What's that scent you're wearing? It makes me feel happy!
Lemonade in the grass? Beers on the patio?
Sand, sun, dandelions, red freeze-pops?
Volleyball, baseball, really cute tank tops?
I can place it, I swear. Just give me a minute. Mango? No, peach? With a dash of... spinach?
Garden fresh veggies and freshly mowed grass? Lightning bugs, bonfires, open door hatchbacks?
A car full of camping gear, headed up the hill,
Windows down, playing good tunes for all to hear.
Ice cream, gelato, and cold margaritas,
Friends are at the fest and can't wait to see ya.
Get off work early and turn off your phone. We're coming, we're coming, we'll see you there soon!
Oh, what is that scent? I know it, I swear! I can't seem to place it, but it's my memory... somewhere?
Don't give me that eye-roll. Just tell me what is is, please!
Ok cool, I'm listening. Oh, that's all it is? SPF 15?
One of the oddest (and admittedly most addictive) things about blogging is how easy it is to communicate with specific people on a very impersonal, public level.
Side Note: Thank you, Mack and Melissa, for shamelessly flaunting the aforementioned at me and thus inspiring my technology-fueled second novel. More often than not, it was baited, but you guys knew that already. Well, at least you did, Melissa... I’m not being a dick though, your characters are amazing and I’m happy to have them.
But I digress. Or maybe I regress. Whichever it is, the specific person this entry is aimed at claims they haven’t read my stuff. While that may be true, statistical analysis shows that I more than likely have a steadier flow of regular readers than the four and a half people who tell me they've read my shit.
And if you include all the vampire stats (which I don’t), I also get about 455 homepage-only referrals daily from xxx.XXYTwoGirlsOneGuy.fuk or xxx.itsbiggerontheinside.vag. Kidding. Never click on those. They are not blog reviews. Stay with trusted sites like... Pornhub.
Either way, this one is for you, Captain Sham. An IPhone 6 with your approximate work location tuned in this morning at 10am, but read nothing, so I can only assume you are anticipating your personalized shout-out. I aim to please, even though you liked me better when I didn’t even care about you enough to try.
Hmm… I just realized I don’t really have a whole lot to say about all this. All of my snide remarks were really only about writing this entry that I just realized I don’t have any real content for.
Oops. Just ended a sentence with a preposition, which is a rule that you're not supposed to do that. It's a stoopid rule.
Pretty much, Sham, you were really REALLY sweet but I didn't really want you. But… you were goofy and cute, fun and easy to get along, so I let you come around. And pretty soon I liked it when you came around. You were warm and you felt like home and...
Hold on! I think I feel a song coming on!
And then it was all really fun for a little bit before… POOF! The wooden leg dropped to the floor and I saw the damn eyeball skateboard logo tattoo. Captain Sham was Count Olaf all along!
Well... fuck...
And I'd really like to understand why, but I guess that's just life.
