Sometimes I feel like I’m so busy that I can’t remember to eat, and other times I sit thinking about the dumbest things, and when I "snap out of it!" I realize a couple of hours have passed. Times when I’m not quite so busy, obviously.
For instance, I was recently reading the obits and came across a guy who — according to his obit — was loved immensely by his whole family, and in particular, his second lovely bride.
After I picked myself up off the floor from laughing at his name, I said out loud, "No wonder she loved him so much!’
I mean, come on. How can you not love a guy named Richard Pickle?
You know he had to have been called "Dick Pickle."
Every time I thought about that name and the sweet face of the man who had most likely been called that all his life, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Then as I was watching the local news, they started talking about this nimrod who had tried twice in one day to kidnap a young girl. Two different girls, two different locations, and they finally were able to nab this jerkweed at the scene of the second incident.
He’d just been released from prison a couple of days prior, and then his face flashed up on the screen.
Hubs and I laughed...and I do mean laughed. Belly laughed. I was doubled over.
This guy was about 30 years old, Hispanic, and one of his eyes was white. Like, not only did he look like he’d spent most of his life behind bars, that eyeball glaring back through the TV screen seemed to speak volumes. Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto...
I said, "Holy smokes, Hubs — it’s Dick Pickle’s long-lost cousin! Dead-Eye Camarco! Dead-Eye Dick Pickle!"
And we laughed and laughed...
Guess ya had to be there...
Just an example of someone who "doesn’t get out much." I sit and make up stuff all the time. Like song lyrics.
I am always rewriting song lyrics in my head to make them sound funnier.
Like, that song from Def Leppard, "Bringin’ On The Heartache." Hubs was playing it over and over on some cassette he found under the seat in his truck, so I started trying to make it sound more entertaining:
"Waffles, good enough to eat,
with grits and gravy on the side
You’re a shopper, always runnin’ wild,
down the grocery aisle alone -
You’re always searchin’, searchin’ for those coupons,
but you always leave them back at home...
so what are you gonna do?
Folks are waitin’ there on you -
better buy some eggs and cheese
You got a brood to feed
Whoa can’t you see...
You’re bringin’ home the bacon
Soon it’s eggs we’re makin’..
You’re bringin’ home the bacon
Got some home fries to be makin’
I want iced tea...."
You get the drift, right?
Somehow or another, all the lyrics I make up tend to center around food. I don’t know why, maybe because I’ve had so many good experiences at the Waffle House and Huddle House.
I’m still workin’ on the lyrics because ain’t no way a girl from Georgia can leave "biscuits" out of the scene.
Not sure how I got from talkin’ about the obits to making up song lyrics, but there you go. Maybe I should start writing little ditties about folks who have passed on.
Like ol’ Dick Pickle.
(To the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star")
on a snowy winter day
He played music in a band
he was quite a handy man
Dick’s the name he liked the least
Richard Pickle rest in peace.