.
What about you?Do you have
Trinkets from an Ex at your place?And
does your current Significant Other have a problem with any it?Has it ever caused any problems?
Toney’s not the jealous type, but some of my previous girlfriends
would’ve tossed that stuff into the trash years ago.You got anything to report on this subject?If so, use the comments link below.
