Unwanted Commentary

Yesterday I was that guy. You know that guy, the one with one leg who optimistically enters the annual butt kicking contest at the County Fair? That was me. It was really busy here at the work place yesterday and there opinions that this was the fine I paid for being out all day Tuesday. Little do those that are of such opinion know how we suffered for our day away.

The engagement itself was not so miserable, but I doubt there are many among you, my filthy readers, or those in actual attendance that would have labeled it “riveting”. My cohorts and I were a initially skeptical upon arrival at the auditorium because the handy-dandy bulletin outlining the sequence of events listed no one by the name of George H. W. Bush as speaking. Suddenly there was a very real feeling that we had been bamboozled, fooled into the whole affair on some sly ruse. This proved to be unfounded and indeed we got to see our esteemed former President Bush and listen to his engaging, if not at times seemingly off topic, words. It must be said that the old man looks pretty good to be going on 82 and one really has to be amazed that Jr. inherited none of his father’s speaking ability.

Mr. former President spoke early on and after that it was a very dry hour or so listening to various wigs of the big variety. A cruder person than myself might imply the notion that the event seemed to resemble a circle and that there was some “jerking” going on. Ahem. As the clock edged its hands past the predetermined ending point there was some agitation amongst my coworkers, but we were rewarded after a fashion by the final speaker. This gentleman, it was rumored and much ballyhooed, owns the Houston Astros and is quite the go getter, a storied “Servant Leader” and man of the community. He seemed nice. He did tell funny stories. We were very happy when he stopped speaking.

The bus ride, oh the bus ride. All sins of boring dialogue could have been forgiven if it had not been for Newman. Fable Newman! A man of age and wisdom who has the patience of Job and thought it proper to instruct us, leading by example as it were, of how we should not rush about or go the speed limit on the Interstate. Now, I don’t actually know how fast Newman drove the bus, but by all available information and calculation it was less than the glorious State of Texas mandates. I guess there is something to be said for safety and not ramming the bus into a concrete abutment wherein my coworkers riding in the front of the bus are killed brutally, but sweet macadamia nuts! What should have been a brisk three hour drive came perilously close to four tedious hours and at the end of it all the whole scenario equaled a twelve hour day.

But then I didn’t work, got a free lunch and spent the day with Cici, which is never a bad thing. The hilarity of our slap happy, punch drunkenness after the arduous bus trip made the whole thing worth it. Fuck, these posts are getting long winded.