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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/788686-This-ones-about-Sunday-Funday
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Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #1939270
A third attempt at this blogging business.
#788686 added August 12, 2013 at 3:00am
Restrictions: None
This one's about Sunday Funday!
30DBC PROMPT: No prompt??

What's up everyone? I knew I wasn't gonna be around WDC as much for a few days, but I didn't intend on being absent for so long that the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUSOpen in new Window. would go into hibernation in August just because it's not an "official" month. I understand that contests like this will always have a fair amount of turnover, but I guess I didn't fully realize that most of the more recent participants haven't done a "Follow Me" round, and nobody's taken on the role of showing them what to do, like others have in the past. And I wish I could say I would've been a leader-type of organizing person, but this month happened and I was too busy turning 38 to notice everyone else in 30DBC-land slipping away. I wonder if it's too late in the month now to get anyone into it, or if those who'd consider participating now are just like, "Screw it, I'll wait 'til there's somethin' on the line September comes around".

That may have been the longest opening paragraph I've ever typed since the days when my first-born blog was still in knockin' around in diapers.

Anyway, before I really get rollin' deep today, some of you might seem confused. You might be looking at whatever it is you use to notice the date and time, and are thinking to yourselves, "Selves, it's Sunday. Why am I reading this fine gentleman's verbal output on this, the holiest of days?" Well, fret no more, friends, for thine reasonseth of my thou art aren't becauseth of religionism, or anything like that...it's because I actually have the use of internet today, without having to leave the house! Whoo hoo!!

What does that mean? It means my plans for today were shot. I was gonna walk over to the library (which is closed on Sundays) and sit on their steps to see if their Wi-Fi signal worked outside (which it did yesterday), sit there for as long as I could tolerate it, come home and do some cleaning, and call it a (boring) day, while looking forward to tomorrow and actually blogging proper for the first time in almost two weeks.

What did I do instead? Pretty much what almost any sane male in my situation and demographic would do: sat on my bed, streaming the Buffalo Bills game and eating almost a half of a package of Nutter Butters, while continuing to upload tons of music to my laptop (because it's so much easier to do when you have the internet as your wingman, but more on that later). In other words, I really haven't done squat today. Just the basics. In fact, just the basic of the basics. I have to strike while the proverbial iron's hot, or at least still warm after about six hours. I'd hate to be that guy who has to actually get dressed and leave the house to use the internet. Case in point: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pS3Alz0I5H4

So where exactly have I been the last few days since we last mingled? Well, like I mentioned, I had a birthday, and no, you don't have to get me anything. Like I say every freakin' year, if we treated everyone the same way every day like we treat them on their birthday, the world would be a better place. That's partly why I don't place much emphasis on my own "special day" (and you can finger-quote me on that).

My mom came in to town, and we went out to dinner, which was nice (although if there's a Dickey's BBQ near you, don't bother...and I'm not gonna waste my promotional usage by linkin' up to their website- that's how much I'm not a fan). Anyone who's been around these parts of the internet knows that I could count on one hand the number of times I've seen my mom in the last twenty years, so yeah, that was a big deal in itself. The next day we were gonna hit up some local places of interest, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to do other than eat pizza and look at some of the pictures of mine she'd brought down while listening to some of my cd's (also that she'd had). I had her meet me around the way at a local pizza joint.

So here's me, carrying a box down Port Watson St. that isn't big, but awkward because it's got a ton of pictures, plus a book full of about 200 cd's, and my laptop on top of it for good measure. And what happens? My right leg gave out at the ankle. Not the same ankle I broke in December, thankfully, but not good nonetheless. I hit the ground pretty solidly, with scrapes on my knee and elbow to prove it. And by the time we sat down at the pizza joint, it was actually swollen to a size much bigger than its surgically-repaired counterpart, which is a significant fact. It still bugs me today a bit, which means not only am I walking even funnier than normal, but I should've actually gotten it checked out. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ey4WSb-BVDQ

Anyway, I wasn't in the mood to go far, so we just went back to her hotel room and hung out for awhile. We talked about a lot of things, and really caught up, which was good. A lot of stuff was said that needed to be said. It was a positive experience, and I'm thankful for it. I really can't say much more about it, but there's not much more to say about it anyway. It's all about moving forward.

The next day was her last here in Cortland, so we went to lunch and the Museum Of Living History (http://www.cnylivinghistory.org/), which in reality sounds a lot more interesting than it actually is (unless you find old tractors and stuff dead people wore interesting...and since it's a museum of "Living History", well, I think you see where I'm goin' with that *Wink* ), although some of it was kinda cool. I didn't have a bad time. In fact, I spent part of yesterday afternoon at the 14th Annual Brockway Trucks somethin'-somethin'-somethin'-or-other, which was right around the corner from me. All the same old trucks and tractors, all parked along the main drag, attracting tons of yard chairs full of old, fat guys in trucker hats from the '80's. Took me about ten minutes to walk up one side, ten minutes to walk back, ten minutes to realize I'd have to go ten minutes back from the other way to go to the drug store, and 15 minutes to walk out of the way of people who, in the process of looking at large trucks in a parked position, can't be watching out for the people walking next to or near them.

So yeah, that's a bit of an update here. And no, I didn't quite color in all the gaps to account for the last week and a half, but you'll have that. I haven't been all that busy otherwise, but I haven't been all that motivated either. Must be that extra year (and not the 37 before) tacked on to my age.

BCF PROMPT: "In my day, they were known as 'cheap thrills'...something that we did that was exciting but did not give real satisfaction. Share with us some of your favorite cheap thrills. If they are called something else now, share that too! Inquiring minds want to know."

Well, since I know Sundays are usually a "free day" in the "Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt ForumOpen in new Window., and I haven't looked at the prompt yet for Monday, I'm gonna use Saturday's prompt instead. I'd ask you if you mind, but I know you won't. And even if you did, when it's your handle on the masthead I'll take up a little concern. *Smirk*

Everything's a cheap thrill, man. Shit's too expensive nowadays to take lightly, and even then ya still gotta be careful, because every little thing nowadays has the tendency to piss someone off, no matter what. People get offended too easily, and too upset over stupid things. And I'm including myself in that assessment.

Lemme switch directions and give it to ya like this: kids will be kids, kids will always be kids, and kids always do dumb shit just to see what they can do, how far they can go, and prove dumb kid points. It's a fact of life as much as sex, math and Ryan Seacrest. Now, it may be said that what was considered "cheap thrills" when I was a kid is nothing compared to what kids today get away with just as much as it's possible we were allowed to get away with a lot more years ago as well.

Whew. All that run-on of a last sentence means is that it's storytime for this kid.

One of my childhood friends lived down the street from me. We lived on a two-block side street in an old Polish neighborhood. It was anchored by a busy street at one end, another side street at the other end, and ran parallel to a much longer street. Our little street was cut in half by a street that stretched into the city of Buffalo (we were just a few blocks out from the city line).

Scooter had a paper route, and his dad custom-built a bad-ass wagon for his route, which consisted solely of our street (and anywhere from 45-70 copies of The Buffalo News on a given day) . The base of this wagon was your standard red wagon, but it had sides and a lid and was big enough to fit the both of us inside.

Any typical day after school, I'd help him deliver the news. We'd stop at a local convenience store to load up on candy and snacks, walk a block to the local distributor's house to insert the papers, and we were off. Some days we'd get things over and done with, and other days we'd screw around and do anything but deliver papers. Usually things were harmless, and in reality we've done a lot worse...the situation I'm about to describe probably should've ended differently. We were maybe 12 or 13 years old at the time...the awkward late '80's.

We were at the Wilson Farms, grabbin' our junk food for the afternoon. Scooter came around the aisle with a few things, including an old-fashioned toy pistol. You know, the ones you load up with the thin rolls of red paper that make a loud bang when you pull the trigger, and even have a little smoke after to make them look authentic? Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about.

At the middle intersection of our street were some of the larger homes on the block, which were also occupied by some of the oldest people on the street. One of the old ladies must've really caught Scooter's attention and pissed him off somehow, and he was bound to aggravate her right back.

It must be noted that he was a bit more mischievous than I was, but I usually went along with whatever plans he would concoct.

We were gonna deliver the first half of the route, and stage a routine in front of this lady's house, and run like hell to get out of there. Like clockwork, the old lady at the corner was watching us through the window, trying to hide behind her curtain so we wouldn't see her watching us. 'Cuz, ya know, the paperboys are always up to no good. *Wink*

Once we hit the last house on the first half of the street, Scooter would do some yelling, pull the pistol, dramatically point it at me, fire it, and I'd fall to the ground, as if I were really shot. And we did it. When he gave the word to go, I got up and we fled. As I fell, he looked around as if to pretend he was "looking for witnesses", but he was really looking for the old lady's reaction, and it went something like her gasping, putting her hands over her mouth, and running from the window. We got a really good laugh out of it...we don't know if she called the cops or anything like that, and to be honest, it was so long ago that I don't recall anything coming from that situation.

But let's fast-forward to today, about 25 years and a bazillion gun-related tragedies later. I really think there's no way in this world we live in now that we could've pulled that off so easily and carefree. Somehow, if we did it in front of certain groups of people, we probably could've ended up in a lot of trouble for it. This wasn't just rollin' empty pop cans in front of moving cars to watch them get crushed or throwing snowballs at power lines...who knows what this woman was thinking?! We probably scared the ever-lovin' outta her, and she might've called the cops, but we weren't hangin' around on that side of the street long enough to find out once she left the window. The only thing I can think of is that Scooter thought she was being nosy by watching us way she was, and if that was the case, we were gonna give her somethin' to see.

If anything, it was just a harmless stunt to stick an old lady up her own ass. The real funny part is that when I'm that age, I'll probably be the same old man paranoid of kids walking down his street. See...not only can I relate to today's prompt, but I can sorta moralize it and come up with something to think about not only for today, but in the future as well! *Rolleyes*

MUSICAL BREAK!!

Wait, uhhhh...no simian-themed emoticons?? Did I know this already, and have I complained about it? Well, I'm not using "Sunday Sunday" by Blur, "Sunday Morning" by No Doubt, "Sunday Bloody Sunday" by U2, "Sunday Morning Coming Down" by Johnny Cash or "Blue Sunday" by The Doors. You get this instead:



THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

25: Approximate number of Sundays you'll have to go back 'til you find the last entry I've posted on a Sunday...probably even more.

*Pencil* Today wasn't a total waste; due to the internet I was able to get a start on a project that would've had to wait until I really felt like it during the week. Don't worry, y'all will see it soon enough. I'm just glad I got a good jump on it. Excuse me for a "feel good" moment of the day...we're all allowed them now and again.

*Football* And how about them Buffalo Bills? Scoring the most points ever in their preseason history? Two rookie qb's runnin' game like old pros? I know, I know...it's only one game and it's preseason, but gimme a little reason for optimism, and watch a Bills fan take it...especially since it's been 13 years without so much as a sniff of the playoffs.

*Angry* So, am I missing something, or does WDC really have every animal except monkeys, pigs and cows covered in the emoticon section of WritingML? For real? No chickens either? So, the only edible emoticon then is the crab (and by edible, I mean "only what I'll eat", not what people from places who eat other animals eat...and I don't even like crabmeat!!), and the next-closest edible emoticon would be a football, which is sometimes referred to as a "pigskin", even though footballs are technically no longer made from the inflated bladder of a pig. I digress...in addition to eating almost half a package of Nutter Butters while listening to football, I also consumed nearly an entire bag of BBQ Pork Jerky, which I got an amazing deal on at Kinney Drugs...$5.99/bag, on sale for buy one, get one free, and each bag had a $1 off coupon...so that means I paid...ummmm, oh who cares! It's Sunday, so I don't need to do math anyway, and you need somethin' to do when you're done reading this, right?

Ok, well, I know one thing's for certain after blasting through the "don't call it a comeback- I've been here for years" entry: I need more Nutter Butters. Dammit...I knew there was a reason for clothing myself and leaving the house today besides using an internet connection to upload cd's (oh yeah about that...iTunes doesn't like it when you're not connected to the giant database of musical information when you're adding music...and I don't like adding all the title info and cover art by hand when the internet was built for the purposes of doing that and for me telling you about it doing that). Now I'm out of Nutter Butters and Cinnamon/Brown Sugar Pop-Tarts, and I'm afraid the closest store I feel like going to is closed (and "feel like" is the operative phrase at best anyway). I guess that means it's time to switch to Reese's peanut butter cups then. Like going from beer to straight whiskey, without waking up to the hangover or the questionable person next to you. Hope you've all had a great weekend! Peace, you got peanut butter in my chocolate, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!


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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/788686-This-ones-about-Sunday-Funday