Well, it's summertime here in the Heart of Dixie. That means it's hot. A lot of hot.
For those of us who grew up wearing husky-size jeans and graduated into the big-n-tall portion of Wal-Mart in later life, the heat of summer can bring particular miseries. Especially when one's fat little legs work themselves together as we walk, and produce an effect much like a Boy Scout starting a fire with two sticks. (Assuming he's starting a fire with two chubby sacks of meat instead of sticks.)
Anyway, that sort of a heat rash is bothersome, and it's nice to have a little talcum powder to cool things off. I've about finished off all the bits and pieces of baby powder we had left over from when the kids were little, so when I went to the store today, I figured I'd pick up a replacement box.
'Say,' I said to myself, 'I wonder how this Gold Bond Medicated Powder would work?', being that I'd seen it provide instant cooling relief to a variety of low-paid actors on late weekend night television commercials. I compared the name brand to the store brand, and was about to get the cheapo version when I espied the EXTRA STRENGTH version of Gold Bond. Ah, nothing like the nuclear version, right?
Right.
So, I finished my shopping, came home, unloaded, made lunch for myself and the kids, went and got some more stuff from the store that I'd forgotten, did a load of clothes, and then remembered my powder purchase--you know, what with all that to-and-fro friction I'd brought onto my limbs from using them to walk.
Upstairs, peeled off the safety seal on top of the powder, dropped my jeans down, pulled out the waistband of my tighty-whities, and dumped a generous helping of talc, acacia, eucalyptol, methyl salicylate, salicylic acid, thymol, zinc stearate, 5.0% zinc oxide, and 0.8% menthol down onto Area 51.
Hmm. I expected...well, something. Oh, well.
Hitched everything back up, put away the powder, sat down to check my email, and was suddenly reminded of the old Richard Pryor routine where one of his characters decided to splash some aftershave onto himself, and decided to splash some everywhere, and was suddenly betaken by an intense burning the like of which he'd never felt, causing him to want to flush certain parts of himself down the toilet.
I was reminded of this routine because after about ten seconds of sitting, I began to feel a distinct tingling sensation, something like when you slam your elbow into the corner of a table while catching your little toe on the corner of your bed while eating a bowl of jalapenos inside of a blast furnace on the Sun, all concentrated into a small area not usually accustomed to such sensations.
Those of you who've ever been victimized by the application of a dollop of Icy-Hot or Atomic Balm to your athletic supporter by your "friends" in the locker room might be familiar with the sensation.
That was about thirty minutes ago now, and I think in the future, I shall not be nearly so free in the application of Gold Bond (Extra Strength) Medicated Powder to my more sensitive locations.
Oh, hardly. ::disdainful look of false modesty::
Despite the fact that Possumblog long ago went the way of the passenger pigeon (hunted to extinction by those with a taste for scavenging marsupial flesh, and ill-written silliness), people DO still occasionally find themselves here.
AND on occasion, that particular people-person is someone REALLY FAMOUS. In this instance, one Andrea Lindenberg, local Tee-Vee morning anchor and fellow Auburn alum!
(Quick backstory--Andrea is part of the team who eventually wrested control from the vile usurpers of the original Wendy Garner Show anchor crew--oddly enough, the original person they brought in was just yesterday confirmed to have been made redundant. Anyway, although I always resented Wendy being so unceremoniously dumped, she actually has made her way back to the station for the noontime lifestyle show gig, so that's good. And I like Ms. Lindenberg, so I didn't hate her for being on in the mornings instead of Wendy.)
Anyway, so after Possumblog became deader'n a hammer (due to work constraints and having exhausted the supply of stupid things I could say about things), I figured to stay hip and with-it, I'd at least try this Bookface thing the youngsters are all so wacky about. As was the case when I blogged regularly, I felt duty-bound to try to be the creepy-stalker guy I always was and make sure I loaded up my friend requests with all the local attractive journalism grads (and a few national ones, too), and sure enough, some were just naive enough to click the accept button. Notably, one previously mentioned A. Lindenberg, who this morning sent the following note to me:
Subject: Howdy
I JUST realized you are the artist behind Possumblog!! I'm slow, but I usually get there. ;) Enjoy your writing.
Andrea/Aunie
I would have answered her back immediately, but such sites are evil and blocked by our computers, so I figured the next best thing would be to cobble together this long-winded essay to say thanks to her for dropping by, reading, and supplying me with the constant positive reinforcement that I cannot do without. And to advise her to get help. Quickly.
ANYway, since you've all read down this far, might as well bring you up to date.
Work is more harried than ever. I've got stacks of papers surrounding me, and no time to file any of it, so I figure at some point it'll just spontaneously combust.
We did get to go on a brief getaway two weeks ago to the lovely DeSoto State Park and stayed in a very nice little cabin. Believe it or not, when I walked in and went to the back door to look out, I saw a danged WOODCHUCK scurrying his fat butt into the woods! 48 years old, and never saw a woodchuck in the wild, and within the past four months have seen TWO of the things. We also saw a fox while we were there.
Speaking of 48 years old, I turned 48. Jonathan got me a Lego Empire State Building, which I put together with his and Catherine's help. I think I could have done it alone, but it would have made them sad. I do enough of that already, though. Reba got me some books, and being completely disinterested in things political, she picked some solely on the basis of price and fancy cover typography. She actually did pretty good, although one howler that sneaked in was a thin Lewis Lapham screed from the dollar bin. I didn't have the heart to fill her in about this poltroon's gift of insensibility, so I'm still trying to figure out a suitable way to make use of it. I think back to all of those old National Geographics my mother painstakingly folded, spray-painted, and glittered to make tabletop Christmas tree decorations--maybe that would be the best and highest use for it.
There's probably other things that might be interesting, but I don't know what they are right now. SO, get back to work! (And thanks for peeking in every once in a while.)