RTV airs The Rockford Files every weeknight at 11 p.m. Did you ever notice that he does a "Rockford" almost every episode? You remember that, don't you? It's when he nails it in reverse, turns the steering wheel to full lock, slides the front around 180 degrees, then drops the transmission in drive and nails it. Absolutely badass. Remember Angel? The .38 snub nose in the cookie jar? Last, but not least......the gold Firebird! Jim Rockford RULES!!!
I rode a motorcycle today. Think about that for a moment, it's mid-December and I cruised around in 57 degree weather today! Regardless of your stance on global warming, it doesn't diminish the badassedness of redlining 6 gears in rapid succession. As with all things, there is a Yin-Yang relationship in play. The weather will more than likely suck for the next four months straight. Dammit!
The woman in front of me trudged along slowly, her arms full of plastic bags and winter coats. Her children grabbed at the shelves and begged for items every few feet. She looked up and flashed me a weary smile. I smiled back. My mind drifted back to my own childhood. Mom was rolling me along in the shopping cart. I was facing her, my legs hanging out the holes on the back of the cart. She was 23 and had four children. I was quite sure that I was her favorite. Many years later, my brothers told me they were sure that they were her favorite.
The Rottweiler stood above me and glared. I squinted and tried to focus through one eye. Her intensely focused thought processes were burning right through my eyelids. Yup, she wanted to go out. I hopped out of the bed and walked toward the back door, banging into various pieces of furniture and cussing sporadically. I put on my sunglasses and opened the back door. She flew past me and directly to her favorite patch of grass.
My first memory of speed happened on a BSA. My cousin had just come back from Vietnam. He hopped on the bike and asked if I wanted a ride. I looked at Dad, he nodded and I was off. I was so small that I had to ride in front, straddling the front of the seat and holding onto the gas tank with both arms. The only things in front of me were chrome gauges and the open road. Lannie took off fast and redlined each gear. I looked down and saw 100 mph come and go on the speedometer.
The cowboy rolled up his wool blanket and fashioned a make-shift pillow. He placed it against a rock, leaned back and stared up at the millions of stars above him. The Mojave truly was beautiful to behold. In the distance, a lone coyote howled. This could be a lonely, solitary place.Then his horse straddled and peed on him.
As I sit here in the Rock Penthouse I can't help but admire the formidable athleticism displayed by strippers across the world everyday. Have you ever tried to just spin on one of those stripper poles? I had one installed here in the studio (just in case) a few months back. I tried it a few minutes ago and now I'm quite sure that I've relocated my left testicle. I guess it's good that strippers have indoor plumbing. External genitalia is cumbersome at best when attempting those maneuvers. I've gotta go, my thang hurts.
My Rottweiler just passed gas. I don't think you understand, when this dog flatulates the room becomes enveloped in a dense fog of gnarly funk and I have to stop, drop and roll...just to survive. The curtains burst into flames and the satellite TV gets fuzzy for a minute. Once I crawl my way blindly to the back door, I have to reach up, into the death gas, and feel for the door knob. I'm forced to hold my breath so the noxious vapors don't render me unconscious.
I guess it's better than snow (**knocks on wood**).
Okay, I saw the flurries yesterday. I'm over winter. Can a bruthuh get some chirping birds and blossoming trees? I guess the upside to the season is the chance to pay Vectren so much.