October 23, 2011
So my woman, Little Mouse the youthful beautiful vivaciously precocious poetess librarian couldn’t resist herself and snuck a peek at what I had been writing so far. The following actually took place late last night.
“You can’t write those things”
“Of course I ca…”
Seeing her mistake she quickly, sweetly, adjusted her argument
“You shouldn’t write those things…”
Let me interrupt real quick and explain that even though at this point this only my second blog I have a number of blogs written ahead of time. She had read about five of those. Okay sorry back to it-
“How do you know they’re true?”
“I just know. “ I chuckled condescendingly. “How do you know the sky is blue?”
“That’s different.” She argued unfazed by my blustering “If you are going to make the type of
claims you’re making you’ll need to cite your sources”
“Why the hell would I wanna do that?”
“So people know you’re not just making this up!”
The cute thing was she was serious.
“Honey no one is going to read this.”
“And if they do I just don’t give a f whether they believe me or not”
Little Mouse stared at me incredulously. Her librarian mind struggling to comprehend that I just didn’t care. Unable to wrap her lovely cataloguing literary mind around the concept she concluded I wasn’t really even being serious.
“Besides if I start citing my facts it will be too dry, booo-ing”
“Whatever, do what you want it’s your blog if you want to sound crazy…”
“Now ya got it!!”
“That way you can just make up all the “facts” you want”
She was already walking away.
I heard the door to her Grrrl cave close and what I assumed was a victory chortle.
Of course I said that under my breath. I may be a dysfunctional unit but I’m not a stupid one. Well no that’s not necessarily true, both my sometimes being a stupid machine and my not being afraid of mocking women a loud. That’ll come in future blogs. My comments on women and how they have ruined this once great manly country of ours will be coming soon; I won’t be able to help myself.
Don’t get me wrong I love women so try not to get your pretty little heads too worked up. Wait until you hear what I have to say before you call me a sexist misogynistic bastard; then get back in the kitchen and get my f-ing beer. No I’m just kidding…I don’t drink beer
This summer we spent many humid ass f-ing days at the local city pool floating around the Lazy River. Facing each other on separate tubes we locked our legs together and drifted for hours under the tropical heat of the northern sun. One 95 degree day, among the throng of dripping drifters, was a little girl; blowing an annoying nameless tune with tightly pursed lips through her ten year old clenched fist. Its opposition to the concept of our being on the Lazy River was not lost to many of the adult floaters, including Little Mouse and me.
Like us she rode around and around the small tweaked oval “river”. Eventually our annoyance gave way to subtle interest. Her determination and commitment to her craft caused us to give a begrudging respect. On one pass the little virtuoso noticed our chuckles, she nodded, held her little fist aloft and shouted “Thank you fist tuba!”
Little Mouse laughed as hard as I did at the quirky kooky kid, not sarcastically or harshly but sharing in the girls unabashed joy and self assured independence. Little Mouse got it. This is only one of the reasons I love her-
Thank you fist tuba indeed.
dysu Oct 19th 4AM