Looking back on my life, with the benefit of hind sight, I realize that most of the best things that happen, happen in the wee hours of the morning. It’s my personal witching hour. I often wake up, with not a damn thing to do, and no chance of sleep, so I switch on the television, pop open a beer, and observe the world. I get the feeling sometimes that people are more honest with themselves at five in the morning. After the initial hate fest brought on by my hangover, I settle into this valley of peace and tranquility. A large portion of my upper brain shuts down. Not like actual sleep, but a cessation of cognitive thought. And all of God’s green creation comes into crystal sharp focus. I realize things that I wouldn’t normally realize.
Like how many marriages has Shania Twain ruined? I would assume that the video for Don’t alone has untold numbers of men leaving their women to go ride horses with Ms. Twain, or walk through fields of, … what the hell is that crap? Agave? I don’t know. And how did she even get on that horse wearing that gigantic dress. Was there some sort of crane or a pulley system? I mean, you would assume gravity wasn’t happy about that whole arrangement. Did Conway Twitty own a mirror? And What the hell is up with Keith Urban’s drummer? Seriously, am I the only guy that thinks this face should never ever exist?
I haven’t always been a fan of country music. I was raised Christian, and therefore unaware that good music even existed. I wasn’t allowed to listen to the radio, and for sure forbidden from anything labeled as “the devil’s music”. But round about middle school I discovered rock and roll, and try as my parents might, I was hell bent on living out this new rock thing I had found. No more Newsboys for me, and DC Talk could suck a dick as far as I was concerned. Rock and roll was the only good and decent noise I would ever listen to again. Except it wasn’t. Later on I discovered that there’s a whole lot of music out there that despite not being fueled by the devil, is pretty bad ass none the less. I think it was Hank Jr. that converted me. Whatever the case, I now love me some country.
Another good early morning activity is watching the crop reports. If you have never gotten your ass up super early and watched a crop report, you haven’t lived. They come on at four or five in the A.M. and believe you me, it’s worth the red eye to peel your peepers open and take in one of these bee-otches. It’s like a parody of a parody of the news in parody form. I honestly don’t think I can communicate to you exactly how ridiculous it is. Imagine the most country ass, red neck, cousin fucker you have ever met, with the thickest accent you have ever heard. Now imagine this guy telling you the weather and news as it pertains to farming. It’s wild.
Also, tele-evangelism is awesome. I may hate church, but I love me some Hollywood church. It’s so ridiculously fake and retarded. I want to jump through the screen and choke the life out of these douche bags. But I can’t take my eyes off of the whole embarrassment. It’s so fucking awesome.
In fact, now that I think about it, I hooked up with my woman early in the morning. It was the morning after I married Kenny and Rachel, and I woke up stupid early because I had slept in the chair in the living room. And Sarah was there, sleeping on the couch, and her folks were in the back bedroom, cause Kenny and Rachel were gone on their honeymoon. So I woke up, my neck was all cracked out and sore, and I had some mystery bruises on me. I remembered later it was because I was trying to help Sarah into the house (she was a bit tipsy after the wedding) and she tackled me off the front porch into the bushes. That was the exact moment I knew I was interested in her. I guess she knocked some sense into me or something, but I distinctly remember laying there in the bushes, trying to help Sarah up, and thinking to myself, “you dumb ass, why the hell didn’t you figure this shit out before now? She’s leaving tomorrow you know?”
And so I slept in the chair and woke up sore because I wanted to get a little more time with her in the morning. And I woke up really early, watched the crop report, and woke her up just in time for the Jack Van-Impe ministries. And apparently, her vagina was hanging out, (she slept in her bride’s maid dress) but I missed it. I was pretty bummed out at the time, but it all worked out alright in the end.
I suppose I should update on my holiday trip to the beach. It was meh. Meh. Meh. I didn’t have to meet any family. I didn’t have to meet very many of her friends. Not a whole lot of anything actually happened. I did see the most fucking awesome liquor store I have ever seen in my life. If heaven has a liquor store, it will be like the one in Beaufort North Carolina. No shit, it was gigantic, and shiny, and it smelled like happiness. First off, it was at least double the size of any liquor store I have ever been in. It was huge. Most ABC stores are tiny, poorly lit, and have a vague odor of vagrants. But this one had gigantic isles, every thing was clean, and orderly, and there was a bar. For real, an actual bar, in the liquor store. Holy hell that’s awesome. A long time ago, back before I was born, apparently my mom was a bar tender at an ABC liquor lounge. And the whole bar slowly spun in circles, like that scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. At least that’s the word on the street. That must be where I get it.
It would seem that I’m a ten year old. The reason being, I laughed my ass off every time we saw a sign for crabs. Hahahahaha! Crabs! I’m still laughing about it! That and this place called Dick Parker Ford. Due to a comedically placed flag, it looked a lot like Dick Packer Ford. I laughed for a good ten minutes on that one. And apparently I’m a dork. Because when we pulled into the back of Sarah’s friends trailer park, I saw her back yard was THE FUCKING OCEAN! So I ran back and climbed down the rocks, and dumped my head in the water. I mean, I’m not traveling all that way without getting a little wet. Well the locals all thought I was crazy. But I told them I was just excited to see the ocean. They quickly informed me that that was not if fact the ocean, but rather Bogue sound. And if I wanted to see the ocean I would have to trek my land lubber ass over to the other side of the island, and blah, blah, blah. But I told them, if the water is salty, it’s the fuckin ocean, and I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, you’d better not tell me otherwise because dammit, I’m trying to enjoy myself here!
But I really didn’t have that great a time down there. I wish I had gotten a little more time with Sarah, and a little less time with her friends. Also, apparently Sarah is a completely different person when her parents are around. She’s incredibly affectionate and likable when they aren’t around. But once they are, she doesn’t even know me. It sort of pissed me off. I’ll just write off the whole trip as one long crap fest. The food was good though. And I consumed my weight in Sailor Jerry’s rum. And any rum that was brewed up by a tattoo artist is pretty bad ass. Just a few more weeks till I get to see Sarah’s honkytonk badonkadonk again. I hate dating.
Update: I was dunking my head in Core sound, not Bogue sound, and I was on the mainland, not an island. My bad everyone, I know you really care how geographically correct my blog is.