Holy Moly BatMan/Woman, this ain’t Kansas anymore. Up north here I come. Girlfriends, older than dirt arrived last night, and ready for a roadtrip. Friends guarding my ‘fort’ and pets. Weather super duper. OH YIPPPeeee.
My friend Carol, gave a great ‘one liner’ last night in reference to some man I think we knew when we were babies, (at least that long ago) Maybe she was referring to one of the Tigers Or Giants last night…Whatever the reference, I laughed good n’ hard. I decide I would let it inspire me this morning. I realize it might be one of those lines ya had to be here for to fully appreciate. What-ever… right?
“He wouldn’t know his ass if he had his hands all over it.”
He was all tucked into his tight baby blue cotton game suit
Cap pulled down tight on that big ol’ lumberjack head
Number 007, chewing on some God awful piece of something dead
Chunked up in the corner of his mouth like a squirrel
Harboring up winter’s meal in its lil’ squirrelly cheeks.
Movin’ his mouth like a cow on it’s cud in heat
Spittin’ and sprayin bits of bone and sinew out the corner of his mouth
I was hopin’ it would rupture out his nose and hurt.
He was ready, rotating his spiked shoes into the dirt
Rolling on that dead thing in his mouth with his tongue
Swiveling his ass with the bat held high quivering to meet that ball
He was ready to place all 90 miles an hour of orbital rotation right out the park.
“Hit the frickin’ thing, knock that S.O.B outta the park. Send it to heaven.”
Oh ya, we were screamin’, yellin’ hard on the edge of seats, hearts racing.
“Now or never damn it, yer the man, bring’em on home baby.”