Well, we weren't laid off. That's a relief. Now we can return to spending our workdays exclusively dwelling on sex. Today we turn 53, and at that age you'd think we'd have the whole sex conundrum under control. Far from it. We're like one of those monkeys at the zoo, compulsively masturbating for the crowd. In our mind, mind you, in our mind. Real sex is unfortunately out of the question, as we're sleeping with our wife but not having sex, and the thought of going out and pursuing a real sexual partner is too mind-boggling to contemplate. "No, we can't go back to my place because the wife is in the bed" is not exactly one of the greatest inducements to romance that we've ever heard. Besides, we're still in love with our wife, so we'd feel like we're cheating, even though the agreement we've come to includes dating other people. We're roomies, like. But we're more than roomies, so far as we're concerned, and as a result our stockpile of Cialis is totally going to waste. Maybe we'll take one late tonight and walk around the apartment, batting things with our giant erection. "Yeah, take that," we'll say, and then, quoting Henry Miller with delight, "It's like a piece of lead with wings on it!" Anyway, we don't know how we got on this subject, we usually leave the intimate stuff on the cutting room floor. But we're caught on the horns of a dilemma, and envy the 1990s us who was free to pursue women until it hurt. We weren't the savviest of fornicators, especially in the seduction department. We asked this lesbian friend of our friend William if she'd have sex with us and her response, and this is a quote, was "Not if you were the last man on earth." Basically, the woman was telling us she'd sooner have sex with Rush Limbaugh, and that hurt. So we dated this cocktail waitress instead and she left our back all scratched up. She'd just dig her nails into our back and let rip. It was like being gouged by a wild boar. We figured we could buy a kevlar vest or break up with her, and we chose the latter. Besides, she was a wild drunk. It was like watching a female version of us, the way she hit the bottle.
Today is National Lynyrd Skynyrd Plane Crash Day, and we celebrated by going to the dentist. But it was painless and only cost $155 bucks, which is like a birthday present sort of. Now we're at work and kneeling on our prayer rug, pointing in the direction of the Lynyrd Skynyrd crash site. We're ululating, and our cube farm compatriots are looking confused. Screw 'em. Ronnie Van Zant was a rotten human being and a great man, and you can feel as free as you want to make fun of Free Bird but Lynyrd Skynyrd was still a great band, as close as to Waylon Jennings as rock ever got. We would like to drink an entire bottle of Jack Daniels in his memory, but that would kind of be a minor violation of our rule about not drinking anything. Damn sobriety, it so often stands in the way of doing the right thing.
We would be remiss if we didn't mention that today is also the birthday of Ben Ricci, Unremitting Failure's official Littlestown branch correspondent. His corrosive wit leaves us in awe, ditto his photographs of the back streets of Littlestown, which we sped down in our dad's orange and black gas company truck back in the day, looking for trouble.
Happy (or not unhappy) LIII mike
Posted by: Garth | October 20, 2011 at 01:39 PM
Happy Birthday, Mike! Sad to hear about the chronic prurience; I for one was really hoping that monkey (and chicken) would shrink with time.
Posted by: Bryon | October 20, 2011 at 02:26 PM
Thank you Garth. You're not Garth Hudson of the Band, are you? That would be too much. Bryon, I exaggerated somewhat. If I was as horny now as I was at 30, I don't know what I'd do. Eat saltpeter right out of the box, probably.
Posted by: UF MIKE | October 20, 2011 at 04:14 PM
Where can you buy saltpeter?
Posted by: Bryon | October 20, 2011 at 04:56 PM
Congrats to you for not getting laid off and congrats especially to the U.S. Government for not shutting down the one branch of itself which was, this last few months not withstanding, still kicking ass every day. Unremitting Failure is one taxpayer-funded activity which is worth every penny and more! We're having a meeting tomorrow morning to either stamp down rumors of a rolling layoff or announce the start of a rolling layoff. We don't know which. I figure we're fucked whatever they tell us; we're either fucked next week or fucked several weeks from now, I have no preference. I'm taking a more long-term view of my descent into poverty, not this week-to-week Wall Street panic bullshit. With perseverance, I'll get there! I will walk barefoot and play with sticks all day. I can't wait!
Anyway, happy birthday and stuff, to you and Ben, I mean!
~Dave
Posted by: Dave | October 20, 2011 at 11:27 PM
I'm definitely not Garth Brooks either
Posted by: Garth (not Hudson) | October 21, 2011 at 02:02 AM
Happy LSPC Day, from me as well. And since Dave here has just Said It All (about jobs and being fucked), I don't feel bad about not having much more to offer today. Congrats to You & Ben and all concerned.
Posted by: Martijn | October 21, 2011 at 05:35 AM
ditto to dave about taxpayer money well spent, like an artist grant that keeps goin on and on and delivering!Hail to Piss baby hitler in piss! on another note come up to DE for halloween fun next weekend. My divorced friend sherri is having a kiddie party, low key and you can come in costume.we can pick you up in baltimore if ya like...
Posted by: karoline | October 21, 2011 at 10:56 AM
hi The red dirt scribbler link takes me some body builders blog... is that right? karoline
Posted by: karoline | October 23, 2011 at 07:19 PM
@ karoline: 'tis I, the erstwhile red dirt scribbler who has morphed more times than necessary. I have dead links scattered all over the intertents web. My new/old personality is red dirt girl/lola's loves. Just follow the red dirt line ...
xxx
Posted by: red dirt girl | October 29, 2011 at 08:46 PM