A Day In The Life, or Necks to Connors

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So.

It's been awhile.

How y'all doin'?

Yeah, I've been kinda remiss lately with my musings.

I mean, well, of course I still MUSE, duh!

I mean, I've been kinda remiss lately with my WRITTEN musings!

And believe me you, it ain't that I got nothin' to write about.

Lord have mercy, I have more fables to tell than Aesop his damn self.

Honestly, I think that I have the opposite of writer's block sometimes.

Sometimes, I have SO VERY MANY tales from my little poop deck...far too many in fact.

I often wonder if my stories read as hilarious as they play out in real life.

I've been thinking that perhaps I need to offer a 'play-by-play', kinda like a screenplay (which, while I'm pondering, I've always wondered why the heck Affleck/Damon named their prize winning screenplay "Good Will Hunting" when his name wasn't Hunting and I'm not so sure he was all that Good but perhaps I've missed something even though I've watched that movie at least eleventeen times), rather than narrating.

So.


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This evening, in the kitchen of the mother ship (or, as I just googled it, one might say, La Cucina de Sparrow), there were a bevy of scalawags joining us for mess.

And what a mess 'twas. Not just in the literal sense.

The ensuing conversation(s) reminded me of a Connors/McEnroe Wimbeldon match, with equal amounts of foulness on both sides of the net, some grass stains here and there, and of course, one heck of a pissed off referee. But, as always was, the spectators got their money's worth.

These are snippets of the evening, and therefore, one could present quite a convincing argument that they are reminiscent of the snippets of my life.

Perplexing to an outsider, understood by the inner circle, questioned by some, but downright hilarious to any and all who choose to see the humor in what I consider to be the molten cheeses of the 'fondue' that is my life. Sometimes it's really hot. Sometimes it will burn your damn mouth, but then again, perhaps your mouth should have heeded the warning and it wouldn't have been burned in the first damn place. Sometimes it's so damn yummy, you can't wait to sop up every last smidgen with the tossed crusts of old, hard bread. But always, yes always, there is a treat to be had. Perhaps not by all, but a treat for the having, nonetheless.

So.

I made beef stew today, from the frozen carcass of the Astatula Beef (yes, it is pronounced ASS-TAH-TOO-LAH) that currently inhabits 1.85 freezers in and around the Mother Ship. Sooooo not the point, but how could I pass up an opportunity to tell y'all about ASS-TAH-TOO-LAH beef? It ain't just good, it's damn fun to say. So HA!

So.

I had all this freaking ASS-TAH-TOO-LAH beef stew, way more for just me and the kids to devour, and Two Swords was AWL, yet unreachable, as his phone was AWOL.

Luckily, Five Head Gypsy (formerly known as Mr. Pete) used up a lifeline while trying to phone a friend, and I happened to answer the AWOL phone of Two Swords.

I realized that there was so much food, why not invite Five Head Gypsy and his brother Frodo/Freudo to sup with us?

Yeah, that was a hard sell. HA!

As darkness falls, ma cucina gets invaded with a Motley Crue of pirates.

One by one, they wash their hands, offer the requisite greeting and thanks to the chef, take their plates, and sit their asses down.

And then the fun started.

Pardon me if it's a bit difficult to follow. Again, my neck is still sprained from playing Connors/McEnroe ping-pong, and the mates left hours ago!

So.

Frodo/Freudo asks Five Head Gypsy if anybody else knew that Shane got SHOT IN THE FACE today(!).

Eleventy heads turned, and the score is now:

Fifteen-Love.

Shane, as EVERYONE should know, is our beloved Little Bean, a newly professional baseball player for an organization loved and hated by equal parts, with an affinity for pin stripes and a distaste for anything red, socked, and Southern.

And in our little teensy weensy town, he's like a rock star. Or a professional baseball player, however you rank your celebristatus.

So, for me to hear that Little Shane Bean GOT FREAKING SHOT IN THE FACE TODAY while I have a mouthful of ASS-TAH-TOO-LAH beef stew and delicious Wal-Mart baked Cuban bread (yeah, um that doesn't make any sense, I know, but yeah, it was Cuban bread, and yeah, it was baked at Wal-Mart, and yeah, it was delish, and yeah, we ate it with the ASS-TAH-TOO-LAH beef stew), and I am sitting right NEXT TO Mister Bean, who just happens to be the willing sperm donor of Little Shane Bean, who is also my Neighbor Extraordinaire (kinda like a Taco Bell Grande, but instead of nachos loaded with cheese, his refridgerators are loaded down with Bud, and instead of the jalapenos bursting out from under the chips, his pockets are always bulging with candy). I'm pretty confident this is the first time that Mr. Bean has ever been compared to a plate of nachos, but hey, it's working for me.

Ahem.

So now my mouth and eyes are bulging as my neck contorts to the McEnroe side of my monstrously mammoth kitchen island, as I await word on the fate of the face of our preciously-gorgeous, gorgeously-precious, Little Shane Bean.

No one speaks.

Dead calm.

The only sound I hear is the sound of butter being sucked off of a kitchen knife by none other than, yep, you guessed it, Guardian ad Fiend of the ICBINB buckets - Captain Jake Sparrow. (to you butter personas non knowus, ICBINB CLEARLY stands for "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter", and has been so nomenclatured due to the ease with which I require when drafting a grocery list, and since ICBINB goes BOGO (hello, BUY ONE GET ONE free) quite often at THE grocery store of the South, Publix-duh, we arrive back at our original embarkation point of ICBINB buckets being stabbed by a knife and sucked like maggots on a gangrenous leg.

Fifteen-All

Frodo/Freudo: Five Head - YOU SAID THAT TODAY! - YOU said that Little Shane Bean got shot in the face when he went hunting today!

(Note to all - it is currently NOT hunting season in West Central Florida, and there is nothing to hunt anywhere near the Mother Ship, 'cept some really bad fish, otherwise known as 'Crappies'. PHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!) (yeah, I crack myself up. that's the whole reason I have a blog! Just to laugh at my own jokes, since no one else will! HA!)

Five Head Gypsy: I NEVER said that Shane got shot in the face!

Frodo/Freudo: Yeah, MIKE, ya did! Today! Ya said, Shane went hunting with his friend, and he got shot in the face!


THIRTY-FIFTEEN

At this point, I'm beginning to understand why it is that Frodo/Freudo is actually called Frodo/Freudo instead of Stanley, because, well, just imagine this drama playing out in your very own cucina for a minute, and we're back to Connors/McEnroe all over again!

BECAUSE - Shane's Willing Sperm Donor, Mister Bean, has neither confirmed nor denied that Little Shane Bean was nor was not shot in the face TODAY whilst hunting.

Oh buoy.

I'm exhausted just replaying this!

Finally, in a Mormon Tabernacle Choir-like unison, the remaining confused patrons of La Cucina exclaim "WHAT THE?" while chewing on the loins of the ASS-TAH-TOO-LAH beef stew.

And then the Five Head Gypsy finally swallows his last bite of ASS-TAH-TOO-LAH beef and says, "HUH-MIN-UH?"

Frodo/Freudo: YA did! So. Did Shane get shot in the face today or WHAT?

Necks strained back to McEnroe.

THIRTY-ALL

Five Head Gypsy (or, FHG for short) - WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, STANLEY?

FORTY-THIRTY

Frodo/Freudo: MIKE! (I know you are dying to know who Mike is, but then again, have you figured out who Stanley is yet? Yeah. Me either. And I BROKE BREAD WITH THESE PEOPLE!)

Repeat.

Frodo/Freudo: MIKE! Did you or did you NOT say that Shane got shot in the face today?

Just as FHG is about to spill the whole 'did he or did he NOT get shot in the face TA-DAY?" beans, in walks Two Fisted Chris, aka, brother of the Hurricane, spouse of the Mermaid, and unfortunate Uncle of the Spawn.

Two Fisted Chris: Shane got shot today? I thought it was Elizabeth Edwards who died.

Hurricane: What? Elizabeth Edwards DIED? TA-DAY? She just posted on Facebook! How can she be dead TA-DAY?

Mr. Bean, Willing Sperm Donor of Poor Shot Shane: Who the hell is Elizabeth Edwards?

Butter Sucking Little Maggot of a Sparrow: She's dead. That's who she is.

Advantage-Connors

Frodo/Freudo: MIKE! Did Shane get shot in the face tuh-day like ya said, or what?

FHG: STANLEY! I never said Shane got shot in the face! 

DEUCE


FHG:  What I said was,.....I said that..........

DICK CHENEY

WENT HUNTING 

A
COUPLE
a
YEARS
AGO

AND SHOT HIS FRIEND 

IN THE FACE 

THAT'S WHAT I SAID 

STANLEY 

I NEVER SAID 

THAT SHANE 

GOT SHOT 

IN THE FACE 

TUH-DAY!

Advantage - McENROE

Frodo/Freudo:  Wasn't that like, two vice presidents ago, or something?  Why the hell were you talking about it TUH-DAY?

GAME-SET-MATCH-McEnroe

I'm exhausted from replaying this play by play.

But I am oh-so-relieved to learn that baby faced Little Shane Bean was not in fact SHOT IN THE FACE today.

Just another day in la cucina de sparrow!

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