I don’t have much to say this morning. Probably because I have a lot on my mind right now.
It is that time of the year where most people want or need to go on vacation.
I don’t need a vacation. I’ll get one when I die.
I’d like a day where I can wake up and turn on cartoons. Old cartoons with anvils falling on coyotes and characters kicking the shit out of each other.
I want three bowls of cereal. My go to concoction is half "Honeycombs" and half "Captain Crunch" peanut butter. The combination is a perfect match of flavor and texture.
I want to put my shoes on, grab my Sox cap, my baseball mitt and go round up seventeen guys for a few innings of baseball.
Maybe when we are riding our bikes to the ballpark we find some old “Penthouse” magazines in the alley. After the game we can look at the pictures in the dugout and talk about stupid stuff.
After we get bored with boobies we can ride over to White Hen and get a package of Matt’s chocolate chip cookies and a "KayO."
I can’t forget to check in with my mom and grab a quick sandwich and an "RC" back home. Hopefully she doesn’t have just "Diet Rite."
“No time to talk Ma… I’m going back to the park to play ‘Smear the Queer’ with the guys...
....Paul got a new ‘Duke’ for his birthday! Bye Ma!”
An afternoon filled with dusty dirt, patchy grass, gang tackles and fumbles. A bunch of ruffians riding bikes back to White Hen for pops, SlimJims and ice cream bars. Ripped tough skins, torn t-shirts, dirty faces and bleeding elbows standing in front of the cash register.
I gotta get home because my Ma is making beef stroganoff Hamburger Helper for dinner tonight and the Sox have a night game on channel 44 with Harry Caray and Jimmy Piersall.
That would be the perfect Thursday for me. No airport security and long trips to littered beaches. Just an afternoon hanging out in the neighborhood with the guys.
Unfortunately I’m going to end chalking and start the real Thursday. Make George’s lunch…. Shit, shower and shave…. Drive Betty into the suburbs… kick the shit out of the markets…. stop at the grocery... go home and make George dinner.... clean the kitchen then watch “Chicago PD.”
It’s going to rain today… you’ll need to make up your own daydream and put the smile on the sun yourself.
….any one have a quarter I can borrow for a “Whatchamacallit?”
