Goodies and Baddies

When one aspect of my life prospers, the other flouders. That is the way with life, I find, and there isn't much I can do to change it. Perhaps it's some ying yang bullshit, or perhaps it's just in my design of character. Maybe, just maybe I'm not as strong as I claim to be. Maybe I'm too weak to handle everything on my own. Whatever the case may be, my artwork is now sitting proudly on the walls of the Tyrone Hospital, as the "August" exhibit. Keep an eye on the newspaper, because a photo of my scraggly haired mug, featuring a drawing of an Eastern Blue Jay will be seen, including a bit of an article about me. I'm pretty amped about that.

With that feat behind me, I can finally exhale, and cross my fingers that some doors will open.

I should be happy, but instead, I sat in my bedroom alone, playing my acoustic guitar. Alone. I think my exhibit could've been better, but you know what the say about an artist being his own worst critic! I don't feel all the artwork lived up to it's potential, but I hope and pray that people will see it and like it!

Meanwhile, summer treks on, and I can hardly believe it's the end of July already! Where in the hell did this month go!? It feels like only yesterday the month had started with a bang, a pop, and a few fizzles.

Tonight my mom, father, and myself went to Phil-burg, a small, poor town who's best days were had back in the 80's when it was used for coal mining. The technology and such has barely budged since then. We stopped at a small resturant that is smack dab in redneck country. While the food is good, and completely unique, if you made a rule that you could ONLY leave the resturant when someone with a full set of teeth walked through the doors, you'd be there for a week.

Something about Phil-burg gives me the creeps. Maybe it's the fact that everyone's yard has an old rusted vehicle or refridgerator sitting on the lawn. Or maybe it's the fact that everyone's hair, sunglass, and clothing style is two decades behind the times. Whatever it is, I was uneasy when the finger lickin' hill billy's slipped through the doors at the dinky resturant. Two seperate groups of rednecks appeared suddenly, as my parents and I munched away. As an observer, I found that each group seemed to have three people, two female, and one male. Let's review, shall we?:

First you had the alpha male. Generally the men were in their late 30's, early 40's maximum, though unshaved faces, greasy hair, and grease stained trucker hats made an accurate age estimation impossible. There was only ever ONE male hill billy in the groups I've observed, and evidently his social status can be determined by the number of teeth he has in his rot-gummed mouth. As the alpha male, he evidently reserves some sort of unwritten right to flirt with BOTH of the next two females in his herem.

Then there was the young, skanky, trailer park whore, who looked like she'd leave a slimey trail of fish scent should she slide across the carseat in the right fashion. Aside from her voluptuous ass in those purple sweat pants (complete with ass-crack sweat stains), her toothless smile just wreaked of flirtyness.

As I sat there clogging my arteries with butter soaked perogies, I had to wonder how many cheesy trucker weiners had slipped through those gums of hers over the course of the last two decades. Actually, I found myself thinking that twice, with both groups observed.

I sipped my banana milkshake, and observed the second female of each herem. Evidently, the "granny" is an essential part of the herem function. In both groups there was a gray haired goat with no teath, wrinkled flesh, and clothing that looked like it was smeared across a birthing cow's vagina!

What kind of life to these people live!?

I found myself thinking more and more about it, to the point where I wanted nothing more than to leave Phillipsburg. The creepiness of these people literally made me sick to my stomach. OR..maybe that was the smell of rotten body odor, closely resembling the scent of a decaying burrito.

I mean...think about it. These people BREED. They kiss. They make LOVE! They shit, they piss.

They do all the things we the clean, more sophisticated people do, minus bath!

Then it hit me. These people can, infact, help who they are. They are lazy people, who just happened to find each other, and don't seem to mind each others raunchy presence.

Oh, and lest I forget their intelligence levels! One toothless male was sat poised at the table with his trailer whore and her (evidently) mother, and he made some sexual advances, until some text on a magazine page caught his eye. "Be merry!"

"I ain't never seen merry spelt like that before!" he chuckled, as if to imply that the MAGAZINE'S spelling of "merry" was wrong!

Veins popped on my mothers forhead as she tried to keep from laughing.

There are two games for kids to play at Goodies, (which by the way is tiny). There is a big football arcade came, and a pin ball machine. While the man stood firmly at the ordering window ordering the groups food, the trailer park whore and hag circled the games.

"What the hell is this?" I heard the old bag mutter.

"It's a ping pong machine!"

My GOD.

Never again. Never, ever, again.