2005-04-28 - 6:55 a.m.
Have you ever had the song Freebird stuck in your head? It sucks, because it's a really long song.
I got an e-mail from a friend today, who is feeling "Blah", as she describes it. I find that I identify with the feeling - I too am feeling Blah. Actually, I think I'm more Bleh than Blah. Yeah, definitely Bleh.
I can't put a finger on the reason, but does it really matter? I think Bleh doesn't even need a reason - it's like poo - it just exists and no one really likes it.
Part of the reason might be this: I spend more time in my car with two (relative) strangers, Monday through Friday, than I do with my wife and children. There’s something seriously wrong with that.
Speaking of wives and children...masturbation comes to mind. (How's that for random?)
I was in Bosnia and a group of "us" were sitting around talking about that ancient Hawaiian disease, Lak-a-nookie. I said that I found the best way to deal with it was to buy a nice, ripe cantaloupe, drill a hole in it, microwave it for 30 seconds, and then go to town. Oh, don't forget to make an additional smaller hole to release suction.
I was kidding, of course.
Well, a couple of the girls thought it was pretty funny and they just happened to have this watermelon with a large rotten spot on it. So, they drew a face on the watermelon, with the mouth around the rotten spot, and brought it into work.
They gave me my "girlfriend" and said her name was Lucy. I placed Lucy on top of one of the bookcases in my area and there she sat for all to look upon. If anyone looked too long, especially another guy, I was sure to stand up and defend our love.
One day the boss came in and admired Lucy and then leaned up against the bookcase. He started talking about something crazy (he was a very animated guy) and bumping the bookcase. The next thing we know, Lucy tips and rolls off the edge.
I remember it like it was just three years ago - I saw her fall in slow motion, her Sharpie marker eyes pleading with me to save her. She hit the floor with a "POP" and exploded - like a rotten watermelon.
I couldn't believe it. The only thing I could do was look at the boss and ask, "Why?" Later, I used his picture to make WANTED posters; he was wanted for the unnecessary slaying of an innocent watermelon. The bastard.
We couldn't get the smell of rotten watermelon out of that room for weeks.
