Flip Flop Flying

Where I write something just to get back in the habit

without comments

On the way home from a bar last night, I stopped off for one last drink at a place I’ve often walked by, often enjoyed the brief moment of music I’ve heard as I passed, and often wondered what sort of place it was. It was rammed in there, and I found out why. Pole dancers. No cover charge, decent priced drinks. Awesome. Sadly I arrived just a little too late, just in time for last orders, so I had a quick rum and Coke, watched a lass do her thing for a few minutes and left. As I stumbled home, I heard some screeching in an alley. I went to have a look what it was. I have no idea what sort of create it was. At first I thought it might be racoons, but as I got closer I noticed the branches of a tree shaking. Do racoons climb trees? They seem a bit big for that. So I’m thinking it was likely squirrels. But they were at it hammer and tongs. Couldn’t see the fight going on; it was dark and the tree had lots of leaves.

I saw a skunk, too. But that was last week. I’m not gonna pretend it was last night. I could do that, I could lie to you and you’d be the none the wiser. A couple of night ago, though, I smelled a skunk. It was in the early hours of the morning, and at first I thought my one of my neighbours was smoking weed on the balcony. But they weren’t. It was obviously a skunk. Either that or it was a skunk smoking weed, deliberately trying to fry my brain.

Lazy, lazy morning lying in bed watching Weezer and Beach Boys videos on YouTube. Took me until around 2pm to drag my carcass out of bed to go to the shops. At the moment I’m going through all the pages of the copyedited manuscript of my Flip Flop Fly Ball book. I’ve been instructed to make notes on the print outs in a different colour. Makes sense. So I had to go and buy a green biro today. I was a wee bit shocked at how difficult it was to buy one biro. Just one. Not a pack of three of five. One. One pen. If I’d needed a black pen, I could’ve justified buying three cos they would come in handy at some point, but three green pens? I could live to be one hundred and thirty nine years old and I’d still not have used up three pens worth of green ink. In the end, I had to go to an art supplies store, where I found a Pilot pen, one of their B2P range, which are apparently made from recycled water bottles.

While I was out of my green pen hunt, I saw a man taking a photo of a billboard poster with his cellphone. I can’t remember what the poster was advertising, but it had a man and a woman hugging on it. The man on the poster was the same man who was taking the photograph. It was kinda nice to see someone so handsome being a wee bit excited about his face being on a poster. Either that or he was sexting someone, like, “Yeah baby, I’m hot as shit.” Perhaps that’s what the screeching squirrels were doing, too, though, shouting filthy sex talk at each other and fucking in the trees. Where’s David Attenborough when you need him?

Written by Craig

August 21st, 2010 at 8:39 pm

Posted in Blah blah

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