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Wednesday, July 27, 2005

The Most Glorious Day

To martyr yourself to caution
Is not going to help at all
because ther'll be no safety in numbers
When the right one walks out of the door

Just going back on my point on Monday about stupid baseball fans, it seems that it’s getting worse.

Apparently Manny Ramirez wants out of Boston now (I have no idea why). So now, there seems to be too many Twins fans who think that Terry Ryan should try to acquire Manny.


Well first.. Eh…

(blink: blink)

What the Christ? It seems that all of a sudden the Vikings fans have run amuck and started talking baseball.

Manny Ramirez, and his 22.5 million salary. The guy who was placed on wavers a couple years ago and no-one (including the Yankees) took.

I mean really!

Anyway I was reading a blog that was talking about a potential epitaph about someone peeing pink lemonade and that got me thinking.

What if I could pee pink lemonade? Or just regular lemonade?

Since this is my dream, I’m going to go the full nine add that it’s ice cold lemonade.


It is the most glorious day.

I’m thinking of a beautiful summer day out in the country. Clothes are hung on the side of the house with a gentile breeze pushing up against the tighty whities. The yard is huge, HUGE, and I suppose there are crops of some sort somewhere, but I’m sure as hell not growing them.
In the front yard next to the long gravel driveway stands a huge cottonwood with a tire swing tied onto it. It’s the perfect evening to a beautiful summer day and me and my family is going to have a picnic.

I’m standing at our picnic table patiently waiting for biscuits and gravy when I politely shout,
“GOD DAMMIT WOMAN I’M HUNGRY! GIT ME MY BUSCUITS QUICK OR I’LL RID YOU OFF THAT THEM TULIPS.” as I stick my thumbs in the straps of my overalls.
“Hold on honey dumpling, it’s almost ready.” much quieter coming through the screen door.

I can hear the sounds of my beautiful children playing on the other side of the house

Around the corner they come. Lil’ Billy (9) and Lil’ Suzie (7) were the result of my idiotic idea of using Saran wrap as a contraceptive and here I am, living in the country with my family.

The wife, beautiful and resembling the woman in the commercials, comes out with two baskets full of biscuits and gravy spread all around.

This was good eatin!

We all sit at the preset table and say begin supper with our/my ritual of praying to my personal god, which is just like one of the guys.
“God I tell ya, today is a great day because we’re having biscuits again. I can’t wait. I also got a dirty look by that neighbor that *looks over* DRIVES ME CRAZY! YEAH I’M TALKING TO LEROY! YOU’RE A STUPID BITCH! OK, OK SHUT UP, I’M TALKING TO GOD.
*clears throat* Anyway, see ya tomorrow god.

Now for some good eatin.”

The family waits for me to take my portions and then takes the few biscuits that are left.
“Dad, what about the lemonade?”
I look at the empty pitcher of ice when it hits me.

“Oh, I’m sorry everyone, one minute”

I grab the pitcher, stand up and turn around, and unlock my suspenders holding my overalls up. It takes a couple shakes of my manhood and eventually the steady stream of lemonade makes an appearance.

It’s a good thing I drank all that water today or else my family would have to go with the sick, unfiltered country water like the time I had a hernia.

As the pitcher fills up I motion for little Billy to come and take the pitcher because I think I’ll have a little extra lemonade to fill my own glass.
“Alright, 1, 2, and GO!”

Lil’ Billy hands me my glass as I hand him the pitcher of newly pissed, ice cold lemonade as I’m still going strong into my own cup.

Finally my well dried up and I put my overalls back and turn around for my biscuits.

It is the most glorious day!

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