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| February 3, 1997 |
Circulation 58 |
Vol. 1, No. 16 |
SAND ON THE BEACH: Thinkin'
ahead to summer vacation? ... naw ... thinkin' 'bout my
closet ... I was bein' laundry man again ... down to a
few sweat type items of wifey-poo origin ... normally
I'd a found some place with a space 'n stuck 'em in ...
she'd a had to go huntin' for 'em ... but at this particular
moment she was standin' there doin' her hair so I asked
her where they went ... she motioned to the closet 'n
said "down there on the floor on the stack of exercise
stuff" ... our closet's not all that big ... it's
a walk in ... (at least now it is after some major cleanin')
... the clothes go down one side 'n a couple feet more
'cross the end ... it's been a silent agreement that the
first half is hers 'n the back half's mine ... the border's
marked by my tie hook ... durin' all the cleanin' process
I've been radically eliminatin' my wardrobe ... it was
beginnin' to resemble a thrift shop ... I coulda got some
of those circular things that go over the bar ... you
know ... those things that show the sizes? ... I'd a had
a section marked 32 ... another 34 ... finally some 36's
... (it took me several years of tryin' to button the
fly on some 34 Levi's before I finally caved in to admittin'
I should get a 36) ... I really don't think I'm gettin'
any bigger ... I think we're jes' exportin' too much manufacturin'
... the workers we're exploitin' are gettin' their revenge
... quietly makin' the pants smaller in the waist ...
ya that's it! ... I haven't gained any inches! ... it's
a conspiracy! ... I got tired of these items mockin' me
everyday ... I hauled all the clothes out 'n now some
other poor devil can enjoy my green polyester leisure
suit with the brown polka-dotted polyester shirt ... the
thing was like brand new! ... this meant that I now had
space in my half ... no more usin' a shoe horn to hang
clothes up ... (it also meant I didn't have anything to
wear but at least I was comfortable) ... it was subtle
at first ... I thought my tie hook had moved down the
rod a bit ... one day I caught one of her outfits hangin'
on my side of the ties ... nature abhors a vacuum ...
pressure always equalizes ... I am diligent in my defense
of the border ... I keep pushin' the crush of clothes
back ... makin' sure mine have some room to breathe ...
imagine my surprise when I locate the stack of exercise
clothes ... under my clothes past the border! ... I leapt
to my feet ... came out of the closet ... (wait a minute
... I didn't mean it quite like that!) ... 'n confronted
her about the blatant trespasssin' ... she looked at me
calmly 'n replied "it's like sand on the beach, if
you dig a hole but don't leave something in it then it
just fills back up!" ... so that's how she wants
to play is it ... female logic against the truth!?!?!
... time to go to the toy store ... buy a pack of those
little soldiers ... set 'em up to protect the DMZ ...
keep North Closet from overrunnin' South Closet ... maybe
it's time to call the UN!
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FASTIN': I'm starvin' ... I've
got the first part of my physical today ... all the preliminary
blood work ... EKG ... the dreaded scale ... can't have
anything to eat or drink for 12 hours ... I can't stand
it ... I'm thinkin' of callin' Sally Struthers ... have
her send me some food ... wait a minute! ... I normally
don't eat for this long every day! ... oh ... never mind
... "No, that's OK Ms. Struthers, I don't need the
food now, you can go ahead 'n eat my portion."
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FOR THE WANT OF A SPOON: First
of all ... don't do this ... don't go drivin' 'round eatin'
a pint o' ice cream in the car ... second of all ... when
you're done don't put the spoons ... ('specially the metal
ones you wanna keep) ... on the dashboard ... guess what
... there's places for them to go when you stop ... like
down the defrost vent! ... I won't name any names but
they know who they are! ... the solution? ... stop in
at a restaurant 'n order Soup du Jour ... viola ... replacement
spoon secured! ... all I'm thinkin' is that some day some
poor mechanic's gonna be tryin' to isolate the rattle
the car owner keeps complainin' 'bout ... then they're
gonna have to take the entire dash apart to get to the
stinkin' spoon! ... glad it's not mine ... 'course a spoon
in the vent beats a rod in the engine any day!
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"You don't know how hot the
grease is 'til it pops up on you!" -- Mama, Playin'
It Where It Lies
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| Mikey's Muse(tm)
is published weekdays as a commentary on stuff. Editor,
Michael T. Rusk. Copyright © 1997 by Michael T. Rusk.
Printed in the U.S.A. This publication may be distributed
freely as long as there is no charge. Commentary is loosely
based on actual events and may contain embellishments,
bits of fiction, and editorial liberties (lies) under
the guise of poetic license. All characters portrayed
in my writing are purely fictional and any resemblance
to any person, company or animal is purely unintentional.
If you don't get it, you just don't get it. Don't blame
me for anything I say and don't do anything I say, either.
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