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A Good Thursday Evening, MyBloggerstown
It was a beautiful day, weatherwise today here in Devil's Asshole. The municiple pools (we have three of them) all opened up on Memorial Day, thus ushering in the official beginning of summer. I remember spending many a summer day just hanging out at the pool, getting a sun stroke, nibbling on big pretzel sticks with mustard on them, washing them down with a snow cone, stepping on used gum wads, and reading dirty passages on the walls in the bathroom (yes...the GIRLS bathroom). One memorable missive went as follows: "Dear(fill in name of enemy)- I took up for you today. Someone said you ate shit sandwiches and I said you didn't like bread." I wonder what comically gifted genius came up with THAT knee slapper? ( Bugg looks about, sticks hands in pockets, whistles and tries to appear nonchalant). We'd sit around, trying to pretend like we had boobs while my brother and is snot nozed idiot pals showed off on the diving board. From time to time some younger desparate twerp with no taste who was outside of my immediate gaggle of associates would remark, "Bubba Whoozits is your BROTHER? Ooooo he's sooo cuuuute!!" At which point I would say "ewww" or "gag a maggot" or some other witty bon mot and make gagging signs. Some people just had no standards. The red highlights in my hair turned to flame from the tons of chlorine in the pool and our eyes were so red we looked like we were on month long drunks. Then of course there were the days when Bubba had baseball games. Crazy Sis and I were in charge of hanging the numbers on the scoreboard. We got to sit up high on the catwalk and watch all the action from a fairly decent cat bird seat. Crazy Sis had a mad crush on the coach's son who was a stuck up little puke...and remained so all through high school and pro'ly still is to this day. In the late evening it would be way too hot to sleep and we'd sit out on the porch and get one last breeze, if there was one, before retiring. Many times I'd go out and lie on the hood of Daddy's car and gaze up at the stars wondering who or what was out there and imagine sci-fi fantasies based on my rabid consumption of numerous novels and "B" movies. Eventually, Daddy would come out and yell at me to get the hell off the car before I put a dent in the hood and Mama would yell at me to come in the house before I got kidnapped. And so ended a typical summer day for yer own Bugg circa 1968 or so. It was only last year, wasn't it?
reguards
yer I can't be almost 55 pal
bugg
Talk about mugging a good word!
