Nice Place To Get Away.
I was looking for a nice place to get away from it all. A place where I could relax and not be bothered from a mass of people…I found the perfect place, not far from downtown, located in North Side…Sorry, on the “North Shore” for the more pretentious among us. Anyway, here’s the spot.
It’s a nice quiet place to get things done and has a great view of the city skyline.
There was something that resembled a baseball game when I was attending. Of course that would require an actual major league team with a major league payroll. I was witness to nothing of the sort.
Just keep it quiet. Nobody seems to know about this place. It can be our nice little sanctuary to get away from the crowds.
No Beer?
No Beer?
Recently…Ok, over the past few months…I noticed something weird happening to my body. My clothes that fit me a year ago were feeling tighter and I had this roll of flab hanging over my pants. I was concerned that I had possibly swallowed a seed and had a watermelon growing in my stomach. What other explanation could there be?
I made an appointment with my doctor. I was hoping we could avoid surgery and there was another way to remove the watermelon. As I was explaining the problem to my doctor, he told me to get on the scale.
Fifteen pounds heavier than I was a year ago. This is one big melon!
“Have you been eating more than usual?”
“No, I always try to watch my diet.”
“Do you drink beer?”
“Yeah, so…what’s wrong with that? I’ve read that having a beer or two a day is good for your health.”
“Do you only have one or two a day?”
“Ok, so maybe I’ve had enough to keep me healthy for the next five years.”
Cursed
Cursed
Last week, I got something I hadn’t had for a very long time. Something, I didn’t think I would ever get again…No, not an erection…Shut-Up!
I trimmed my mother’s hedges…No, that’s not a euphemism…What’s wrong with you people today? I’ve been doing the hedges at her house for years, because I’m a good son. Also, because she has a way of making you feel guilty for not doing things.
Anyway, there’s usually some vines in there which appear to be poison ivy. I got a rash from it once when I was about eight or nine and never had it since. I’m immune…or at least I thought I was.
When I was finished, my mother said to me,
“I hope you don’t get poison ivy.”
“I never get it.”
That should be the end of the conversation, shouldn’t it? For normal people maybe, but not that crazy lady. She was relentless. I brought her back to my house for dinner. Every three minutes in the car,
“I hope you don’t get poison ivy.”
Between bites at dinner,
“I hope you don’t get poison ivy…”
“You’re wishing it on me!”
