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.
--
Well, so far there's been no obvious consequences from us guzzling turds
all weekend. As far as we know the town is still under a "boil
alert," and we're not supposed to drink the water unless it's been
heated to a degree high enough to kill-off the shit spores. And that's
fine, but it would've been nice to know about all this before three
full days had passed. Ya know?
Last night at ten o'clock the phone rang and I wasn't able to get to it
before the answering machine kicked in. (I happened to be reading Entertainment
Weekly, thank you very much.) It was a recorded message updating us
on the state of the water main break that's been causing all the
problems.
Supposedly repairs have been made, and everything will be back to normal
soon. By Wednesday, the over-amplified person said, all customers will
have water service again, and local businesses should be able to
re-open.
I'm not certain, because the message was so loud and distorted, but near
the end I think she said, "Our dark, dark Dunkin Donuts days are
almost over, comrades." But, again, I'm not sure I heard it
correctly.
-- I've mentioned before how Toney and I operate on two different
schedules. She likes to go to bed early and get up early, and I prefer
to go to bed late and get up late. Of course, during the week I'm forced
to curb my natural inclinations and climb atop the dormancy platform
much earlier than I'd like, so I'm able to drag my over-caffeinated ass
into the bunker and tap out these ridiculous dispatches. But it's not
how I'd do things if given a choice.
And by "late" I don't mean that I get up on weekends at noon,
or anything like that. I'm almost always out of the sack by 9:30. But
Toney and the boys are usually three hours into it by then, and it
sometimes causes "issues."
This past Sunday for instance.... I got up and was having a piping hot
mug of diluted feces and flipping through the newspaper. I saw that both
Circuit City and Best Buy will be selling the new two-disc Oasis
compilation for the crazy-low price of $9.99, and was making a
mental note to go buy that bitch before we leave for West Virginia --
when I noticed that Toney was putting on her shoes.
I asked her what she was doing, and she
said she was going to rake leaves in the front yard.
What?! I'd just gotten up, I didn't feel like dealing with that crapola
yet. No, I need to eeeease into the day. What in the fluff 'n'
fold hell??
"I didn't say you had to do it," she answered, "I said I
was going to do it."
Grrrr.... I sat there for a few more minutes, a-sipping and a-flipping,
until the guilt became too great, and I finally went downstairs and
jerked on a pair of jeans. When I went outside Toney remarked again that
she didn't expect me to help, she just needed to get out of the house
for a while. "Noted," I said, all pissy like a teenage girl.
Then I proceeded to rake like a mental patient for the next hour,
looking stoically into the distance and saying nothing. It was very
important, after all, that this job be done right now, and the
fact that it was practically the middle of the night clearly didn't
enter into it.
Then it started raining, and the rain turned to ice. But I wouldn't stop
raking. It had to be done. I continued on with a determined
expression, in a driving ice storm, and didn't quit until the entire
front yard was leaf-free. Neighbors were doing double-takes in their
cars, and I saw at least one bust out laughing. But this was highly
important.
When I finally went back inside my hair was a solid dome of ice, and I
was soaked clean through my underwear. Toney was standing in the
kitchen, casually munching a still-hot blueberry muffin, and never even
acknowledged my pitiful state. She just asked if I had any preferences
for lunch, and said nothing about my rain-soaked clothing or the polar
ice cap on top of my head.
I'd seen her do this many times before with the kids, and always admired
it. But with me? Yeah, I didn't much care for it.
-- Since Christmas is right around the corner, I've been doing a little
work on the side to make extra money. Be careful where you click this,
because it's not really safe for work, but it shows how I'm insuring
that Christmas will be extra-memorable this year at the Compound. I do
it for the children.
Oh, and the moustache? That's fake, I keep it in the glove compartment
of my car. One of the artists in that class is the youngest Secret's
Sunday School teacher, and I don't want her to recognize me.
-- Of course I'm joking about all that, but I'm not joking about this:
Yesterday I received an email from a man who's writing a textbook
"to be published in Japan for students of contemporary English and
American culture." He's using entries from thirty American "bloggers"
as examples, and wants to feature pieces from TheWVSR(!). "We hope
to show the Japanese reader a view of ordinary life in the USAEnglish-speaking
countries and the use of English in everyday circumstances," he
writes.
Needless to say, I'll be extending my heartfelt permission. Because
America has no better ambassador than me wallowing around in Scranton.
I forwarded the email to my friend Tim yesterday, and here's part of his
reply:
Wow! Using the life of Jeff Kay
to bridge international ties between the United States and Japan. You
can go ahead and wake me up now.
(AP) Tokyo-- In a stunning moment in
international relations, the Japanese Prime Minister showed an unusual
amount of sarcasm in the midst of treaty negotiations with North Korea,
going so far as to ask Kim Jong-Il to pull his finger.
-- And I really need to go to
work now.... Black Friday (so-called) will be here in a few days, and
the whole world will be locked into a full-on shopping frenzy. If you
find yourself falling under the influence, I'd be much obliged if you
could remember our Amazon links here. By entering the Amazon site
through one of our ads, then buying a ridiculous amount of
products, you'll be supporting our efforts here at TheWVSR -- and it
won't cost you one extra cent. Everybody wins!
So, don't forget us, OK? And if the ads don't show up on your computer
for some reason, here's yer
link
. I appreciate it!
-- Before I go, I have a question for you. Earlier this morning I was
blasting Rum,
Sodomy, & the Lash by the Pogues. That, of course, is one of
my favorite album titles; I believe it's a phrase lifted from a speech
by Winston Churchill. (What the speech was about, I can't imagine.) What
are some of your favorite album titles? I need to know, with a great
urgency. Use the comments link below.
And I'll be back early tomorrow morning with a quick little piss-ant
update.
--
Well, so far there's been no obvious consequences from us guzzling turds
all weekend. As far as we know the town is still under a "boil
alert," and we're not supposed to drink the water unless it's been
heated to a degree high enough to kill-off the shit spores. And that's
fine, but it would've been nice to know about all this before three
full days had passed. Ya know?
. I appreciate it!