Ladies and Gentlemen...Mr. Googly Fruit !!

As this is like my 1,830 post over nearly five years, I have lost perspective on what I am doing…Ergo…

I am allowing one of the more quiet Bagwine Digs residents to take control of today’s post.

Folks…Meet Mr. Googly Fruit…

He will take you through a tour of the Bagwine digs through his eyes.

Hi Guys!! I love Matt-Man and Schmoop. Even though I am a tacky piece of early seventies "art", they let me sleep in their bed at times...

More often than not, I sleep with Schmoop when Matt-Man can't get it up because he has had wayyyy too much Wild Irish Rose!!

As I am comprised of fruit, albeit the cheap glass and whatever variety...They protect my color and sheen by placing me under a sun lamp from time to time in order to maintain my vivaciousness...

They have a cat named Corky who sheds a lot, tosses furballs a lot, and sniffs me like I'm a can of tuna or something...

I like the deaf, mute, stuffed dog that they call Helen Keller. The continuous presence of Jesus, however; freaks me the fuck out.

Matt-Man and Schmoop like their food, but as you can see...They enjoy their beer even more.
And eggs...they like eggs...

So there you have it folks...A look at Matt-Man, Schmoop, and the Bagwine Digs through me, Mr. Googly Fruit. I hope you enjoyed it.

Cheers!!

The Overture of Infinite Sorrow

Due to the unusually warm weather, we’ve had the windows here at the Bagwine digs open for the past few days.

Our apartment complex sits alongside a busy street and directly across from the Emergency Room entrance/exit of a good sized hospital.

Between the street traffic and the hospital activity, the noise can at times, be deafening.

When it’s warm like it has been of late, our street becomes Thunder Alley, as seemingly every Harley-Davidson in North America storms up and down the road in a bombastic blast of steel, fuel, and leather.

At least a dozen times a day without warning, the calm and quiet are shattered like bone going through glass by the piercing screech and wail of ambulance sirens.

There’s also a Middle School nearby, and when school is in session, the kids walking to and from the school create a whirling buzz of hoots, cussing, and incoherent babbling.

The incoherent babbling is a noisy indication that in five to seven years many of these kids will be either knocked up or doing time…or both.

There is another notable sound that often seeps through the windows of the digs and into my ears.

It typically happens at night, as I sit next to the windows while at our computer…and?

I hate it.

It emanates from the hospital parking lot near the Emergency Room section.

It is the sound of men and women, family and friends wailing in sorrow, crying in disbelief, and in tone that is both angry and languid screaming…

“No, no, no…Why dear God, Why?”

When the motorcycles roar by, the thunder fades quickly.

The piercing screech of the ambulance sirens, is so commonplace here that I don’t notice the noise nearly as often as I do.

The incoherent babbling of the school kids is a mere annoyance, but…

The overture of infinite sorrow that I sometimes hear being played by folks standing in the hospital lot strikes a much more profound chord.

It strikes me louder, and echoes longer.

And yeah, like I said…

I hate it.

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Burnt Offerings

It’s going to be a hot and humid Sabbath here in Bagwine, Ohio today.

The humidity is going to be higher than the number of spirochetes swimming around in Lindsay Lohan’s bodily fluids.

There is also a chance of severe thunderstorms this afternoon, so if Schmoop’s basement is done flooding, there may be thunderstorm sex…

If I am able, that is. You see…

It was really busy at the Beer Mine yesterday as soon as I opened, and again from about 5 P.M until I closed at 9 P.M., but…

From about 1:30 to 4:30 or so, it was merely sporadic.

So, since it was a hot and sunny day, I sat out front much of the time soaking up some rays as I listened to the radio.

Needless to say, the Matt-Man’s head got a little fried…

My head is so fucking burnt that if my legs were white, I would look like an upside-down thermometer, however; my legs are not white.

My legs look like this…



Yeah…What wasn’t tan, is burnt because I wore “hot pants” to work Saturday. And, I got no good sweaty cleavage shots, merely uber-radiated skin and heartache.

To add insult to injury…When I arrived home all burnt, hot, and sweaty at 9:15 or so, the apartment was hotter than Kelsey’s Nuts.

Yes sports fans, our A/C which had run so well this summer, hit the shitter and kaputted.

We won’t have air until Monday at the earliest…and the heat won’t be abating anytime soon.

Fuck.

Alas, I am still making an amazing meal after I go see Ryno, but since it will be so damn hot in the digs, I’ll be using the crockpot.

I may take purty pitchers of the dish and show them to you on Monday.

And by Monday, if God is smiling upon us, our ace fix-it man Rob, will come up here and repair the air.

Amen, and Amen…

Catch up with ya all later today.

Cheers!!

P.S. Longtime Bagwine Buddy, Dana is celebrating what I believe is her 57th Birthday today.

If you get a moment, please stop by her virtual digs and wish her a wunnerful day...before her eyes are too old to read the internets.

I thank you in advance. Happy Birthday Dana!!

Update: Matt-Man, Boy Genius has fixed the problem. Although it has never been an issue with the A/C before, I had an instictive feeling to check our circuit breaker panel.

After initially flipping off and on the wrong circuit (which aren't fucking marked), I found the one that controls the A/C and sure enough, Bingo!! We have air thanks to moi.