notes from
the MUCK . . .

How does your garden grow? With muck, muck and more muck! I spent much of today finishing the final muck box and then shifting muck from one box to the next. The first box, which the Big Lad is enthusiastically pointing out, has been rotting down for two years now and once we’d removed the top quarter of unrotted material, we found we’d hit the pay dirt.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Go Panthers.

So, you're out for a drink and some food with your girlfriend/wife/lady friend/mother/grandma at the local sports bar, "Banana Joe's". You always mock the name with girlfriend/wife etc when you go past it, and make ironical comments about it to each other. Secretly though, you are really pissed off because that is the name you would give a bar if you opened one. Now you're stuck with plan b, "Arabian Nights".
You always make fun of the locals as well who are always propping up the bar, making little quips like; "I bet this place would fall into another dimension if ol' bobby five bellies weren't here", or "Hey Steve, 1985 called, it wants its sense of style back". Of course, you never make these comments so loud that they would hear you. Secretly however you harbor an aching admiration for five bellies' ability to eat nachos from his beard, and stay awake at night worrying that your lady is attracted to Steve's 1inch heels, leather jacket that stops somewhere around his nipples, pony tail, and tattoo of a wolf eating a sheep.

So you're having a drink and a chat;its a little rowdier than usual, there's been a football game; and the Panthers are playing in town tonight, what was the score? Who cares?? Drinks flow, as does conversation...Its getting late...You need food...You order Nachos...(five bellies mocks you silently with his piggy little eyes as you ask for silverware). Then your ladyfriend excuses themselves to go to the toilet. Time not to feel conspicuous sitting alone; flip a beermat, spin a coin, check messages on phone, play snake on phone, read menu again (you already ordered)...Its been sometime and she hasn't come back...hmmm, that's ok, just making room for dinner...More minutes go by....DAMMIT, its been half an hour....panic, look at bar, its ok, Steve is still there...More waiting...The foods here...Good...ahhhh, sweet glance at your watch...time to worry???

WHOA!!! Some kind of commotion erupts from the bathroom hear shouting (mostly female but some male, mostly in anger, some in obvious appreciation) and the side door of the bar opening and closing numerous times as some people noisily leave. Then your companion barges back to the table and sits down obviously angry. "UN-FUCKIN'-BELIEVABLE" She exclaims...."just spent a half hour waiting for the john coz two cheerleaders were in there havin' sex...i almost pissed my pants".She proceeds to calm now the incident is behind her...the food is here, and so is her drink...she picks at the nachos...

It appears she has stolen your ability to think straight with this many questions, "did you SEE????", "HOW were they doing it???", "are they STILL doing it??" "WHERE are they now?????" This is just the tip of the ice berg for you; and you know they will never be answered, and that you will be like the rest of us who read about this happening in Banana Joe's in Florida, in an article that gives so much, yet so little.

You attempt to eat more nachos, but you suddenly feel sick to your stomach, five bellies is stroking his beard, and steve is taking off his jacket in an purposeful manner, exposing his tattoo. Damn.