Satin Jackets, Tractor Tires and Sgt. Peppers

I finished my walk this morning just as the skies opened up, dumping buckets of rain down on the holler. I love big storms. I wanted to kick off my shoes, run back out the door and frolic in the rain amongst the daffodils, but Bossman told me to get to work.

No time for dilly dallying at month end.


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Those of you who were around back in September will remember my post "County Fairs, Eddie Izzard and the Beatles," when I shared my discovery of the movie, "Across the Universe." In it, I mentioned my love for the cheesy musical "Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band." We had to go see it back in '78 when my best friend Mary Lamm heard Aerosmith was making an appearance. She had crushes on both Steven Tyler and Barry Manilow... simultaneously. Go figure.

Anywho...

So the Amazon added it to he Netflix list when, for the gazillionth time, I hinted that I'd like to see it again and last night we settled in for a night of BeeGees, Peter Frampton and George Burns. We discussed the differences between the two movies, pointed out the similarities and added our own punch lines here and there. I even admitted to owning a white satin jacket with an airbrushed, winged unicorn on the back at around the time the movie came out.

The Amazon found that last little tidbit ridiculously funny.


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Yesterday I had planned to go home after work, change clothes and hit the yard for some spring cleaning. We have three tractor tire planters in our yard, in front of our trailer (you might be a redneck) and they've been full of weeds for the past few years. I just couldn't bring myself to embrace the trailer trashedness of it all until now... but hell.. what else am I going to do with them? The dump won't take tires, so I may as well clean them out, dump some wildflower seeds in there and maybe stick my make-shift birdbath in one. I'll draw the line at spray painting the tires to match the trailer, although it seems to be the thing to do here in the holler.

I only had time to get one tire cleaned out though, I got off to a late start. Uncle Barney and his future son-in-law (the New Yorker my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye picked up on the internet) were playing NASCAR in the front yard with riding lawn mowers. I probably could have been a little less anti-social and gone out there while they mowed, but I'm pretty sure I saw a flask tucked in Uncle Barney's grass covered sports sock, which most likely contained a few ounces of his home brewed blackberry wine.

You really don't wanna get in the way of a drunken, mowing hillbilly... and I suspect a drunken mowing New Yorker can't be much safer.

Ah well.. it's Friday ya'll. I'm planning a quiet day at the Asylum, shuffling paper playing catch up. Bossman is leaving early, so I'm working over a little this afternoon, just so there's someone to answer the phone. Ya never know, that next phone call might just be the next big customer.

Hang in there, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!