It's really hard for Val to provide you people with a daily dose of entertainment when the rain comes between Val and her satellite dish. Well. It doesn't exactly come between Val and her satellite dish, because that would mean the rain was falling inside the house. So it must come between Val's satellite dish and the blogosphere.
I had planned to show you two new photos from the Fishing lair, Hick's newest shanty. But those pictures don't want to get wet coming out of the email to be stored on my New Delly. So instead, I'll continue with a Pony tale. Make it a trilogy this week.
Tonight, The Pony and Hick were heading out to meet with a college recruiter from the University of Oklahoma. The Pony might discover that he'd just as soon be a Sooner as live in my basement and have me drive him to junior college every day. You know. When I'm RETIRED next fall.
The meeting was being held in a restaurant at Union Station. A whole slew of regional National Merit Semifinalists must have gotten the invite. Hick told The Pony they could get there early, to walk around. "You've never been to Union Station. I'll take you by and show you the Hooter's that I took Genius to."
The Pony pretended to be mortified. As I had a few moments earlier, when he passed his fingernail clippings (he's going all-out to make a good impression on those college people) under my nose and dropped one on my morning-chair-nap afghan. Except MY mortification was not pretend. The Pony, laying on the long couch, squinted his eyes at Hick, and held out his hand, palm facing.
"Wait a minute! That's the YES hand!"
The Pony snickered. "I know."
In this case it was the "Hell Yes" hand.
ReplyDeleteThe Pony's right. He really DOESN'T need words to get his point across.
DeleteJoeh has to city it up. It's "hell to the yes!"
ReplyDeleteHick and Hooters and The Pony? That's going to be a wing-dang-doo of a story. What kind of "tips" do you think Hick could give to The Pony, when surrounded by all that boobage?
Thank you, Madam, for teaching Joe how to be "city." Maybe next time you can teach him the difference between alcohol and dirty water when it's served to him in Jersey.
DeleteSadly, Hooters petered out. The Pony said that either Hooters moved, or they were being remodeled, because they were roped off with that yellow kind-of-crime-scene tape.
I asked The Pony what he would do in Hooters, and he said, "LOOK!"
Dirty water cocktails? Hell to the NO!
DeleteWell actually sometimes yes, I just had to try out my newly learned city.
I couldn't get past the fingernail clippings. It reminded me of the time when I was cleaning Master Mac's bedroom and found a pile of what was either toenail clippings or rice in the corner (the dog didn't try to eat them so my guess is toenail clippings ...) - That was the same day I got half a discarded Easter Egg stuck on my foot (I know, SHOCKING - who on earth discards half an Easter Egg?).
ReplyDeleteAre the fingernail clippings, like my "feet," your Achilles heel? And who on earth comes to Val's foot-banning blog and tells her about half a discarded Easter egg stuck on her FOOT! Have you been getting advice from Madam one comment above?
DeleteI need some smelling salts. Or a dirty-water cocktail.
It's easy to see that you have at least four books in you.. one about Pony, one about Hick, one about your mother, one about you, and then, wait, how about five books, one to cover miscellaneous. Get on it.
ReplyDeleteFOUR BOOKS IN ME? No, I'm just pleasingly plump. But thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt! I'll get to booking as soon as time allows. Like when I RETIRE at the end of this school year.
DeleteI can't decide whether it's rusticity or domesticity.
ReplyDeleteIt's IDIOCY! That's what it is! Pure IDIOCY!
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