My hometown of Maple Valley was hit with a massive dusting of dust this past weekend. This normally laconic town, nestled between Renton and Enumclaw, woke up Sunday and Monday with a dust covering most everything out-of-doors, including trucks (operational and not), and the pile of shootin' cans.
I saw this on the news, how far the dust had spread, how freaked out some folks were. This is big doin' in the Valley! There were news cameras and news men and news stuff! I knew right away what this was truly about. Dusting a few small towns is nothing new. It's been done for over 500 years in order to spread anything from water to wheat to hallucinogenic mind-control compounds.
I was pretty sure that Maple Valley had finally come up on the list of towns to dust. An experimental vaccine to fight tobacco-caused mucous? Perhaps. A massive coating of Splenda to sweeten the air in general, or the other use for Splenda, killing wildlife and sickly children? Hmmm... It's hard to say.
So some dust "Samples" were taken to a "professional science lab" where a "person" looked at the dust "under a" micr"o"scope. "." Their official release was that there was a lot of Cedar pollen in the air, and this dust was that pollen, but not in the air. Perhaps this is an issue stemming from global warming, where a few warm days and some decent winds spread the seed of the cedars to the far reaches of Ray & Myrna Jackfield's fields, covering the better part of their outdoor washing machines and cow.
Personally, I am keeping an eye on old Maple Valley from now on. I was always wary of the place, even while I lived there. As it has grown, so has the pool for random samples. But this... this isn't "random." This is some X-Files stuff, I'm sure of it. This is not the government. You can trust them. It's the other groups (Nickelback, the library system, whomever bakes for Starbucks) that you have to watch out for. Nothing is going to make me paranoid, mind you. Just keep an eye on Maple Valley. If I go back for my 20th reunion and the water flows upwards, the kids have oversized eyeballs and only one lip, and I only see half-hearted stripmalls and white people, I shall relievedly wipe my brow to see things are normal.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
This Heart Is A Reservoir, pt. 2
The amount of smarts, maturity, intensity, and wine it must take to run at Killorn's pace, I would stand in amazement were it piled high in a room. She is a friend of the highest order. If you let her, she can make you feel as though you've known her forever. If you can hang, your life will be enriched. If you can't, you are really missing out.
One of the first times I ever hung out with Killorn and ended up getting flaptardedly drunk with her, the next day she drove me to my car. Which had been impounded. And like a good friend, Killorn did the right thing. She laughed about it. If she thought I was truly some nozzle, just a twit, she would have said "Sorry dude, grab a cab. CLICK." But no. She laughed about it like I had just been the victim of a prank by the Universe, and not only was I starting the day off hanging like Grover, but I was already $130 in the hole, and wasn't even on my way to work. In my face. Ha. That's one reason I love her. She knew it was a "eh, tow happens" moment, so laugh it off, weirdo.
I have seen the genius in Killorn's writing come to life. I have seen her mind at work and at play. They are each humbling and inspiring, equally. If you give her a reason, and your defenses are down, she will DESTROY you. Then she will apologize, and usually mean it. She is great when under pressure. She is terrible when under-utilized. She will not sit and stare, unless Joel McHale is involved. Her engine runs hot. That's another reason I love her. She wants in the game. She ain't wearing a cup for nothing, even if it is on her face.
If Killorn wanted to, she could be President. Considering the travel, however, it pays for shit, so consider her "out." She will, one day, run the kind of company you wish you worked for. It may just be her, me, my Wife From The Near Future, and a pugnacious pug named Mort, but everyone will want in. Probably for the riches. Probably for the respect in the community. Likely for the philanthropy, not to mention the three-story high-rise offices. She won't say this to anybody, because she is truly humble, but she already has it figured out.
She GETS Tenacious D.
She's the cousin I never got to grow up with. Killorn encourages by giving you reminders of your accomplishments, not by cheering. She's had that moment. Over it. Whatever you know about pop culture, she forgot about it last week. Do not talk to her about Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, or Kevin Federline. She knows already. Lindsay LoLo isn't worth the breath. She is a cheerleader of freaks and goons, wanting to see them blossom into full gooniness. That's why I love her. Between a rocket launch and a train wreck, she'll go with Train Wreck at least 7 times out of 10, but she will ALWAYS hope for survivors.
Never cross me about Killorn. Killorn is Family. If you don't like her, keep it to yourself until you're out of my space. And MySpace. She has been told by other people that I would one day leave her behind as a friend. I have had a number of moments to do that. And I'm sure I have laid a few steamers on her doorstep that would warrant a firebombing. Yet as my wedding day draws nigh (check THAT off my list of "jaunty phrases to use"), I know I picked the right person to stand in the position of my Best Man. She is traditionally unconventional. She is my KillornsMan. She is my dearest friend.
I love you, Killorn, you stress-causing, Wynn promenade-tirading, Visionary of Self Realization, Life-Long Friendship, and Flow Charts. Thank you for introducing me to Alicia. I will forever be grateful, for that, for HAX, for Vegas, for Mexico, for Fremont. And many more. You ass.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
One of the first times I ever hung out with Killorn and ended up getting flaptardedly drunk with her, the next day she drove me to my car. Which had been impounded. And like a good friend, Killorn did the right thing. She laughed about it. If she thought I was truly some nozzle, just a twit, she would have said "Sorry dude, grab a cab. CLICK." But no. She laughed about it like I had just been the victim of a prank by the Universe, and not only was I starting the day off hanging like Grover, but I was already $130 in the hole, and wasn't even on my way to work. In my face. Ha. That's one reason I love her. She knew it was a "eh, tow happens" moment, so laugh it off, weirdo.
I have seen the genius in Killorn's writing come to life. I have seen her mind at work and at play. They are each humbling and inspiring, equally. If you give her a reason, and your defenses are down, she will DESTROY you. Then she will apologize, and usually mean it. She is great when under pressure. She is terrible when under-utilized. She will not sit and stare, unless Joel McHale is involved. Her engine runs hot. That's another reason I love her. She wants in the game. She ain't wearing a cup for nothing, even if it is on her face.
If Killorn wanted to, she could be President. Considering the travel, however, it pays for shit, so consider her "out." She will, one day, run the kind of company you wish you worked for. It may just be her, me, my Wife From The Near Future, and a pugnacious pug named Mort, but everyone will want in. Probably for the riches. Probably for the respect in the community. Likely for the philanthropy, not to mention the three-story high-rise offices. She won't say this to anybody, because she is truly humble, but she already has it figured out.
She GETS Tenacious D.
She's the cousin I never got to grow up with. Killorn encourages by giving you reminders of your accomplishments, not by cheering. She's had that moment. Over it. Whatever you know about pop culture, she forgot about it last week. Do not talk to her about Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, or Kevin Federline. She knows already. Lindsay LoLo isn't worth the breath. She is a cheerleader of freaks and goons, wanting to see them blossom into full gooniness. That's why I love her. Between a rocket launch and a train wreck, she'll go with Train Wreck at least 7 times out of 10, but she will ALWAYS hope for survivors.
Never cross me about Killorn. Killorn is Family. If you don't like her, keep it to yourself until you're out of my space. And MySpace. She has been told by other people that I would one day leave her behind as a friend. I have had a number of moments to do that. And I'm sure I have laid a few steamers on her doorstep that would warrant a firebombing. Yet as my wedding day draws nigh (check THAT off my list of "jaunty phrases to use"), I know I picked the right person to stand in the position of my Best Man. She is traditionally unconventional. She is my KillornsMan. She is my dearest friend.
I love you, Killorn, you stress-causing, Wynn promenade-tirading, Visionary of Self Realization, Life-Long Friendship, and Flow Charts. Thank you for introducing me to Alicia. I will forever be grateful, for that, for HAX, for Vegas, for Mexico, for Fremont. And many more. You ass.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)