How Did I Get Here?

Quote of the Day: “LIFE IS AT ITS BEST WHEN ITS SHAKEN AND STIRRED.”

This morning started with me being an idiot.

I heard that and NO, it was not an AVERAGE morning, thank you very much.

Last night, I set my alarm. I did not ENABLE the alarm function but I set it for 0630, by skippy!!

So I look up to see an amber 7:14 staring back at me and I was supposed to meet the guys at 0730. Well shit twice and call me Mary.

Marty’s wife’s grandmother passed away so he had to take off this morning. Travis was called last night and told to high-tail it down here, a five-hour drive, to take his place so he got in about 0330. I guess I was having a better morning than he was. It took 20 ounces of love (strong coffee) to get his head screwed back on straight but he stepped up to the plate admirably. Although he petered out later on when I invited him to join me for dinner.

Kids.

I made plans to spend the evening with Brent Norquist who is going to be the Marine Corps’ newest Lieutenant Colonel tomorrow. He was one of the Four Horsemen in my very famous stories about marathon running. To recap, he took too many power gels that first year and end up blowing butt-mud like a slot machine hitting the big payout. I’m sure that he appreciates me mentioning this ONCE again so to counter that, I will point out my deepest respect or this Marine who, after tomorrow, will have gone from “cook to Colonel,” referencing his ascention from enlisted cook to where he is now.

I stopped my the convenience store to get him some man-flowers (6-pack of Coors Light), get his two girls a pack of Lik-M-Stiks each, and then shot over to the commissary to get Melissa a boquette of flowers. Hey, I might be a creiton but I know how to be a presentable dinner guest.

They fed me a BBQ’ed pork roast, some of the best-tasting pasta I had ever put in my mouth, green peas, salad and beer. And I should not like these people because WHY?

We had a good time going over past stories we’ve recounted many dozens of times and once again, I felt priveliged to be in the company of truly wonderful people.

But then Brent made me work for my dinner. It seems they put a water-proof fouton out on the back porch. Well, it wasn’t eactly water-PROOF but maybe leaning more towards water-RESISTENT.

In other words, it got jacked by recent rain and he needed help getting it to the curb for the trashmen.

Brent unzipped the cover because he wanted to save it and you can imagine what it was like inside.

No, no you can’t.

I said that it looked like a dead, bloated fat woman in various states of decomposition.

It smelled worse.

He zipped it back up with the suddenly good idea that we should just haul it out and removed the cover at the curb. (Why he even considered keeping it after the horror we saw inside is beyond me but he was practically a LtCol so who am I to judge?)

It looked disturbingly similar to two guys hauling a dead body. A dead body of a very fat person.

The damn thing weighed a metric butt-ton and not only was it hard to grip, but the cover seemed to be as good at keeping the putrid water in as it was at keeping it out. I had my coveted Mariner’s jersey on and the Hell’s Brew that was akin to Satin’s taint sweat was running all down my arm.

We finally lugged it to the curb and managed to remove the cover. Again, I caught site of the rotting, soaking mattress and it was all I could do to keep the fine meal I had just been fed from glistening on the moonlit street.

When I got inside, you would think I was about to go into surgery. I scrubbed all the way up both arms and still didn’t trust them enough to give them a sniff afterwards.

Later on, I helped Brent take some cardboard boxes to the curb (I know, working me like a $2 whore!) and as I laid down a piece of cardboard, my hand unintentionally dipped into a small puddle of water. I just knew instantly what it was: the mattress was draining and I had just reinfected myself.

Son-of-a-BITCH!!!

scrub scrub scrub scrub…..

I’m such a damn princess.

Free Advice for Today: “In verbal confrontation, lower your voice to the degree that the other person raises his or hers.”

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 31st, 2005 at 10:27 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.