Sunday, March 21, 2010

A fun day.


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Seems like it’s been so long since I had a chance to write a column I forgot about what I usually write about.

I looked thru my email to see if anyone sent any questions, but all I got were a bunch of emails like this:

Dear Webmaster,
I found your web site on the Internet and it is very much like ours.
Would you like to exchange links?

Then I check the web site link and it’s for a kitchen tile company or a rug factory. It doesn’t even make sense? How are these sites anything like ours? Nobody who writes fiction ever asks for a link.

And how dare they invade my internet privacy and look at my web site on the internet.

Anyway, If you are reading this and you have a web site that features fiction, go ahead and drop me an email, I’d love to link to you! I’m actually making some corrections at the Story section, www.MyStrangeStories.com. I updated to the latest version of Word press and some stuff got messed up…I never fixed it, so now I am.

A few weeks ago, I went out and drank and least four times as much as I usually do. I know I seem young, but I’m actually close 67 years; although, many think I’m only 30 something. I just can’t drink as much as I used to.

Anyways after a night of drinking, falling down, dancing like Michael Jackson, and explaining to my boss what goes into a really nice pair of breasts, I go home.

Right to the back porch I go to light up my first cigarette. Needless to say, it’s almost midnight so I’ve really wanted a cigarette. Also, I smoke the strongest cigarettes on the market, American Spirits –hand rolled. These babies can give you a little buzz on a good day!

I take a big drag…get a little dizzy and my knees buckle and I fall face down into the snow (which was hard and chunky at that time). I sit there face down and can’t get up. So I’m face down and I just can’t move my body, but I am aware. I push back to sit on my knees and I notice I still have my cigarette arm raised high to save the smoke.

Turns out if I hadn’t instinctively tried to save the smoke, I could have used my arm to help break the fall. Feeling stupid for the first time that night I go back inside and watch a little TV to get my wits about me.

My wife steps into the room and shouts, “What the hell happened to you, you drunken moron!”

“What?” comes my witty response.

“You got blood all down your face.”

“What, no I don’t?”

I go to the bathroom and find she’s right.

I end up with a black eye and the side of my face is all scraped up so I look like I got the heck beat out of me.

The next day I tell folks, “Sure my face is a little bruised, but you should see the condition of that guys fist.”


COMING NEXT: Is there a bump on my forehead?

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