When I got out of bed this afternoon, I was still dealing with some lingering effects from last night. $4 pitchers at Drinks Saloon - need I say more? So the standard routine commenced. First, water. Lots of water. Second, Advil. Lots of Advil. Third, food. Lots of food. Once I got myself sorted out and started to shake off the cobwebs a little bit, I seemed to remember a song that I heard at the bar last night. It was basically a compilation of every redneck stereotype about the people who live in the redneck town that I now call home. I couldn't say for sure that the song actually existed. Maybe it was just the subject of a drunken dream or something. But, I might as well check. Yep. It exists.
The funny thing is that, in quite a few neighborhoods around here, nothing in that song would be considered an insult.
Satisfied that I was no longer too intoxicated to drive, having slept for a solid ten hours, I headed out to run some errands. That was all well enough I suppose. Then some dinner and bowling with a friend of mine. (181, 177, and 158 in three games with a house ball and rented shoes. Not too shabby.) Then back home to watch some hockey and baseball.
Tomorrow actually looks to be one where I'll have to be an adult for a while, so we're holding off on finishing the beers in the fridge. I'm going back to work on Monday, so I need to have my affairs in order before heading to Indiana this weekend. I have things planned for most of the day Thursday, leaving tomorrow as the last good chance to be productive. As long as I can get my laundry done in the morning and some shopping done in the afternoon, I should be in decent shape.
Then there's one of those situations where I'm quite inexperienced and not terribly comfortable, but I know that there are certain expectations. A close friend of mine lost his mother this weekend. All I know so far is that the family has requested no flowers. Beyond that, I'm pretty much clueless as to the usual protocol. When it comes to funerals and related matters, I've always taken direction from whichever lady had the misfortune of being attached to me at the time. Flying solo these days though. We'll see how it goes. According to the eye doctors, Mrs. Pedro was legally blind for the last several years. She always told me that I was handsome though, every time I visited her home, so I'm pretty sure her eyesight was just fine. After a sequence of medical misfortunes in recent months, it sounds like she and God just decided that the time was right to move on. Nearly 101 years on this earth is a pretty impressive run in any case.
If there is an option of taking the vacant urinal next to me or the next one over, you better leave the space. If we were women instead of men, we could all go potty together.
ReplyDeleteIn an unrealed matter, I'm sorry for your loss. Who will stroke your male ego now??
There is never a shortage of lasses who will tell a guy what he wants to hear. The difference when it came to the dear departed was that she was sincere.
ReplyDeleteThat poll question was inspired by a pit stop along I-75 on my way home last weekend. Apparently someone decided to host a town hall meeting in the pisser or something. Plenty of folks yucking it up, so I thought maybe my strong silent approach was a thing of the past.
First of all, sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteMan the Redneck theme in Detroit is absolutely hilarious to me! I am just having trouble picturing a group of redneck boys with northern accents. I have been all over this country and have met a lot of people who resemble rednecks, but the true blue ones have only been found south of the mason dixon.
I gotta a good laugh from the song!
Safe Travels.
Oh, make no mistake about it. At least 1/3 of the people in this town have accents that would make you southern guys sound like you fought on Lincoln's side. There's no explanation for it. Just one of those things. (I would be remiss if I failed to note that I've known some lovely gals who wore John Deere hats before.)
ReplyDeleteThanks for the condolences. Nobody (friends, family, etc.) seems terribly distraught about Mrs. Pedro's death, so that made things a little less uncomfortable. She lived to be 100 years old, prayed frequently, always had a kind word for anyone, and gave every penny that she ever had to charity. For people who believe in that sort of thing, we know she's doing just fine now. For people who don't believe in that sort of thing, they still can smile and know that she lived a full life.