Friday, April 08, 2005


When I get my pictures back, I’ll re-visit my vacation and fill-in holes and blanks. I will share briefly the story of the stoner in Beaumont, Texas. I had stopped for gas and you can’t get gas unless you pay for it up front so I was jacking around with the credit card thingy when this guy on the other side of my pump asked me if I thought it would be quicker to take 105 to Conroe or to stay on I-10, go through Houston, and take I-45 North. I told him I wasn’t from the area but I had a map. He came over and I pulled out my “Courtesy of the Great State of Texas - Texas Is A Big Ass State So We Have A Big Ass Roadmap” roadmap and as I already had it folded around to the Houston area all I had to do was find Conroe. So, as I’m perusing said map, Stoner Dude, says, “So, do you smoke?” I’m not naive but I did give him a very stupid look and slowly said, “Uhhhhh... yeah?” Umm... I think? No? Yes? WTF? He gave me a slow grin and said, “No baby, you know, herb,” putting his stoner fingers to his mouth in the classic toke position, “weed...” I gave him the “Nanner thinks you’re a dumbass stoner” look and said, “No, I’m fucked up enough without it.” He kind of laughed and I tried to bring his attention back around to the map. I asked him if 105 was two lane or four lane and he said, “Ohhh, I think it’s a two lane.” I said, “You need to stay on a four lane. I would just go to Houston and head north.” “Really you think so?” By now, okay, I got the picture. The guy didn’t give a shit about how to get to Conroe. I could detect a slight trace of an alcoholic beverage on his breath and his grin was definitely pot induced. Loverly. “So, are you single?” I looked at him over the top edge of my sunglasses, head cocked in a very Labrador like manner, eyebrows raised.... Oh my Gawd, I’m being picked up at a gas station and not even a truck stop at that. I’m losing my touch. “Uhhh... NO! I’m not single. HAP-pily not single. Not single.” OY! Anyway... My real point of this post is about the bed frame in my bedroom. I have a king-size waterbed frame made from... oak or some other hardwood. Its heavy as hell. I couldn’t even begin to lift the headboard when it was apart. This monstrosity no longer has a waterbed mattress. Too many cats, too many holes, too much work. Plus, it was Holland’s. He left it here since I had gotten rid of my mattresses. I think he just didn’t want to move it again. What a bitch. So... yeah, he left it for me. Naturally. This bedframe belonged to his parents for a long time before they gave it to him. The cats have used the cushioned side rails as a scratching post, the Pisser-Dog Jessie was too little to get on the bed so she scratched the hell out of the sides of it, and, honestly, I hate the motherfuckin’ thing. I don’t even want to take it apart. I just want to burn it, right there in the house. I don’t think my homeowners insurance would cover that though. However, I do have: a Philip’s head, a flat head, a crowbar, and a saw. In a pinch, I know my Dad has a chainsaw. I want to dismantle this thing in the most disgusting way possible. I look at my porch and think... ya know... I could use some new lattice work around the bottom... hmmmmmm... I look at the 12 drawers on the waterbed and think.... hmmmmmm... all that wood. Don’t think I won’t do it. Hell, I’ll even take pictures. I’ve hated this damn thing for a long time. Since I only have queen size mattresses.... well... I don’t give a shit anymore. I was supposed to go see Troy next weekend but that’s been switched to this weekend. Nate and I will meet him in Lexington, VA, three hours away, for dinner. So, while Nate is at his dad’s next weekend... :-) Hee hee hee hee hee... I’m trashing that piece of shit. The thought of taking a crowbar and wedging it into a crevice, pulling with all my strength, and hearing the crack and splintering of wood... its almost orgasmic. And on that note... have a great weekend everyone!!!
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