The night time is the right time for Rex. He always goes to bed when I do and waits for me to begin to nod off.
He watches and waits, and when he senses that everyone is settled in, he clocks into his third shift job. Rex jumps out of bed and goes to work.
Gracie raises her head for a moment and sighs. "There goes the dog again" (Gracie has no idea that she is a dog and does her best to humor Rex)
The nightly "Gracie sigh" indicates that now she can finally get some rest and she is off to dreamland. In about 5 minutes, she will start running in her sleep and grumbling. I scratch her ear and she stops, snorts...and falls off to sleep again.
Meanwhile, Rex is workin' the house that he has all to himself in the dark, like some furry little security guard. Little intermittent noises throughout the house give him away. A squeak from a toy in the office, a shoe being drug across the living room floor, a spatula being drug across the kitchen floor, a chair in the dining room being nudged with his nose as he moves it to make way for his pile of socks and underwear, a single random "yap" as he watches the chipmunks dance around in the moonlight through the guest bedroom window.
Rex returns to bed just before the sun rises in the morning.
Within the next hour or two I will wake up with Rex wrapped around my head, sharing a pillow.
It is in that bleary-eyed moment, when I am awakened by a large wet nose and a kiss, that I believe in synchronicity and a blissful notion that all is right with the world.
Then, I'll not have those kind of thoughts again for another 24 hours.
Tina Turner, yall. The original ghetto diva. Back in the day, Tina could make a preacher cuss, a school girl blush, and a blind man see! Back in the day???...hell...girl still "brangs" it. It's them legs. Awwwww yeah.
I still love this song. It's another one of my happy happy happy songs.
Yep...Nutbush, Tennessee yall. I am very very proud to have grown up in a state that has towns named...
"Nutbush"
"Buck Snort"
"Bugtussle"
"Hang Dog"
"Bitter End"
"Sweet Lips"
....and my favorite Tennessee town....."SUCK CREEK". Awww yeah.
(For real though yall. I googled the shit out of these names to reaffirm my memory. These are real names of real municipalities in Tennessee.)
I guess there are more messed-up-named towns though...
Come on Lopez, the gig is up. We aren't going to let a silly little thing like a restraining order keep us apart, are we now? I know you have my numbers...after all, I have left like what...573 messages on your cell phone? But who's counting? Oh, by the way...the portrait of you that I sent...the one I lovingly and pains-takingly fashioned, using hot glue, beans, peas, and various legumes...was returned to me today by UPS. I'm sure there was some mistake on their part.
...Well, that is THE LAST TIME I'm going to buy yogurt out of the trunk of some guy's car in the parking lot.
Next time, you can be sure I'm going to go in the store and pay the extra 20 cents.
(Ok...so I'm kidding. I didn't really do that. I just thought that an imaginary black market yogurt deal in some random dimly lit parking lot was funny. But that's just me.)
Well first of all, any substance that can't decide whether it's pudding, ice cream, or sour cream is just suspect in my opinion. Ohhhhh yes, yogurt will bob and weave and tell you that it is a distinct and beneficial dairy product, but I still don't trust it. Ohhhhh yes, it sits and waits, with an expiration date of...say 4 to 6 weeks down the road...lulling you into a passive sense of security.
But then you open it. Things are happening in that container. Not pretty things, mind you. Stuff is separating and forming a ring of curious liquid around the edge of the container...like a placenta for some alien about to hatch and jump out to burrow into your brain through your nostrils.
I always sniff yogurt before I eat it. I don't know why. It just warrants sniffing. My former workout partner used to sniff every single forkful of his food before he ate it, when we went out to eat after the gym. That used to drive me fucking crazy. It was the most annoying habit I have ever witnessed in another human.
So anyways...."Fruit on the Bottom"...??? What's THAT shit all about? Just another subliminal message so the "Man" can keep the gay guys down, right? Uh huh.
This has nothing to do with the post either, but Marc just snagged advance tickets for us to see Roger Waters here in May. I LOVE AMEX...that's all I'm sayin. How cool is THAT!
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