www.robsherwood.com
What's Wrong With Me?
Posted by Rob Sherwood • Thursday, 2008-June-26 • 16:07
Sorry for the lack of Bloggin even though I had every intention of being here regularly this month. Last week I was so overcome with ennui that I just had to go somewhere. There is nothing I like better than temps in the 90's and humidity of at least 140 percent. Key West!
What I needed was a week or so of lounging on a chaize and watching the palmetto bugs steal the patio furniture. Key West in the summer is NOT the tourist season. The local clubs are loaded with locals and tourists too poor to visit in the winter. I knew I was in trouble when I invited some strangers to hang at my place. I just made a batch of pickle-juice popsicles (you have to churn them three or four times BEFORE inserting the stick) and without a pool or patio furniture there was nothing to do but sample my frozen delights and drink alcohol. The only thing I had to drink were a couple of dozen bottles of Miller Chill. Between the pickle-juice and the lime beer there was more puckering on my patio then at a Best Buns Contest on Castro Street in SF.
I learned at my Mother's knee or some other low-down joint, not to mix booze and since I was already 120 percent in the bag I agreed to go out. It was either hang with my new friends or the palmetto bugs so I ended up at some bar. Bars don't have a great attraction for me. I especially eschew bars where there is squeeling. There was more squeeling at this bar than at a Hormel Plant or a Best Buns Contest, for that matter. Since it was the "off" season, the buns weren't the best and the squeels were often those of disappointment. It sounded like Clay Aiken at a Little Oscar Buffet.
Eventually, I got home, finished off my last 2 bottles of Chill and rode my bed until I passed out. When I awoke six hours later, the palmetto's had rented a Ryder truck and cleaned out my place except my bed and refrigerator. All that was left was a half row of Saltines and a can of Vienna Sausages. They made be extremely self-concious and before I finished them I was squealing like George Michael when he sees a highway rest-stop exit sign.
I will be home next week just in time for the tourist season in Duluth. This year summer is on July 16th and I don't want to miss it. Watching the uninitiated go swimming in the always-cold Lake Superior is special. There's more shrinkage on Park Point beach then there is in Barry Bonds jock-strap. All that squealing makes me think of Key West.
Take care....
Rob
What I needed was a week or so of lounging on a chaize and watching the palmetto bugs steal the patio furniture. Key West in the summer is NOT the tourist season. The local clubs are loaded with locals and tourists too poor to visit in the winter. I knew I was in trouble when I invited some strangers to hang at my place. I just made a batch of pickle-juice popsicles (you have to churn them three or four times BEFORE inserting the stick) and without a pool or patio furniture there was nothing to do but sample my frozen delights and drink alcohol. The only thing I had to drink were a couple of dozen bottles of Miller Chill. Between the pickle-juice and the lime beer there was more puckering on my patio then at a Best Buns Contest on Castro Street in SF.
I learned at my Mother's knee or some other low-down joint, not to mix booze and since I was already 120 percent in the bag I agreed to go out. It was either hang with my new friends or the palmetto bugs so I ended up at some bar. Bars don't have a great attraction for me. I especially eschew bars where there is squeeling. There was more squeeling at this bar than at a Hormel Plant or a Best Buns Contest, for that matter. Since it was the "off" season, the buns weren't the best and the squeels were often those of disappointment. It sounded like Clay Aiken at a Little Oscar Buffet.
Eventually, I got home, finished off my last 2 bottles of Chill and rode my bed until I passed out. When I awoke six hours later, the palmetto's had rented a Ryder truck and cleaned out my place except my bed and refrigerator. All that was left was a half row of Saltines and a can of Vienna Sausages. They made be extremely self-concious and before I finished them I was squealing like George Michael when he sees a highway rest-stop exit sign.
I will be home next week just in time for the tourist season in Duluth. This year summer is on July 16th and I don't want to miss it. Watching the uninitiated go swimming in the always-cold Lake Superior is special. There's more shrinkage on Park Point beach then there is in Barry Bonds jock-strap. All that squealing makes me think of Key West.
Take care....
Rob
Post reply
Archive