Discussion in 'The Bar' started by A Succulent Chinese Meal, Mar 10, 2015.
That's a nice pair of fuckin' baloney tits you got there.
I've heard these things about Billy Graham
He lets tarantulas crawl on him, that's a real man!
I've been wondering how, at his advanced age, Billy is able to write that Saturday column in my local paper each week without fail. It's a small miracle that he can still think straight.
Where I used to live in Virginia, there was this little column every week in the paper called "Just Being Frank." It was written by an ancient old man who rambled on forever.
And now you know...the REST of the story. Good day.
He was just an average man. Let's call him John.
On one particular morning he awoke at the usual time. Even though his wife had left early and was going to be away for the day, he had experienced a good night's sleep. He shaved and showered and was careful to put the wet towels in the clothes bin.
As he did that he thought to himself, "See, I put those towels away; she is always fussing at me about those towels."
He drove to McDonalds for breakfast. Went for one of those egg McMuffins. He
thought, "My wife keeps pushing oatmeal for breakfast but I just love those McMuffins."
He drove to his office. Most mornings the streets are crowded and he must search for a parking place, but not this morning. He found a place only a block away from the office. As he walked through the office door the clock on the wall chimed 9 o'clock.
"Good morning" greetings seemed more friendly than ever.
He began making phone calls covering the previous day's work. Every one of them got through to the person to whom he needed to speak. Four of five of the most demanding problems seemed to work themselves out. His secretary brought him coffee. For the first time it was hot and had just the right amount of sugar and cream.
At 11:30 a.m. he got a call from a business friend across town asking, if he could play golf beginning at 4 p.m. Yes, he could do that and still get home in time to meet his wife who was due back at 9 o'clock.
Then he was off to lunch. Members of the lunch bunch were all in a jovial mood for a change. The Republicans were not damning Clinton and the Democrats even had something nice to say about Bush.
When he got back to the office there were no calls waiting or "must do" work. He started doing some of the things he had been putting off for several weeks. His secretary had all of the information he needed available to him. Time slipped by and soon it was 3:30 p.m. "Got to leave now if I am going to make those nine holes this afternoon."
As a golfer he was just a little better than average. Most of the time he shot in the low 90s but once in a while, now that he had new clubs, he had cropped into the high 80s. Those clubs were expensive but they did seem to make a difference.
He teed off first. The drive went straight and true down the middle of the fairway and his second shot was near to the green. It was a par four hole. His pitch to the green was long. He two-putted for a five.
"Now that is not bad," he said to himself. A little better putting and I would have made par."
The remaining eight holes went extremely well with a few pars and a few bogeys. The foursome was betting a couple of bucks on each hole and John just about broke even.
When he got home there was a note on the door from a neighbor.
"Dear John. We know your wife will not be back until after supper. We have made Irish stew and we know how you like Irish stew. When you get home come over and have some with us."
He smiled at the invitation, took his clubs into the shed, washed up a bit and then went to the neighbors for supper. The Irish stew was great. The conversation at the dinner table was only slightly political and they all congratulated him on his recent letter to the editor of the newspaper.
At 8:30 p.m., John excused himself and went home. He sat in the recreation room trying to read, but something seemed to be missing. He kept looking at his watch. It was nine and she still wasn't home. It had been such a good day. Everything had gone so well but for some reason he felt anxious. At 9:30 p.m., he heard a car coming up the driveway.
He went out and met his wife as she got out of the car.
"Did you have a nice day?" she asked. "The neighbors told me that they were going to invite you to supper but I forgot to tell you."
He pondered for a few seconds.
"Have a nice day? Yes, I think I had a nice day. A lot of good things happened but something was missing. Like I said, everything went O.K., but those things just didn't seem to be enough. I wonder if not seeing you all day was the reason?"
She smiled and said, "Oh, don't be silly. I was gone only for a day. Let's go inside and have a late coffee and you can tell me about your day."