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6/18/12 Fiery Ninjas In the Pool
Hey I know, over a hundred days without a NL, now two within ten days of one another. Hey, you know what they say about consistency, hobgoblins and little minds- (BILL'S CONSISTENTLY A HOBGOBLIN TO THOSE WITH LITTLE MINDS?) You got it. Got such a positive response to the last NL- "Where the fuck you BEEN, we missed you!"- being the gist, from both friends and that great nebulous bunch of readers whom I have no idea who you are but Cthulhu bless you anyway, and it's not even up on the site yet- I'm sure Joe figured he had till Christmas at least- it motivated me to sit my ass down here more often and newsletter the fuck out of myself. And you all. Had a fucking AMAZING good time in Florida, as I said in an earlier e-mail, lots of beachy fun was had by all. Trip to Rock Hill Friday night went okay except that piece of fucking shit rubber thing under the engine- we took Annie's car- came loose again, goddamn troublesome piece of worthless fucking shit is what it is. (IT WOULDN'T BE WHERE YOU HIT THAT BUMP TOO FAST?) That bump wouldn't have woken up my fucking granny- (COULDN'T HAVE, SHE'S DEAD) -the other one- (SHE'S DEAD TOO) -that rubber thing is too fucking FRAGILE. (ANNE'S DRIVEN THAT CAR HOW MANY YEARS AND NEVER KNOCKED IT LOOSE, YOU'vE KNOCKED IT LOOSE HOW MANY TIMES NOW?) In case you weren't listening earlier, IT'S TOO FUCKING FRAGILE. Anyway, stayed Friday night with Aline, everyone had to stop by and meet Anne (except that weasel turd Tracy, thankfully, although he showed up yesterday and Jesus do I hate that useless two legged chancre, it pisses me off just to look at his weasel faced ass- and his ass faced weasel for that matter, FUCK I can't stand him, I really can't), she- we're back talking about Anne, sorry about that anti-Tracy tangent but goddamn I hate that greasy little fucker, if someone said "I'll give you five dollars to pop his fucking head off" I'd say "Give me one and keep the change" - got a big thumbs up, Aline fed us breakfast Saturday morning and loaded us down with stuff for the road- doughnuts, peanut butter cups, bananas- it's an old southern tradition never to travel without a banana- and things were good for a while. Stopped at Sonny's BBQ in Starke, FL and got some truly excellent beef brisket, stopped on the way back through and got some even better pulled pork, best I've ever had. Good, good eats. Then, just a couple miles later- you guessed it- that damn rubber thing came loose again and this time it's dragging on the road and making a horrible noise and smoking, it smells like a truck going downhill with his brakes all burned out- Bill: I'm gonna drive this car into a fucking tree, that'll fix
it! And it did. Together we crawled up under there- that fucking Charger sits RIGHT on the damn ground, there's hardly any room for a person to squinch up under it with one arm, and no way to do it with both, and it was a two handed job- and zip tied that oh so fucking fragile rubber thing back up, and it held for the rest of the trip. Good thinking, Annie. But running that car into a tree would have felt so good. (YEAH, BRIEFLY) If you ever drive FL 301 be careful cos there's a couple of notorious speed trap towns along it, so much so that there are actually billboards warning you of them- Lawty and Waldo- (ISN'T THAT THE BUNKHOUSE BOYS?) -might be . . . anyway, we stopped in Lawty to piss and buy a lottery ticket and sure enough as soon as we pull in there's a Lawty cop pulling someone over in the parking lot behind us. As I was not the one who had to either piss or buy a lottery ticket I was standing beside the car stretching my legs and so gave the Lawty cop the hairy eyeball when he got out of his cruiser. Fuck his punk ass, for real. He noticed, and gave it back to me. I noticed he noticed, and gave him back the SUPER hairy eyeball, along with a contemptuous sneer that conveyed (I hope) "you're a fucking punk ass". Cos he is. And don't say, "It's just his job" because if you have a punk ass job, you're a fucking punk ass for doing it. And running a speed trap is a fucking punk ass job. I like Florida, but I also hate Florida. (WOW, IMAGINE THAT) It's not just that's it's so far away, its that once you get there- it's still so far away. I mean, you drive and you drive and you fucking drive and then you get to Florida and you think, thank God, I'm almost there- and then you have to drive and drive and fucking DRIVE to get to wherever in Florida it is you're going. Plus people in Florida can't drive for shit. On the one hand you got fucking Skeezix wanting to piss along on I-Whatever at fifty miles an hour, and on the other this Big Daddy Roth monstrosity with his three foot tongue flapping in the wind, doing 110 as he drives on the berm. And it seems like Skeezix is always in front of you and Big Daddy right behind. Did I say last issue our condo was nice? Fucking hell, it was POSH, and legit bigger than our house (I say our cos I now live here). We could have fit the whole Movie Club in there and not been crowded (or even noticed they were there). (I'M SURE THEY'RE ALL ASKING RIGHT NOW 'SO WHY DIDN'T YOU?') I'd be. And so followed a week of beachy fun. Anne got up early Monday morning- Bill didn't- and rented us a couple of the really nice big, padded wooden lounge chairs already on the beach with accompanying big ass umnbrella and each day we'd get up, have mimosas for breakfast, a beach tradition started by the so very much missed Doug Moore when he and Loretta and I went to the beach back in '85 (there is NO fucking way that was 27 years ago) then go down to the beach, swim, ride the raft, sun (I got a nice tan, check me out sometime), sit on the aforementioned posh chairs under same big ass umbrella and read and doze (and make lists, one to follow)- fucking wonderful. Wonderful. To say Annie looked sumptuous in her new bathing suit would be to overstate the obvious. (HOW'D YOU LOOK?) Sumptuous too. In a manly way. (IN THE SWIM TRUNKS RON GAVE YOU) Is there any other kind? Went out to eat some- had some good seafood although if you can't stand noise and crowds- and I can't- stay the fuck way from Crabby Billy's, although the food was fine. Other than out to eat the only place we went was the Tampa Aquarium (nice enough but not worth what they charge), we stopped in Rock Hill last night on our way back, had a cook out at Mike and Teresa's (and a nice pontoon boat ride after), while in the garage/party room Teresa- sweet, sweet girl, for real- was hugging Anne and thanking her for making Bill so happy (who, me?), Mike and Don and I were hanging outside where Mike asked me- Mike: So, you do anything exciting at the beach? Reason #1 Why Anne May Not Be Perfect But She's Definitely Perfect For Bill- Sunday evening at the beach- Anne: I'm going to go and check out those shops down on the
boardwalk. Why don't you stay here and drink your beer and read
those graphic novels you brought? Reason #2- later Anne: I know you said you didn't want anything but there was this cigar shop and I thought you might like to smoke a cigar out on the deck with your beer so I picked you up a couple cigars. . . . A Monte Cristo Robusto Grande (robusto grande genuinely being her pet name for me, delusional or no) and a Siglo IV. How lucky can one guy fucking get. Man, I love this girl. We had a great vacation. Oh yeah, one of the lists I made under the umbrella- Bill's Beach Trips- 1972- Ocean City, MD (although the first time I tasted salt water was earlier that summer when I jumped in the Med fully clothed while on the Isle of Capri- yes, I did, and do, get around). 1974- Ocean City, MD/Jupiter Beach, FL, 1976- Daytona Beach, FL, 1978- Carolina Beach, NC/West Palm Beach, FL, 1979- Carolina Beach, NC, 1981- Carolina Beach, NC., 1983- Carolina Beach, NC, 1985- Outer Banks, NC, 1986- Outer Banks, NC, 1987- Outer Banks, NC, 1987- Outer Banks, NC, 1997- Outer Banks, NC, 1998- Outer Banks, NC, 2005- Dar es Salaam,Tanzania (although I barely waded out knee deep in that foul and shark infested water, a beach trip it still was), 2008- Caye Caulker, Belize, 2009- Cocoa Beach, FL, 2010- San Carlos, Mexico, 2011- San Carlos, Mexico, 2012- Madeira Beach, FL. So there. Vergara's ex accused of orgies. You read it here first. Maybe. And no, I can't imagine. Didn't do a mail bag this issue but I did get a couple "Is Ronnie real?" queries from what I assume are fairly new readers- he's far too real trust me, you guys just get the funny stuff, day in day out he's a pissy retard pain in the ass and I genuinely do not like him- but also some requests for Funny Shit That Ronnie says, so- One day the week before last NL I was cutting grass up in the circle (where Ronnie fears to tread) and out of the corner of my eye I saw this pick up truck go around the circle. Barely saw that, but later Ronnie's crazy nosy ass comes driving up- Ronnie: You see that pick up truck! That's a genuine conversation. Think about it. What's Bill drinking?
I'm better. Imagine I'll get pounded tomorrow (Monday) night at the Boulevard do, maybe rest up a bit Tuesday night . . . or not, it's all good. It really is. I'm out of here. Got a beautiful woman to crawl into bed with. Later Bill
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I'm the burning bush 
Beer, and lots of it. Figures, I go pretty much dry the whole
time at the beach when I have all the time in the world to do
whatever the fuck I want, can sleep till noon then go down and sleep
on the beach till six, then I get back here, got to get up for work
early tomorrow for that damn main library (too much like WORK), just
busy as fuck the next two days then off again- I know, my life is
rough- to scourge Canada, don't really have time right now to get
pounded, and the fucking thirst is on me. Drinking up the beer left
over from the beach- yes, I know, Bill brought beer back from the
beach, used to be we'd have to stop a time or two on the way back
for Bill to buy more beer for the ride (and scarily, drive) home-
plus what was here in the refrigerator (I know, there was beer left
in the refrigerator- folks, I'm not the man I used to be). 