Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Life In A Bottle
Ever feel like your day can sometimes be defined by an empty water bottle? They have a saying back in my ancestral home of Texas that is to point: sucking hind tit. You're either the smallest or slowest puppy in the litter one day, so what do you get? Hind tit. But since some pholks are uncomfortable with mammarian references, I'll substitute hind tit with empty water bottle.
Yesterday, I had to scalp my yard and put in my winter lawn. Anybody who has performed that little chore knows what a monumental pain in the ass it is. You don't get even one full pass with your lawnmower across the yard before the grass catcher fills up. Then, solo dumping of the grass catcher into a big plastic bag is like trying to give a cat a shower with one hand tied behind your back. You tend to work up a thirst. So, I ambled (or did I stroll? Can't remember. Maybe I moseyed.) on in to the kitchen to get a glass of cool water from that upside-down water bottle thing we have in there.
Empty.
No problem. I'd already worked up a sweat and my back was sore. Might as well go for broke and put on a fresh bottle. So I go to the pantry, where I store the spare bottles.
All empty.
Are you freakin' kidding me? This is an outrage! A travesty! What kind of civilized household has to consume that foul detritus known as tap water? Oh sure, you cheap bastards who run restaurants foist that swill upon us all the time. You think if you throw in some ice cubes - simply that selfsame swill in a hardened state - and maybe a little slice of lemon that we won't notice. But we do! That's why we don't touch that glass! Well, that and the fact that we had four beers. Who needs water, after all? Hell, I was thirsty when I went in there, not dirty. Besides, you're wasting a valuable resource when you serve up all that water. At least turning it into beer makes good use of the water, and the attractive containers can be recycled into inexpensive domiciles.
This morning I found my favorite shirt in the laundry basket. Clean, but in desperate need of arning. (That's the Texas pronunciation. I'm staying close to my roots here). So I spread it all out on the arnin' board and plugged in the arn. There's something relaxing and satisfying about arnin'. It's warm and steamy, and you get an immediate payoff for your efforts. Course, you have to spritz your duds a little bit to get the most benefit from arnin', so I grabbed the water bottle, took careful aim, and fired.
Empty.
That stupid bottle is always empty. I'm always filling it back up. Maybe there's a gnome living under our house and draining that bottle when no one's looking. He's down there right now, laughing his ass off as he sits among all that purloined water and all those missing socks.
Naaah. There's a much simpler solution. It's Z-Man and Mateo. Their mutual idea of arnin' is to take the water bottle and spray their clothing until completely damp, then whip and snap it through the air to pop the wrinkles out. They go through like a full bottle a day doing that, then leave the empty carcass for me or TFMCD to refill. I think I'll subsitute the real bottle for one filled with bleach. That should put a stop to it.
So, some days are diamonds, and some are just an endless series of empty water bottles. That's why God invented beer.
Oh, and Jimmy Buffett. Think I'll put on A1A.
|
Yesterday, I had to scalp my yard and put in my winter lawn. Anybody who has performed that little chore knows what a monumental pain in the ass it is. You don't get even one full pass with your lawnmower across the yard before the grass catcher fills up. Then, solo dumping of the grass catcher into a big plastic bag is like trying to give a cat a shower with one hand tied behind your back. You tend to work up a thirst. So, I ambled (or did I stroll? Can't remember. Maybe I moseyed.) on in to the kitchen to get a glass of cool water from that upside-down water bottle thing we have in there.
Empty.
No problem. I'd already worked up a sweat and my back was sore. Might as well go for broke and put on a fresh bottle. So I go to the pantry, where I store the spare bottles.
All empty.
Are you freakin' kidding me? This is an outrage! A travesty! What kind of civilized household has to consume that foul detritus known as tap water? Oh sure, you cheap bastards who run restaurants foist that swill upon us all the time. You think if you throw in some ice cubes - simply that selfsame swill in a hardened state - and maybe a little slice of lemon that we won't notice. But we do! That's why we don't touch that glass! Well, that and the fact that we had four beers. Who needs water, after all? Hell, I was thirsty when I went in there, not dirty. Besides, you're wasting a valuable resource when you serve up all that water. At least turning it into beer makes good use of the water, and the attractive containers can be recycled into inexpensive domiciles.
This morning I found my favorite shirt in the laundry basket. Clean, but in desperate need of arning. (That's the Texas pronunciation. I'm staying close to my roots here). So I spread it all out on the arnin' board and plugged in the arn. There's something relaxing and satisfying about arnin'. It's warm and steamy, and you get an immediate payoff for your efforts. Course, you have to spritz your duds a little bit to get the most benefit from arnin', so I grabbed the water bottle, took careful aim, and fired.
Empty.
That stupid bottle is always empty. I'm always filling it back up. Maybe there's a gnome living under our house and draining that bottle when no one's looking. He's down there right now, laughing his ass off as he sits among all that purloined water and all those missing socks.
Naaah. There's a much simpler solution. It's Z-Man and Mateo. Their mutual idea of arnin' is to take the water bottle and spray their clothing until completely damp, then whip and snap it through the air to pop the wrinkles out. They go through like a full bottle a day doing that, then leave the empty carcass for me or TFMCD to refill. I think I'll subsitute the real bottle for one filled with bleach. That should put a stop to it.
So, some days are diamonds, and some are just an endless series of empty water bottles. That's why God invented beer.
Oh, and Jimmy Buffett. Think I'll put on A1A.
