“It’s a really nice little forklift."

The Welder texted me last night. Someone gave him a forklift. I told him that was fucked up. His reply?

“It’s a really nice little forklift. What the fuck are you doing?”

Good point.

Yeah, Sorry

Just before I fell asleep last night I was thinking about how I feel as though someone has come along and squeezed all the liquid from me that would normally form writing. It’s like someone pressed it all into a glass then took that glass and smashed it on the edge of a table so that all the writing milk ran onto the floor and a cat came along to lick it up but stepped in a shard and cut its paw and left bloody tracks on its way out the door…

Then I fell asleep thinking about how that metaphor was disgusting.

They Even Gave Him Sexy Lighting

SF for the Fucked Up Text Message Win: iqk

Night before…2:22 a.m.

Silver Fox: “To you to I was just in a strange abandoned lot it her scary towards comey iqk”

McBickle: “You ok? Your msg was a little garbled.”

Silver Fox: “Yeah I will fill you in tomorrow unless [REDACTED]”

McBickle: “Ha. In bed reading about Freud.”


Next day…11:40 a.m.

Silver Fox: “Oof I am never drinking in a sauna again.”

‘Gambling Is Super Weird’

So Mr. and Mrs. Ladyfriend went to Vegas. Not by choice, per se. (Cue: Guns blazing! Kidnapped and forced to gamble! Massive casino heist!) Mza and I discussed the oddity of Mr. Ladyfriend in the grossglitz of that crazyland, with his ever-serious face and elegant gestures.

She made it all make sense, however, with this proclamation: “He does skew rat-packy,” she said.

And now from Mrs. Ladyfriend:

Mrs. Ladyfriend: He plays poker, and he played in Vegas. Two nights in a row until like, 4:30 a.m.

McBickle: Oh man.

Mrs. Ladyfriend: But he won money, so that's good.

Mrs. Ladyfriend: He came back, and threw hundreds at me and said, "Buy something frivolous!"

McBickle: Noooooo. Nooooooo.

Mrs. Ladyfriend: Right?! So funny.

McBickle: He WON?

Mrs. Ladyfriend: Yep.

McBickle: Nice!

Mrs. Ladyfriend: Yea. He's really good at poker, and poker is more skill-based, less luck.

McBickle: How much did he win?

Mrs. Ladyfriend: Wellll, the first night, he won $200.

McBickle: Wow.

Mrs. Ladyfriend: But then the second night, he lost $100 of that $200. So for the whole weekend, he's up 100. (I got to keep it.)

Mrs. Ladyfriend: Anyway, it was hilarious. He had such a swagger and he smelled like gin and cigarettes and money.

Mrs. Ladyfriend: I was like, you must shower before you get into bed with me. Then the next night it was the exact opposite.

McBickle: This is killing me.

Mrs. Ladyfriend: He lost $100, some guy mocked him for some bet, and he came home sulking, and like, crawled into bed.  

I Worry More About My Other Friends, To Be Honest

Silver Fox: Hmmm…so I’m logged into my Gmail account I’m using for this new part-time gig, and I noticed myself in the chat window and I started texting myself back and forth. Is that a sign of insanity?

Silver Fox: “And how are you today, Silver Fox?”

  “Good, Silver Fox. How are you?”

  “Good! What’s new with you?”

  “Wish I could say! You?”

  “Same!”

  It was upsetting to say the least.

UPDATE:

McBickle: Mrs. Ladyfriend says she too has chatted with herself. What is wrong with you people.

Silver Fox:  It's perfectly normal, and it won't make you blind.

Stripping Down on a Sunday Eve

Nothing like the pain of the past. The one you think you left behind as you watched the people grow and live, gain years and wither. I realized today that the 1970s will carry the emotional cues—songs, shorts, TV shows gleaned and weaned in the only early years. And tonight, the M*A*S*H episode where Henry Blake dies in a helicopter over the Asian seas after he was discharged, sent from war to the hearth, the midlands, heartlands, the warmth, the nonwar. I cried for my father, my uncle I will lose. For the pain of warmth and cold, love and goodbye, love and death. I watched aware from the beginning credits that this is the most pain one can provide: childhood, love, death, and connection. I watched it aware. And it hurt.