Thursday, April 21, 2005

The Fleas And The Spare Tire Just Aren't Leaving [Exclusive]

Today has been one of those days when the dog can scratch all he wants but the fleas just ain’t leaving. One of my associates dropped by to ask me to extricate some information from one of the machines I program at work. Well boys, it would’ve been more fun to tame a wild bull than try to figure out why this thing just won’t talk. I even called the highly educated boys up at headquarters and they scratched and sniffed till I figured the machine couldn’t take any more. So here I am at sundown still working on this mess of fleas and they still ain’t jumping ship. And to beat all one of the other machines decided to take an unexpected sick leave that’s confounding the boys in the shop too. If these machines were an old horse we’d have to take them out back and shoot them. But since these electromechanical beasts seem to be our source of income we’ll keep digging in this mud hole looking for worms that just aren’t there.

On the good side of the news I did get to exercise my self appointed role of teaching these fine folks the refined Southern ways. I dropped by the watering hole at work to shuck a little corn (that’s talk for you non-Southerners). The boys were listening to me talk and commenced to discussing the true English that they seem to label as a Southern accent. Well, that talk shifted to the inability to find vital ingredients to prepare the fine Southern cuisine. At least from my point of view which is the most important view to these writings since that is the angle from which they were written. I did get concerned with their blasphemy when they mentioned their disdain for one of the healthiest food groups otherwise known as okra. Now I was somewhat surprised that while they were eager to proclaim their opinion it was quite evident not many had ever eaten any okra. So I figured they hadn’t read my earlier thoughts and discussions on the delights of treating yourself to a good bowl of succotash. I still ain’t figured out how these boys ever grew up without eating a real meal.

Today my lovely better half was kind enough to bring me lunch because my battle with the beasts had even forbade me the opportunity to make my mid-day trip to the house for lunch. Seeing as how I was supposed to be in this meeting to again discuss the things we’re planning to do but ain’t got done, I had to partake of my meal in front of a bunch of the guys. But the group did include one young lady who is passing a short bit of time in our facility learning how to one day be our boss. Well I was feeling kind of bad because this food was really smelling up the place and working up an appetite in the group. Recollecting I don’t usually eat my fries I figured I would offer them up as a sacrifice to ward off the wolves. Well the young lady accepted my offer to take on the fries. Now folks if this gal was any skinnier we’d have to explain to the officials why her ribs was showing. Most people that reach my age can usually avoid eating and just sniff the food to absorb all the calories. And then our bodies do us the favor of storing up all that extra intake just so we don’t risk the remote possibility of starvation. But this gal, she ate everyone of those fries without flinching and it seemed as if they burned calories instead of adding calories. Now I’m sitting here feeling bad that I had even ate one of those prefabricated sandwiches and this girl could wharf down a box of pure American starch packaged in a shiny coating of 30 wt without even giving a concern to the results. I guess that about goes to the same reason I ain’t living in a Beverly Hills mansion either.

Well folks that wraps up my summary of a Southern boy surviving the wilds in North Central Ohio. If you ain’t doing anything Saturday how about dropping by and helping me shovel a little snow.