Today, just a few minutes ago, as I was driving home from work, I hit a small traffic jam (about ten cars). As I sat and pondered the reason for this miniature jam, I saw a chicken walk out between the two rows of cars. That's right, the flow of traffic in North Tampa was temporarily halted because a chicken crossed the road. I don't even have a joke here. Make up your own (man, am I getting lazy or what?).
I completely underestimated the value of text messaging. Sunday night, I received a text message from a girl asking me when she could come over. Ordinarily, I just call these girls back and set a time because I am against the idea of typing something that could be said quicker than it could be tapped out. However, the last chick's phone speaker was broken (as her message stated), so I obliged her. Then we had sex. Then I got to thinking, since I'm too lazy to flirt and don't use instant messaging, I have obviously discounted the easiest way to get laid. All the girls in my phone are getting text messages, tonight. Honestly, it's amazing how lazy I have become.
I've typed it before and I'm typing it now: I don't care about Tom Cruise's baby.
I met a guy at The Local Pub a few days ago. He told me that he stops going to bars the minute the bartender knows his name. He said that, “once the barkeep knows ya', you probably have a drinking problem.” Just then, Bethany (the bartender) walked in and we had a conversation about my writing, her new niece and a few other new things in our lives. “Is she a friend of yours?” the random “drinking rule” guy asked me. I replied, “Unlike you, I like to get to know my bartenders.” He moved over a couple of stools after that one.
I want to take this opportunity to use this space to wish a speedy recovery to those affected by the storms in St. Louis. Especially the poor people. They'll need it the most.
Confession time: I don't play fantasy football. It's just not something I like to do. I feel that it takes away from the fun of rooting for a team, and I originally thought it was designed for people whose significant others won't let them gamble. And I'm not married. So I can still gamble.
Words from my friend Doug, after reading the history of the Hezbollah: “Dude, this thing reads like the explanation of a college bar fight. It's like, ‘he pushed me, so I pushed him, then his friend hit me with a stool so my girlfriend poured beer on him, so I grabbed a beer bottle and broke it over his head.' What a waste of oxygen these people are.” He said it. Not me.
And finally, because logic and fluidity got stuck in traffic when a chicken decided to cross the road, I leave you with the following, which my friend Sheila said to me.
“If you weren't having such a good time, you'd probably be in a bigger hurry to grow up.”