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May 24, 2004 - Monday | 6:13 PM, CST
I was cruising around Friday night with Nathan when we met up with Marcus and Jodie. We were cruising around, minding our business and taking wonder in the joys of our collective youthful innocence when we parked alongside each other (Marcus and Jodie were in his truck, and Nathan and I were in my Bravada) outside a certain apartment of doom.
Lo and behold we looked into the brightly lit and unobstructed windows to see a pudgy bald man without a shirt fixing himself a snack. We watched as he waddled his marshmellow ass into the living room and sat down to watch something (probably disgusting) on TV. He looked up and saw our two vehicles outside, got up, and walked to the window. As he looked out, he began rubbing his right breast. When he was satisfied with whatever he was hoping to accomplish with his massage, he closed the window and turned around, bringing into view a huge mottled asscrack.
Now keep in mind that these windows have absolutely no curtains, and the inside of the apartment is lit up like the fourth of July.
He walked into the kitchen for a few moments, came back and looked out the window. He then turned around, exposing the aforementioned asscrack. Another turn-around to investigate the cars, and he turned out the lights.
And so ended our Friday night movie.
However, the next morning Bryan and I were driving around when we passed by the apartments. This time he was eating right next to the window. Shirtless except for a bra.
And Suzanne probably thought her lingerie just had bad luck with blowing away off the clothesline.
What kind of baffles me, is how in God's name do you go shopping for women's clothing in your size when you live in a whitebread redneck area like this? Does he go into Walmart every few weeks and tell the lady at the fitting rooms that he is going to a costume party?
How does he find sizes that fit? I'm sure there's a plethora of "men's size" women's clothing on the internet, but everyone knows from high school math just how illiterate he was with a computer. I can only imagine someone walking through the shoe section at Wal Mart and seeing him trying to fit his chubby feet into a pair of pumps.
"Don't look at him Timmy!" you'd say to your son.
My house has a mouse. Actually, its a hamster. But hamsters resemble mice, so I just refer to it as a mouse. Kelly's mouse, that is. And its in my house.
Now the reason there's a mouse in my house is because of a promise I made many months ago. My house was especially dirty and cluttered, and in desperation I told Kelly that if she cleaned it top to bottom, she could have a rodent of her choice. Provided she paid for it and cleaned the cage regularly.
With Kelly's recent graduation and hiring at Z's, she now had enough money to purchase the aforementioned rodent.
She came to my house Sunday morning, waking me up from a sound sleep by banging on my door.
Kelly: I'm going to Lafayette to pick up my hamster.
Me: Ok.
Kelly: What if I brought home a kitty?
Me: It would be staying at your house.
Kelly: What if I brought home a puppy?
Me: You can't afford the puppies from the pet store.
Kelly: I'd get a little puppy.
Me: A yap dog?
Kelly: Yes.
Me: It would get run over by a car.
Kelly: No, thats why they have leashes, so they don't get out in the r...
Interruping her...
Me: I would make it a point to run it over with a car.
Although I really wouldn't kill an annoying yap dog, the point was clear that Kelly was allotted a rodent and a rodent would be what she got. So now there is a rodent in my house, which I must admit is relatively cute, although I have so far kept a somewhat cold detachment to the mouse.
Kelly actually said there were firehouse hamster cages at Wal Mart, and if this is true I might be inclined to get one for it.
Its name is Charlie, by the way.
Camera is at Mom's house so I can't take a picture, I'm afraid. But if you've seen one rodent you've seen 'em all.
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