What should, I write about tonight at this wicked hour of the night? At least, I ain’t cooking any beef stew in the crockpot – Well, the bad news is, I can’t find the damn thing (crockpot) at this wicked hour of the night! “Shit!” Some cook huh? Go figures, its time to put the blame on ole grand piano of strawberry jam.
“Jam?” That’s what, I said, Sherlock – “Jam.” Anything you want to say about it? Good…! Keep it that way and stop pointing the stupid nozzle at me! Yes, I can see that your “armed and dangerous!” – with a hose literally.
So much for washed up firefighters looking to play fireman with a hose at this time of the night, but, the timing of things in this town is pretty much washed up for this time of the night – dead in the heat of the night! “No, not that movie you ugly bearded bastard! – You think you can rhyme the chime with Olive Garden, huh?” Well, go figures, it’s almost 2:30 in the morning and you want me to do an impromptu Italian fiesta dance? Not a chance Sherlock!
I’m saving the last dance for the pretty lady here and a shoulder for her to sleep on and “no you can’t borrow it either!” – only thing is, “I’ll be needing the shoulder back in about the next twenty or thirty years or so, than, we’ll talk about hammering it out as old wash up’s!”
“Wash up’s huh?” Go figures it’s the reality of life – we get that way once in a while. But, it doesn’t happen very often. Neither does Jerry Seinfeld. That would make some sensible sense – at least he’s not washed up yet as a comedian, perhaps he can learn from a nimrod like David Letterman.
At least it wasn’t this bad? Right? Go figures.