Back again in the land of the living - Asheville, North Carolina is a lovely little artsy berg in the Blue Ridge foothills (think Laguna Beach, California without the ocean and bikinis), and this time we stayed 3 nights instead of 2. Lots of pool and beer at Barley's Taproom on Biltmore Ave Friday night (she kicked my ASS all night long - good for her!), a night of Russian composers at the symphony Saturday after a visit to a friend's new wine bar (called Sante, in the Grove Arcade. Ask for Carla), WAY too much good food, and an entire day - I mean the WHOLE day Sunday - in bed watching movies and eating crackers, cheese, sliced salami and smoked oysters. Never took off our jammies, except to, um, you know.
So I am rested and ready for work, and all hell broke loose while I was gone, and the jokes about "gee, we can't get along without you" are already stale, and I missed you guys a lot.
All: Hot tubs are not my favorite places, but I do like them a lot sometimes, and this trip was an example. I stewed for hours. But hot tubs smell icky, even with that scented crap the cabin owners put in there. The chlorine is always too strong, which despite the eye watering side of it might be a good thing, given what typically happens in private hot tubs in rental cabins. Ew.
Hot tubs are beer places. Well, for me they are. We had a stock of Trader Joe's oatmeal stout and Trinity red ale, and it was nice, but I was in my wine place. And there it was, like a shining beacon: Muscadet! Some say "muss-ka-DET" and some say "muss-ka-DAY" (Carla, the wine shop owner, says the latter is proper, but some wine snobs revile the appellation and pick on it with the "-det" ending, thus non-snobs like me run with it), but it's all good for me in the hot tub! There's a wine for fish, beef, lamb, even hamburgers and hot dogs. THIS is the wine for hot tubs! Mostly tart and sharp, like a fruity Pinot Gris with a creamy chardonnay finish. Drowns the chlorine, and since it's best quite chilled it keeps the tub going. And as a bonus for me: like an earlier poster, my wife got her hair cut "gay unicorn" short, and I saw a lot of the back of her head in that tub through a glass of Domaine de la Batardiere Muscadet Sevre et Maine, which I think translates as "who cares about the haircut, boy: see that look she gave you? Get to work!"
Ah, hot tubs.
It's already Tuesday and I haven't been an asshole on Fray yet. And so...
...In which Schuyler The Cat, late to the party, says many, many appalling things...
***
Sad and Perplexed - you said "have I created a monster?"
No. It's called a "daughter." It was created when you accepted a sticky load of appropriate quantity and viable and appreciable quality of hot semen - ejaculated from a penis or otherwise placed via appropriate other tools or measures - into your vagina through sexual contact (typically intercourse) or scientific/medical means way back when.
BTW - it's pronounced "daw-ter." Ever met her? Sounds like it. I'll tell you what - they can be horrid. And sons - they can be pretty awful.
Mothers and fathers, too.
You go on now, take your Aricept, if you can remember where you put it. We'll be here when you get back. Idiot.
***
Wants the day off - you said "Am I right that by asking her out, we have fulfilled our obligation to her?"
Yes. Now was that hard or something? Moron.
***
Hausfrau - you said "Am I just being petty here?"
Yes. So is he. Both of you please grow the fuck up. Now.
***
Annoyed Youth - you said "How can I change this?"
By waiting. Someday she'll die. That will change it. Water does not flow uphill, as nature has rules, you see. The sky is blue. Stick you finger up your ass, it'll stink after. Farts really do burn, and that can take all the hair off you ass, too. Too much beer, wine, or whiskey can make you vomit copiously. Zits suck. Parents are a pain in the ass. Life happens.
Deal with it, youngster. You'll miss her later.
***
...So fun, taking the short road. I'm in a hurry, and the letters were far more contrived than the usual offal Slate feeds us this week...or is that just me? A lot of the same over-edited whiny bullshit, but historically they seem *almost* real, and this week they're like Pamela Anderson letters - BIG-fake, and stupid. Still fun tho.
Ciao!
