It’s quiet at night in Southern Missouri. Dark, too. Streetlights don’t exist past the limits of the small towns connected by Highway 60 and a home-based nightlight glows bright in most driveways of the houses tucked back off the road.
But it’s light out when we head down to Southern, MO, plenty well-lit to see road-killed armadillo after road-killed armadillo littering the shoulder of every highway from Kansas City to Mountain View. Every year we begin to see the dead animals at a point further north then the year before.
Heading to our first baby shower, given to us by my mom’s family. They’re awful generous and we shouldn’t have to buy any clothes for a year.
The shower ends and we take a nap and night descends and darkness comes and quiet too and we enjoy the lack of sirens and gun shots and mewing cats and barking dogs and we sleep.
And we wake and head to Springfield for a breakfast date with my old friends Pat (and his wife) and Jay Feagans and Pat and Rosie’s new baby, Goldie, who is a doll and quite well-behaved and I can send a photo to those who know and would like to see Patty’s baby girl since he’s an e-mail-a-phobe and can’t get his e-mail to work right.
We get home and we sleep again.
And we watch the Who’s the Boss? and Charles in Charge True Hollywood Story and we sleep again.
Now it’s Monday and I’m working on something very cool that I hope to share with you soon.
Also, in an effort to help out Gimp’s promotions, go see MC Frontalot:
And I’ve got a spoiler for all of you.
If you don’t want to know the true secret of the DaVinci Code, please stop reading now.
If you don’t want to know information so mind-numbing, paradigm-shifting, bowel-releasing, faith-shattering and finger-licking that God himself has banned from on high, please stop reading now.
If you can’t handle the Truth, in whatever form it may take, please stop reading now.
People everywhere, I am going to save you $8 on a movie and 3 hours of life wasted reading terrible literature.
People everywhere, I will now unveil to you the True Secret of the DaVinci Code!:
The True Secret is:
Wait for it:
Wait for it:
THE TRUE SECRET OF THE DAVINCI CODE IS!:
Jesus and Mary shared popsicles.
This morning, I planned to direct you all to healthykids.com because my niece is featured as Kid of the Day but you have to be a member in order to see the damned thing.
I hate signing up for content. (Notice I didn’t even hyperlink.) In an effort to circumvent you having to sign up, here’s a screenshot of the little monkey:
Time, time, time. I was studying for my Security+ cert, listening to Underworld and remembering living with Ry and Tony in Lawrence and this crazy friend of theirs from high school, Jenny Somethingorother, pretty much crashed at our house for a week or so and one night she went to an Underworld show at the Granada and this must’ve been about the time they released Beaucoup Fish and I’m listening to Underworld remembering the time I first heard Beaucoup Fish and it wasn’t because of Jenny Somethingorother, it was during the year I lived in Springfield and went to SMSU and the time between now and then flashes through my mind and I’m remembering times at The Bait Shack in Westport and playing disc golf all over the metro and I’m remembering that I’ve lived like a bubble that floats from here to there, changing where I live every year or so for a good ten years, enjoying the days and the friends along the way but never much thinking about what I should be doing in the present to secure the future because I have a hard time thinking along those lines and also remembering that I’ve never sat down with myself to discuss what it is I want or need from this life in order to be fulfilled because a bubble is filled from the inside and that’s what gives it its buoyancy but it’s filled with air and that’s what gives it its capriciousness and it’s all held together by a thin film wall and that’s what keeps that buoyant filling from mingling with the outside and that’s what makes a bubble so fascinating, that and the fact that they never last – otherwise you have a ball on your hands and a ball has weight and a predictable trajectory and when a ball pops the air inside comes out rank and stale and if it doesn’t pop it just goes flat and lifeless, unless it’s a golf ball. Those just end up getting lost before their time.
I dreamed last night that TKC was doing a series of video projects for his site and he asked me to help him on his latest one: trying to reform hookers working behind the Sonic on Southwest Boulevard and Rainbow. Tony and I rolled up to the Sonic and then parked a ways away. This was “the spot” and the hookers knew that cars parking in this manner were piloted by drivers hot for a genuine KC ho.
So we park.
And we wait.
And TKC’s like, “Where’re these hookers?”
And I point to a strung-out, skinny white lady in a tank top and biker shorts. “There, dude.”
But she gets into another car.
Finally, a heavy-set black girl spots us and heads our way.
“Get the camera rolling!” Tony says.
And that’s where my dream logic meets my real logic and I think to myself, How exactly are we going to approach this Reformation?
HOOKER:Â HEY BOYS, LOOKING FOR A GOOD TIME?
TKC:Â WE’RE LOOKING TO GET YOU OFF THE STREETS AND INTO COMMUNITY COLLEGE!
ME:Â AND MAKE A DOCUMENTARY FOR IFC!
HOOKER:Â THE FUCK YOU SAY.
And thinking about that wakes me up.
And Karate and Kung Fu are bouncing all around the room.
Maybe they had a dream about being de-clawed.