August 6, 2007

-- Saturday was so hot here, we barely moved. It was a disgusting day, really, with loads of inactivity and becoming one with various seating solutions. I hate that, but couldn’t muster enough energy to free myself from the bonds of heat-induced laziness.

I did manage to take the oldest Secret out to lunch, to the Chinese buffet. Occasionally Toney and I like to split up and spend a little one-on-one time with each of the boys, and that’s what we did on Saturday afternoon. 

I’m convinced they flick uneaten shrimp right back onto the hot table at this so-called buffet, but the Secret doesn’t seem to mind. He loves the House of Reused Crustaceans, so that’s where we went. And I ordered off the menu.

Our propane tank was empty, and I’d meant to bring it along, to have it filled. But I forgot and this caused me to growl like a dog. The restaurant is in the general vicinity of the Big White Tank, you see. And that meant we’d have to drive all the way home, get it, then drive right back to where we’d been. Highly irritating.

I’ve been on a strong Fountains of Wayne jag over the past few days, and blasted their first two CDs in a continuous loop all weekend. 

The Secrets, who are intimately familiar with the newer FoW albums, said they didn’t really like the old ones. Until they heard them two or three times, that is. Now they’re walking around singing the songs, and can’t do a damn thing about it. During all the unnecessary propane driving, the oldest Secret became fully possessed by power-pop, the likes of which no exorcist can touch. Oh yeah.

At the U-Haul place where I get my tanks filled, a guy who looked like a general infantryman in Saddam’s Republican Guard took care of my problem, then asked for almost eighteen bucks in return. Shit! It used to cost $7.50 to buy propane, now it’s approaching triple that price. I wished I had some political axe to grind, so I could start throwing around blame, all willy-nilly.

While we were driving home I was informed that the oldest Secret, as well as Sayid, had seen my “crack,” when I bent over to pick up the tank. And he thought this was a laugh riot. …See why these father-son bonding experiences are so important?

Late in the afternoon Toney said she had to go to the store to buy something she needed for that night’s dinner, and I volunteered to ride along. I was afraid my skin was starting to become interwoven with the upholstery of the living room couch.

While we were out I suggested we stop at Jim Dandy’s for a pre-dinner adult beverage, and she agreed. But nobody was at the bar, and there was no bartender either. The hell, man? We sat down and waited for about five minutes, but felt like douchebags perched up on those tall chairs, all alone. So we went home.

And that, along with roughly six or seven episodes of Drake & Josh, was the extent of my Saturday achievements.

-- On Sunday the oldest Secret, aka “the crack-spotter,” went to a water park with one of his friends’ family. And I promised to take the younger boy to a driving range. He’s interested in golf all of a sudden, and I’m trying to encourage it…

But hell, I wanted to play too. What was I going to do, just stand around and watch like grandpa hooked up to a lung machine? I don’t think so. But I don’t have any clubs. I used to have clubs, but I think Toney sold them during a yard sale in California.

She suggested I reverse the process, and try to BUY a driver at a yard sale. But I needed one today. “Hey, what about the flea market?” I hollered. And Toney agreed it was worth a shot.

I’d never been to this particular jamboree of white trash culture. It’s held every weekend at a local drive-in theater, but I don’t really go in for such things. On the other hand, once I’m there I do sometimes enjoy myself.

Here are a few pictures I snapped while walking around that place, and I would’ve gotten more if most of the vendors hadn’t looked like they’d spent considerable time “on the yard” at various federal penitentiaries. I couldn’t risk pissing anyone off.

I saw an adult retarded man with a mouthful of teeth, each a different size and color, grooving to 50s music blaring from a public address system. And I spotted an old man wearing a neck brace and some sort of radical torso apparatus, walking while bent straight forward at a 90 degree angle. And some man who looked like he needed to hurt something, had a large table filled, simply filled, with cereal and toothpaste. WTS?! 

But there wasn’t a single golf club in the house. Plenty of elongated Pepsi bottles with blue water inside, but no clubs.

We then went to Five Guys for lunch, and I just can’t figure it out. Why are their burgers so good? Seriously, what do they do that’s so radically different? It’s baffling. But those things are just about the best goddamn hamburgers I’ve ever eaten. And mister, I’ve eaten plenty.

Then it was off to Wal-Mart, to see if we might happen upon a cheap-ass driver there. No dice, they were all sixty dollars or more, which isn’t going to happen in this lifetime or the next.

So we just threw in the towel and went to the driving range. Screw it, I’d just watch, and try to get a driver at the next “multi-family” yard sale. In our neighborhood I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long.

But the driving range was closed. There was a sign that said Open Seven Days, 10:30 to 6:00, but there was a chain across the driveway, and nobody was around. It reminded me of that Steven Wright joke: open 24 hours, but not in a row.

What the hell, man? This day was starting to eat it from the ass-in. What were we going to do now? I didn’t want to go home and watch Josh Peck again. In fact, I didn’t want to go home, period. I’d had enough of that crapola.

So we went to the actual dairy farm where the products sold at our favorite ice cream shop are made. Yes, you read that correctly. They supposedly have an ice cream counter there, as well, right on the farm itself.

And you simply haven’t lived until you’ve walked around smelling the shit of the very cows responsible for the delicious dairy dessert you’re enjoying right this minute. They claim the ice cream they sell today, was very likely still in the cow yesterday. The whole thing is a bit disconcerting, if you want to know the truth... But kinda cool.

Now you’re completely up to date on our exciting weekend. What did you do? Use the comments link to tell us all about it, won’t you?

And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.

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