Hey y'all, it's time for Old Coot to holler at you one more 'gain. Did any of you catch the moon last night? It was humongous, and right when it began its path across the sky, it was a deep orange. When I first saw it I didn't even know what it was. Surrisly, it looked like Charlie Brown's The Great Pumpkin.
For all you haters out there, here's something else you can hate on me for. I watched the moon come up in all of it's lunar splendor last night from the comfy seat in my kayak. Leroy (the bat) was out most of the night binging on bugs and generally keeping them away from me, and the temperature was just right. I had a hot coffee in my cupholder and lazily paddled my way to and fro about the lake.
For my B-lo folk, there was a big red ball anchored in the middle of the lake. I proceeded to paddle up to it and try to play with it (which is when I learned that it was anchored). Had it been loose, you can garr-rohn-tee I would have carried it up to the steps of my friendly neighborhood art gallery and played a hot game of Red Ball. What! And when I say 'big red ball', this thing was probably six feet in diameter. I'd put a picture up, but Blogger won't let me.
For my B-erkshire folk, I'm getting a grill. Having deemed my charcoal grill unworthy, my parents have taken pity on my soul and ordered me a big honking gas grill. This puppy puts off enough British Thermal Units to suck a propane tank dry in no time. It's like the Hummer of the gas grill world. Granted, I haven't seen it yet as it won't be delivered for another week or so (oh man, I hope it gets here before I leave for Vegas), but we'll be getting hurricanes up here in New England after a season of cooking on this bad boy (that's a global warming reference, dumbasses).
In other news, I might be doormanning at a ritzy, lah-dee-dah fundraiser this weekend. From the sound of it, I would dress up in a doorman getup complete with top-hat, tails and white gloves - thank you very much - and greet all of the wealthy Berkshire folk, charming all the ladies with my Libran charm. Once full of appetizers and champagne, I will once again hold the door for them as they head across the street to a showing of Mame starring Sandy Duncan (I know you remember the show about Sandy Duncan and her family from the 80s). Drunk off Alize and Crystal, the wives will all tell me how charming and handsome I am (pinching my cheeks), and tell me how perfect I would be for their wealthy, beautiful, tennis-star daughters. Perfect that is, if I weren't a lowly doorman.
Once the last guest has moved across the street, I will quickly change into my debonair outfit (the same outfit as before minus the coat, tophat and gloves) and join them in their uppercrust event. Afterwards, we will all adjourn to a fancy nearby restaurant to tell stories about places ending in 'ingham (Wetheringuppitingham) and enjoy gourmet chocolate truffles. Ahh, you may hate some more.
Okay, that's that. Time for Old Coot to get his beauty rest.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
The Great Pumpkin is Real
Posted by Todd at 5:06 PM
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