Interesting 36 Hours or So

So I’m in my room in Charlotte getting ready to go to the bass fishing tournament. Many people seem struck that I would do this, but I think it will be really interesting. I haven’t been around the outdoorsy type in a while, and I bet there’s a dynamic present that I’ve never experienced. Good times are a-comin’.
Plus, my room is dope! View of the city and all that. Only letdown, of course, is there’s no crocodile on my headboard. That would be pimpin’.
Anyway, here are a few observations from my last 48 hours or so.
I really love DC. I’ve never been able to really put my finger on it, but the DC metro area has always done it for me. Perhaps it’s because, after nine years of being friends with JR, it feels like home in a lot of ways. Also doesn’t hurt that there’s a healthy supply of beautiful women. Which brings me to my next point…
I now know how to tell the married men at the train station. They’re the ones walking fast and not saying a word to anyone. Walking slow and talking is a great way to wind up face first in an ethical dilemma. Goodness, man. I mean bad women e’where.
Doing talks may be the best part of this job. Didn’t have to snatch nobody up by the belt loops. In fact, talking to those kids was one of the best experiences I’ve had in a while. They seemed really interested in writing, and it seems I may have been able to help them get better at what they’re doing. ‘Tis a good feeling indeed.
Driving through Virginia can take years off your life. The police are e’where. Hiding behind pine trees and stuff. They know that ain’t right.
Nothing is scarier than a random note on your door. Pulled up to my door and saw a card on the door that wasn’t on anyone else’s. Thought The Man was coming to get me. Good thing it was a much better note than that.
Correction. Worse than a note on the door would be seeing your door butt nekkid open. My bad. Reminds me of a time I told Delaware Dave that nothing was worse than seeing your car getting towed. He said the worst is coming to your parking spot, not seeing your car, hoping it was towed, and knowing full well that it wasn’t. He was correct.
Flat tires suck. Says it all, right? They suck. The end.
I realized again that I’m getting old. I got here too late today to go on a boat, so I decided to kill time before checking in. Figured it couldn’t hurt to go to TJ Maxx. $200 bucks later–all spent on business attire, pillows, and pajamas–I left. Really, pillows? Are you–or am I–serious?
I missed my blogday. I like to recap good posts from the last year on blogday. Guess I’ll run that together with International Baba Day. Only 30 days away!
I ain’t heard from a few of y’all in a minute. BJ, Dame…where y’all at?
That’s all for now. I’m sure there will be more tomorrow.

5 thoughts on “Interesting 36 Hours or So”

  1. I realized I was getting old when one of my student workers tried to brush something out of my hair and was actualy shocked when I told him it was a collection of gray hair.
    Oh, and shopping at TJ Maxx? The jumpoff.

  2. “I now know how to tell the married men at the train station”?
    So you won’t have you waste your time chatting up the married ones? Is there something you wanna tell us Bo?
    Just kidding.

  3. Mr. Senor Evan

    DC Metro stations are inherently dangerous to anyone that’s been drinking in Morgan or at Nation in Southeast (yeah, I’m white and partying in SE at 2 AM). Not only will you roll down a mile-long escalator, but because it feels safe your drunk ass friends will take off towards the closest boarding train.
    There is something unique about DC and the vibe you get when visiting, it’s definitely close to the same as NYC for me and kind of grabs you differently.
    One of my close friends going to Catholic U. Law said about DC “It’s the Hollywood of ugly people.” Straight up and down, DC is a Top 3 metro places to live for me.
    evan

  4. Yeah…DC has its upside…
    I love it…im attached to it cause the babies are still there. Now they even have baseball.
    But it can wear on you on a daily basis.
    There is this everpresent stick up everyone’s ass that seems to inhibit them from smelling the stench of their own shit.
    and then…the rent.

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