April 23, 2006
speaking of referrals...
I also discovered this site while scrolling through my referrals today. I saw her picture, read her words, and in a fit of pure audacity, invited her to have lunch with me when she starts her classes at Georgia Southern University in August. She's liable to tell me to go perform an anatomically-impossible act upon myself, but I figured it couldn't hurt to ask.
Besides, Statesboro is only an hour's drive away from where I live and I recently took some schoolin' there myself. I didn't go to Georgia Southern. Last November, I graduated (with honors) from Willingway Academy for the Habitually Intoxicated, which also happens to be in Statesboro.
Her tuition probably is less expensive than mine was...
There's just one thing that worries me about her. She lives in Reidsville, Georgia, home to a different sort of Institution of Higher Learning, (one at which I do NOT care to study) which is the State Prison. If she agrees to meet me for lunch, I had better be on my best behavior.
Her daddy might be the warden
Worse. My daddy's a preacher.
I actually used to run that ER over there about 11-12 yrs ago. It was NEVER dull.
And I'm honored.
With all due respect, (R.N.s get major respect from me), you could insert a picture of my wife with that bio, (leaving out the happily divorced part), and my advice, a-dude, is to watch what little ass you have left.
It's down right dangerous to play in Bab's yard, I guarantee.
Reidsville is where Burt Reynolds filmed "The Longest Yard "' . My ex-wife went there in 1992 to visit her friend . She described it as being out in the sticks, very rural.
Divorced with two kids? I predict a liplock on the ole wombworm is in the offing.
Um...folks, it's just lunch....
Two actions, Acidman:
1. Be very afraid.
2. Run, as fast and as far as your gimpy legs will carry you.
Take it from the 'Ol Rivrdog, the last thing you want now is a card-carrying member of the Health Police in your life, or even on the periphery of it.
Look, at Willingway, you learned to face yourself in the mirror and admit your weaknesses.
So, take that very useful skill and front up to that looking-glass. When it has your full attention, speak plainly and say:
"I'm an old fart, I will NOT be young again. For me are reserved the pleasures of the OLD, not the pleasures of the YOUNG."
Then, mix up a nice glass of MetaMucil and quaff it, followed by your oatmeal. Shufle out to the front stoop and get your newspaper, and take it to the kitchen where you read and sip your tea while grousing at the absurd antics of politicians, youth and especially Hollywood. Then do your dishes, then it's time for your morning nap.
Whatever you do, do not let the Health Police anywhere near the Crackerbox.
Next thing you know, she'll bat those Georgia eyelashes at you and suggest that you take up bicycling to wipe away the ravages of the years. You will do it, of course, because she will ride her bike just ahead of yours, and you would ride to the end of the Earth to keep THAT bicycle seat in front of you.
She will murmur sweet nothings (but you probably won't hear them, as your hearing is probably gone like mine), and flash those painted toenails at you.
You will have lustful dreams, just like Jimmah from Plains.
You will follow her for the lust. She will lead you because that's what they teach them in the Health Police Academy.
You will NOT make a good pair.
Age cannot be denied.
Please don't take this as hateful, but I'm just trying to protect my BlogGranPa (I'm really older than he is, though). We curmudgeons have to stick together, ya know.
As for my remarks about Health Police, my dear wife is a member of their Reserves, and my youngest daughter is starting her last year of Med School, and my oldest daughter is an RN as well as a total fitness nut.
I'm already surrounded by the Health Police, who want to deny me even the innocent pleasures of eating a fine piece of steak or sausage, and leaving the greens to the greenies.
I don't want to live to be 85 and be miserable the last 20 years. I just want to live well up to the end, whenever it comes.
I suspect Rob is the same way.
If yout thought you had a lot of work BEFORE... just wait till old Cracker-ass shows up.
Oy. I predict death. Or happiness.
Not that this is a Bad Thing.
Health Police? Ha! I laugh as I light up...
Hun, nurses lead some of the UNhealthiest lifestyles imaginable.
Besides. It's just lunch. Area bloggers and such.
Well, if you do meet for lunch in Statesboro the only two resturaunts that allow smoking are the original El Sombrero's and the French Quarter. Sometimes Loco's Pub has smoking inside though..
I say enjoy your lunch!