| So the wife is away for the week, and as such I’m monstrously bored. I’m probably supposed to be packing, what with our moving on Friday (by which I mean MY moving on Friday – she picked a good week to leave town) but I’m far too lazy. I spent Sunday desperately trying to entertain myself, starting with calling radio stations with bogus requests. My brother and I used to do this when we were kids – there was a tiny, rinky-dink AM station near us called WARE, and we would call and ask them to play non-existent songs like “Three Men In A Chinese House” by the Lollipop Express. I’m not sure how many DJs actually spent time looking for the tune, but I’d like to apologize to them for detracting from time they could have been playing more Ink Spots records or talking about composting. I called a bunch of radio stations but most of the request lines these days are automated. Those that had real people answer the phone weren’t nearly as funny as I thought they’d be, but since I’m rapidly running out of ideas, I’ll fill some space with them: JOY 90.5, Spotsylvania – Christian Radio ME: Can you play “Only One Per Coffin” by Circle of Dead Children? THEM: I’m sorry sir, that’s not the kind of music we play. ME: Oh. Um…well, thanks anyway. Go Jesus! WTOP, Washington – AM Talk Radio ME: Can you play “Love You Inside Out” by the Bee Gees? THEM: Um…this is a talk radio station. ME: Oh. How about “You Don’t Have To Be A Star” by Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis, Jr.? THEM: (click) WARW, Bethesda – Classic Rock ME: Can you play “Rock Me Amadeus” by Falco? THEM: Yeah, whatever (click). (I call back) ME: Was that a yes? Falco’s dead, you know. THEM: (click) WARE, Ware, Massachusetts – AM oldies and talk ME: Can you play “Three Men in a Chinese House” by the Lollipop Express? THEM: I don’t know that one, but if I can find it I’d be glad to. ME: I used to love that song when I was a kid. This got boring really fast, however, so I needed to find new ways to entertain myself. Normally when the wife is around, I can entertain myself by embarrassing her in public. For example, she and I used to be counselors at a summer camp in the extremely conservative town of Mountain City, Georgia, a town so small the directions to camp are "Located in on Hwy 441 just south of the traffic light," the traffic light being the major landmark of the area. Mountain City is near another town called Clayton, in which everything is called Clayton something, i.e. Clayton Auto Repair, Clayton Firearms, Clayton Balloon Catheters, etc. The town is run by the Clayton family, who has clearly grown to such dynamic proportions because of massive inbreeding, a real problem in that area. It reminded me a bit of the towns the A-Team would always come across, in which everyone is terrorized by the vengeful family that controls everything, only in this case the townspeople were too fat, lazy, related or inbred to care. At any rate, one day we visited this cute little restaurant called the Clayton Cupboard. It was a picturebook southern family restaurant, the kind with a gift shop that sells cured ham and funny pictures of curmudgeonly old people saying witty things. Deb and I were with our friend Josh, who is currently getting his law degree at Yale – they clearly don’t test for maturity in New Haven these days. On the way out I noticed they were selling pie, and as is standard when I see anything that looks like pie, I wanted some. So I waited for a waitress. And waited. Josh and I began making loud comments about the service, culminating with my yelling, “WHO’S A** DO I HAVE TO STICK MY D*** INTO TO GET A PIECE OF PEANUT BUTTER PIE?” A very nice old lady told us that it might be a good idea if we didn’t go back to the Cupboard, and Deb probably thought it might be a good idea if she left Josh and I for dead on a highway somewhere. This wasn’t the only restaurant near camp that we were kicked out of – my friend Gibly and I were asked to leave a Pizza Hut because we were smearing pizza all over our faces. Fortunately Deb had stormed out in disgust before we were asked to leave, thus saving her the embarrassment of being associated with us. All the women reading this think I’m nuts, but the men are nodding their heads in silent agreement – every once in a while this horribly massive immature streak overtakes men, and we’re powerless to stop it. It culminates in mid-life crises, and it’s why we buy ridiculously expensive cars, date 18-year olds, and spend our time designing childish websites. By the way, this site will go all nude next week. |
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| BOREDOM AND IMMATURITY A LETHAL COMBINATION |
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