Talk of the town: Dirty pillows and purloined potato sticks
May 9—I was driving by the baseball field near the Colisee in Lewiston the other day when I noticed, with great glee, that the field was actually abuzz with ballplayers. I mean, dozens of them were out there chasing down flies, fielding grounders, warming up the pitcher or just getting stretched out on outfield grass. I mean, baseball in the spring, just like in the olden days. I'm not sure why I got so giddy about such a prosaic sight, but I pulled to the side of the road and watched them enthralled for many minutes. I wonder: Am I one day going to be one of those weird old dudes who hangs around ballparks, watching every game and keeping score in a little notepad? Eh, probably not. Too much math.
Last year it was chocolate graham crackers, which mysteriously vanished from the shelves for a period of months. Then it was Delectable Stew cat food, which you STILL can't find unless you know people who know people. Now it's potato sticks and this one really galls me. I'm convinced that nobody in the world except for me enjoys potato sticks, and yet there they are, gone! This one is very distressing to me inasmuch as potato sticks are really the only vegetable I eat. I guess I could switch over to corn chips, onion rings or jelly beans while I wait out the shortage.
This recent headline gave me an eerie sense of déjà vu. Have I not seen it somewhere before? Did I dream it, and if so, why am I dreaming about headline-featured poo? It's really messing with my head. If this is The Agency trying to activate me for assignment, we've got to talk about our secret spy codes.
Makes sense. I've seen some real nasty plates in recent years. However, if they're going to start throwing around new rules, they should go after the really ambiguous plate. You know the ones I mean. The plate on the car ahead of you has a strategic series of letters and numbers and you just KNOW it has a secret meaning, but your ciphering skills aren't up to snuff and so you have to follow the dude around all day trying to figure it out. That's how I wound up in West Virginia that one time. Turned out WE8O9VIG was the guy's last name.
So, outdoor proms are becoming all the rage. I think it's a fine idea. You know, if Carrie White's prom had been held outdoors, there wouldn't have been that messy affair with the pig's blood and a lot of trouble could have been avoided.
