The most humbling part of the past little while is that I haven’t defied gravity as gracefully as I have in the past. I have eaten sand with virtually every Atlantic ride, I cracked open a pair of chinos (as well as my right knee) after losing my balance in the driveway, I almost broke my ankle jogging on Broad Street, I took a digger and killed a bag of freshly bought Elsie’s after getting dizzy on Drummond, and am still wearing a wrap on my ankle after failing to execute a proper landing after one of my famous porch roof somersault leaps. Me suspects it be what the chemist is dispensing me. Or, perhaps, it be my delusionary defiance of the influence the chemist wishes to wield upon me. Either way, I am finally staring this problem in the eye. And if I’m staring, I’m glaring. Best to GTFOOMW*.
*Free burger and beer at The Globe for the one who articulates that acronym first. The only catch is that you have to sit next to me while I wear a Red Sox jersey whilst a Yankee game plays on their telly. I will not be responsible for any dry cleaning expenses incurred by ketchup-covered flying French fries lobbed in our direction. (I said “whilst” because I didn’t want to say “while” twice in the same sentence. And, besides; you know, my blog, my rules.)
4 comments:
Although I've never used that acronym, I read it aloud in my head (is that possible? my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.) straight away as if it were written out as complete words: Get The Fuck Out Of My Way.
Am I wrong? I'll be at The Dub on Thursday evening, after work, around 6:30-ish or so... can we skip the hamburger and fries and move straight to the vodka gimlet? I know, people say it's an old-foagie drink. Well fuck them, I like the taste. SYATDIYAT. (See You At The Dub If You Are There, but you knew that.)
Joe wins.
Best to Get The F--- Out Of My Way?
Sorry, I see I'm late. I also see I was right. Some consolation, though small. I think I would have prefered the burger.
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