Last night was Vicki’s birthday party. We sat by (and in) the pool and watched Jaws. I got there early and pretended to be useful. My sister and I went to three different Sonics before a manager agreed to fill our 5-gallon cooler with Cap’n Crunch ice. Linda is really good with people. If you ever need to return a cracked aquarium that’s full of dead goldfish and feces, she’ll not only help you clean it, but she’ll talk to the manager of the store and deflect all of his (or her) horseshit. Just don’t ask her if I am a very good navigator. I am.
I woke up this morning wanting to watch cartoons. I waited until I thought B had slept enough and then I let the cats wake her up with coffee and the promise of leftover kolaches. Once her beautiful blues were back in business, I flipped on the TV. Hong Kong Phooey confused me a little bit. As fondly as I remember Penry and his secret alter ego, I’d rather listen to Sublime sing about him than watch his show I guess. I didn’t make it through a single episode before switching over to Sanford & Son just in time to hear Fred use the phrase “faggoty jacket.”
Fred Sanford is the real number one super guy.
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