Monday, May 23, 2005

The neighborhood eyesore

Our neighborhood eyesore (eyesoar? eh, fuck it) isn't the normal eye sore. It isn't someone who leaves abandoned cars in their front yard. It isn't someone who does mow their yard. It isn't even some weird cat lady that has decorated her house in Cambell's soup labels.

Our neighborhood eye sore shows up around the first nice day of the year and ends when it becomes jacket weather.

Yes, our neighborhood eye sore is a 350 pound man who thinks he is just sooooooooo sexy.

He wears these little short-shorts which were probably popular when he was a teenager-I'm guessing the 70's, since he is around 50 years old now. Of course these atrocious shorts are not adorned with any other piece of clothing.

He also retired last year, and works in his yard constantly. He gives off that dirty old man vibe-like he is staring at your breasts the entire time you talk to him.

This man really thinks he's hot, even with his beer belly that pretty much covers the entire front of his 70's short shorts. I just looked outside and I believe I'm going to be blind for a couple of minutes, as he was bending over putting some elaborate flag decoration up in his yard.

God, please get me through this summer...

Monday, May 02, 2005

Road trip!

So this weekend was our annual road trip with my cousin, the professional poker player.

The cirlce of soul mates and I took off for jolly old Tunica MS to get the royal treatment, have fun, drink, party, gamble, eat, and just about any other decadent thing that we could do.

It's a good thing that we didn't go to Vegas this year, because as you know, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. What happens in Tunica is written about in my blog for all to hear....

It never ceases to amaze me how some people live their lives. I say this because my cousin is treated real, real well by these casino establishments, because of the amount of money he gambles. Hell, it isn't his money. He gets investors and he gambles their money.

I don't know about you, but at my school "professional gambler" was not on the list during career day...

So we stayed in a couple of rooms that were bigger then my house. We had facials and steams and pedicures and facials and manicures and massages. All for free. They sent up big baskets of fruit and wine and cheese and pretty much anything our little hearts desired-for free.

Why do they give rich people all the free shit? That is REALLY what I would like to know. I'm not a real materialistic person, but damn could I get used to living like that...

We had a wonderful time, didn't get in any trouble which either means it's the seventh sign, or we are growing up. I prefer to think it is the seventh sign!