Never Put Off Until Tomorrow What Can Be Put Off Indefinitely
I figure anything is better than actually doing what I should be doing so; have I ever told y’all how I met my Bride? No? OK, here's how it all happened:
It was the late 1980s, music had reached its cultural zenith, spandex was good, hair was big and there I was, in the geographic center of the universe Lubbock Texas imbibing heaping helpings of steamy undergraduate educational goodness courtesy of Texas Tech University. Actually I was a wayward Freshman EARNING an abysmal 1.5 GPA for my first semester. Surprisingly, it takes eight semesters and 2 summer sessions to raise a first semester 1.5 GPA to a 3.0. Wish I'd put a little thought into that BEFORE my freshman year, in fact, I wish I had enlisted for a term and grown up some before I ever started my freshman year. Water under the bridge and then I probably would not have met my most best friend and Bride. What were we discussing….Oh, yes, how did I meet my darlin’ Bride? I was living on campus and like as not, I tended to become somewhat hungry a couple three times daily. The University had very thoughtfully provided a solution to my repetitive hunger issues by providing my residence hall with a fairly competent chow hall. The chow halls were generally staffed by student employees and as my residence hall was male, our chow hall was apt to be staffed by Serving Wenches and Scullery Maids from the female residence halls on campus and vice versa. One evening on or about November I found myself in that peculiar hungrified condition and I moseyed myself on down to the chow hall. It was a special meal night when the Serving Wenches and Scullery Maids dress up and serve you adequately cooked food from fancy sterno warmed chaffing dishes. I really hadn’t taken much notice of all that hooyah as long I was provided suitably tasty plate of chow; but that night was to be a little different. As I worked my way through the serving line an absolutely Angelic Serving Wench in a pink dress drew me up short. She said to me “Would you like steak or chicken?” Oh my dear Lord, she had me by steak….mmmmm….STEAK….arrrrrrrggglllll. It was settled, I reckoned I was gonna marry that Angel. The rest of the year was to be a campaign to convince my darlin’ angel of good red meat that I truly did exist and was worthy of her notice. The rest….Well that is all kinds of other stories.
I really should get back to procrastinatin’ on what I really should be doing. I hate writing EVALS. I never can remember if DIRTBAG is spelled with on T or two. I reckon I better get to it. Say, did I ever tell y’all about our Honeymoon? It involved a three-day weekend; a Yugo and we had to be back at school by Monday.
UPDATE
I have been reliably informed that Dirt-Bag is actually hyphenated. Who'da thunk it?
TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD
It was the late 1980s, music had reached its cultural zenith, spandex was good, hair was big and there I was, in the geographic center of the universe Lubbock Texas imbibing heaping helpings of steamy undergraduate educational goodness courtesy of Texas Tech University. Actually I was a wayward Freshman EARNING an abysmal 1.5 GPA for my first semester. Surprisingly, it takes eight semesters and 2 summer sessions to raise a first semester 1.5 GPA to a 3.0. Wish I'd put a little thought into that BEFORE my freshman year, in fact, I wish I had enlisted for a term and grown up some before I ever started my freshman year. Water under the bridge and then I probably would not have met my most best friend and Bride. What were we discussing….Oh, yes, how did I meet my darlin’ Bride? I was living on campus and like as not, I tended to become somewhat hungry a couple three times daily. The University had very thoughtfully provided a solution to my repetitive hunger issues by providing my residence hall with a fairly competent chow hall. The chow halls were generally staffed by student employees and as my residence hall was male, our chow hall was apt to be staffed by Serving Wenches and Scullery Maids from the female residence halls on campus and vice versa. One evening on or about November I found myself in that peculiar hungrified condition and I moseyed myself on down to the chow hall. It was a special meal night when the Serving Wenches and Scullery Maids dress up and serve you adequately cooked food from fancy sterno warmed chaffing dishes. I really hadn’t taken much notice of all that hooyah as long I was provided suitably tasty plate of chow; but that night was to be a little different. As I worked my way through the serving line an absolutely Angelic Serving Wench in a pink dress drew me up short. She said to me “Would you like steak or chicken?” Oh my dear Lord, she had me by steak….mmmmm….STEAK….arrrrrrrggglllll. It was settled, I reckoned I was gonna marry that Angel. The rest of the year was to be a campaign to convince my darlin’ angel of good red meat that I truly did exist and was worthy of her notice. The rest….Well that is all kinds of other stories.
I really should get back to procrastinatin’ on what I really should be doing. I hate writing EVALS. I never can remember if DIRTBAG is spelled with on T or two. I reckon I better get to it. Say, did I ever tell y’all about our Honeymoon? It involved a three-day weekend; a Yugo and we had to be back at school by Monday.
UPDATE
I have been reliably informed that Dirt-Bag is actually hyphenated. Who'da thunk it?
TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD
posted by Ed | 2/22/2005 02:57:00 PM
1 Comments:
Yeah! Blogger comments finally let me in!
Shoot...what was I gonna say!?!?!
Oh that's right! LOVE the background. Nothing makes me smile much more than hearing about people that fall in love. It's a happy thing - and I enjoy the heck out of reading this site because of the chemistry. You Two crack me up!
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