At this stage of my life I’ve practically given up on the idea of being wildly successful in a career, or of winning the lottery. Instead I’m pursuing an equally elusive goal, affordable siding and energy-efficient windows for our home. Oh…and I’m really (really) dreaming of those cool windows that “tip in” towards me so I can wash our second story windows from the safety of standing inside of our bedroom rather than on an aluminum ladder fifteen feet above my cool ass rock garden. You never think that a rock garden is a bad idea until you’re at a sufficient height above it for it to kill you if you were to fall onto it. This is where having a dog would’ve come in handy. If I would’ve had a dog I wouldn’t have the time to wash some crummy windows on the second story of our house, I’d be playing “fetch” with it, or walking it, or training it to do some real cool trick…like washing windows.
I’m turning my attention to a new subject, just giving you a heads up or this won’t make any sense (like that’s ever stopped me).
If a place of business has the term “SUPERSTORE” in its name, it’d darn well better be “super” as a minimum, and maybe even spectacular on their best days. It shouldn’t be selling used Chevy’s, leather sofas or office equipment. It should be staffed by leprechaun’s, space aliens and former Hollywood child stars. There should be clowns swinging from trapeze, a unicorn petting zoo & 25 cent hot dogs. Monster trucks, money printing presses and the cool ass utility belt that Batman wears…is sold there. That is a SUPERSTORE.
An alert reader of my second blog, who I’ll call “Lester” to protect his identity, stated that I’d forgotten “adventure” as one of “life’s mid-life fillers”…to go along with getting a girlfriend, motorcycle, etc…My reply to Lester is this…you’ve never taught 3 fourteen year old daughters to drive…Lester…so get off my back man! Lester climbs mountains for adventure; I put my life into the hands of a 14-year-old who doesn’t like to signal her lane changes prior to pulling in front of a semi. It’s all good. Someday Lester will have to teach his two boys to drive. Lester will learn to steady his nerves with a stiff drink after an hour in the passenger’s seat of his son’s driving. Lester will learn to contort his body so it’ll fit under the dash while he squeals for mercy “slow down…slow down…fortheloveofGODSLOWDOWNBOY!!! THAT WAS A COP YOU JUST PASSED!!!
It’s just not a “drive” unless you’ve taught ’em how to spray loose gravel with the back tires, take a corner on two wheels and burn up a tank full of gas on a Saturday night….just drivin’ around town.
Lester…I’ve had my fill of “adventure”.