Here’s how my yesterday began:
As usual, my Tuesday chore is a grocery-shopping excursion to Royal. Traffic was heavier than normal, and then the reason why was revealed:
With the cabinets restocked for another week, I took it easy around the house while awaiting the arrival of beer o’clock. When it came, Swan and I headed out to Baloy Beach for our Tuesday relaxation on the Kokomo floating bar.
As we neared the beach, Swan commented on how nice the breeze felt on this ungodly hot day. In my mind, I was thinking about the combination of wind and water. And sure enough, the bay was as choppy as I’ve seen it.
There was no music playing when we arrived and when I inquired as to why, they said the Wi-Fi was out. I volunteered to connect my Spotify to the music box, and they agreed. So, no complaints about the songs or volume this visit.
Shortly before we departed, another customer boarded with his girlfriend and sat across the bar from us. A little later, he called out to me, asking if I was an Aussie. I jokingly responded, why are you insulting me? He laughed and said, “Good, I hate Aussies.” But when he found out I was a Yank, he went into a semi-serious tirade about how we started a war rather than pay our taxes. I responded that you should have given us representation in Parliament then. He went on griping about George Washington being a crappy general, but I couldn’t really hear what he was saying. Then he started in about us invading Canada in 1812 and starting another war. Well, I could have gone off on the shit the Brits were doing, like the forced impression of Americans in the British Navy, but I was growing weary of the pointless debate. Instead, I fired up one of my favorite Johnny Horton tunes–The Battle of New Orleans. That shut him up.
In 1814 we took a little trip
Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip
We took a little bacon and we took a little beans
And we caught the bloody British in the town of New Orleans
We fired our guns and the British kept a-comin'
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago
We fired once more and they began to runnin'
On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico
We looked down the river and we seen the British come
And there must have been a hunnerd of 'em beatin on the drum
They stepped so high and they made their bugles ring
We stood beside our cotton bales 'n' didn't say a thing
We fired our guns and the British kept a-comin'
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago
We fired once more and they began to runnin'
On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico
Old Hickory said we could take 'em by surprise
If we didn't fire our muskets till we looked 'em in the eye
We held our fire 'till we seed their faces well
Then we opened up the squirrel guns and really gave em
Well we
Fired our guns and the British kept a-comin'
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago
We fired once more and they began to runnin'
On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico
Yeah they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles
And they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn't go
They ran so fast that the hounds couldn't catch 'em
On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico
We fired our cannon till the barrel melted down
So we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round
We filled his head with cannonballs and powered his behind
And when we touched the powder off the gator lost his mind
We fired our guns and the British kept a-comin'
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago
We fired once more and they began to runnin'
On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico
Yeah they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles
And they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn't go
They ran so fast that the hounds couldn't catch 'em
On down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico
After rockin’ it on the floater, we headed ashore for dinner at DaKudos.
My Aussie pal Steve lives on Baloy, and as he drove by, he saw us at DaKudos. So he and his gal Viola dropped in to join us for a nightcap.
Not bad for a Tuesday.
Facebook had some more scamdemic memories for me today:
And then there was this memory from a lifetime ago:
As long as we are looking backwards, let’s do the Quora Q&A thing:
Q: Where should I look for something I lost in the house? I can’t remember where I put my extra phone.
A: It’s always the last place you look.
Yeah, that’s a golden oldie. Sorry ’bout that.
Maybe this humor is fresher:
Okay, enough of this nonsense. I’ve got the rest of Wednesday to attend to. Dog-willing, I’ll be back tomorrow.
That’s high, even by my low standards.
$385 a week???? Good Christ, your groceries cost as much as a mortgage! (A mortgage back in the 1990s, anyway.)
A roast chicken salad for me
If it’s going to be called a “salad,” the veggies ought to be cut thin and fork-friendly. I’ve taken to cutting down the green leaves in the salads I eat; Paris Baguette, the local bakery chain, serves salads but never cuts the leaves down. This means the top-layer leaves shield the lower layers from the dressing, which only ever sits on top of the salad, never penetrating. But when I cut the leaves down to size and toss, the dressing mixes in nicely. No more problem. It’s just too bad I have to do the cutting myself.
Yes, I mentioned “tossing salad” and “penetrating.”
At the Army Ball with Jee Yeun. It still hurts.
Then drag your ass to Korea and convince that woman to give you a divorce! Why live in agony? Amputate! Then move on. Don’t leave little hanging, dragging bits of your life all over the place. It’s unseemly. And I just don’t get the passivity. It’s going to get you in trouble eventually, and your life is a lie in the meantime.
Kev, $385. is unusually high. It is normally closer to $300. My budget for groceries is $250. So many mouths to feed!
I agree that a salad should only require a fork to consume. I don’t cut; I just open wide and stuff it in. You’re right, though; there is no dressing on the bottom that way.
It’s the memory of what I had and lost that hurts. I only think about the marriage part at tax time–she’s a nice deduction.