I’m ridiculously tires, so try not to believe very much of this post. Presumably about 50% may be believable.
But first the good news: I had twins today! I mean my wife had twins today, I just had fun building them. But Steve you’re not even married. Oh! Well maybe somebody else had twins today – congratulations whoever you are. Joking about babies isn’t funny at all. I know what if karma kicks me in the nethers and my girlfriend comes home and says she’s pregnant. GULP! Double-GULP! mmmm double gulps, 7-11 and big bites and stuff. Ok, girlfriend please don’t be pregnant. I’ll still love you if are, but let’s be honest we’re not quite ready yet. But Steve you don’t have a girlfriend. Gee Thanks for rubbing that in.
OK, so I’m still in Mt. Pleasant and although I’m loving sleeping in the bestest bed west of D-town, mine, I’m ready to hit the road again. Monday morning and I’m off. Until then I’ll have to suffer through one more Detroit Tigers game (it’s been suicidally bad the past three days/games).
I’m pretty sure that at the moment I’m not smarter than a 5th grader, but I could beat the tar out of them if I had too. That’s not funny – picking on children, shame on you. It’s raining in Baltimore, just thought you’d like to know.
OK I really need to sleep now – I’m making nonsense – this post is in no way associated with the real road poet. He’s safely stuffed in the storage of my ‘73 VW wagavan. I didn’t realize poets were that flexible. Actually he’d take offense to me calling him a poet – I can hear him now – “I’m not a poet, right now I’m just a guy who writes poetry who is becoming a poet.” Why is it always about transitions with him?
If you’ve stuck in this long you may be crazier than I am – and you owe me a comment. Yeah you know who you are.
spaghetti.
