Okay, okay, quit your bitching already. So I took a few days off, big deal. Like I’ve said before, when you snark-seekers start glad-handing me with crisp twenty dollar bills I might – might! – start taking your “hey, where are you?” emails a bit more seriously. Until then, shut up about it.
And while I’m in that not-so-unfamiliar area of getting things off my chest, I’m issuing this snarky demand that the candyasses amongst us (you know who you are) stop this obnoxious glee over the stupid weather. I can’t take it anymore. Oh baby, there’s nothing like a bunch of pasty Vermonters shedding too many clothes too soon. Yikes. It sure looks like too many people took Paul Beaudry up on his plea to get Vermonters to eat more cheese. Okay, okay, enough already, because I don’t think all this support for Cabot is going to cover your fucking coronary bills. And, please, buy some bigger clothes already.
As a painter, I rarely run to the sun like so many Vermonters did last weekend. Because, you see, I’ll be in the sun all summer. That means I’ll be going through my late-spring ritual of looking like a lobster and then morphing into something darker than a David Lynch flick. Huh? Whatever.
My schedule is opposite to most working folk. I’m outside when you’re inside and I’m inside when you’re running around like a fucking lunatic screaming about the “air and the sun.” Been there – all fucking week. So when I get those scornful little looks from the goody-goody people walking down the streets of Montpelier when I duck into Charlie O’s in the late afternoon, I know I’ve already done my outdoor time and all I need is a cave and a cold one. What better place?
Oh wait, maybe those looks are about the pursuit of the late-afternoon alcohol. And to them I say: When you stop popping all your pills I’ll stop my self-medicating. Deal? Now shut up about it.
Boy, what got into me today? Wait, I know. It’s hotter than hell in this office building I’ve got two more days of work in and my Yankees totally shit the bed over the weekend. It always sucks to lose three in a row to the Red Sox but it REALLY sucks to lose to them while working for a total Red Sox dork for a client. You know the type: He wears a suit and a Red Sox baseball cap. Oh yeah, baby, sooooo cool. What a statement. Worse, he acts like he’s one-in-a-million for being a Sox fan in the heart of Sox country. Dude, get a life.
If that isn’t bad enough, this fella actually took that WDEV bus trip to Fenway Park yesterday to see last night’s game. Could you think of anything worse than being on a busload of ninny Sox fans – all pretending to be more fanatical than the next one? Good fucking grief. And he was all jacked up about it like he was going on a date with Jessica Alba. But, as we all know, Sox fans don’t get laid – not with that suit/baseball cap combo. No way.
Here’s the really dorky part: The WDEV bus didn’t get back to Central Vermont until 4:30 this morning and he stayed up, got dork-pumped on too much coffee, clothed himself in even more new Red Sox paraphernalia, and came hooting and hollering into his office like we were all just waiting to hear about his “monumental” trip. But he’s the boss – not to just the Snarky painter but also about a half-dozen captured souls who do his office chores and pretend to care about something more than his signature on the bi-weekly checks.
In other words, we were all captives to his nonsense all morning. Until, that is, he petered out just before noon and – as if we didn’t see though it – announced that he had a meeting to go to in Burlington. Oh sure. But, hey, it works for me, he’s got one hell of a computer and that speedy access manic bloggers crave. Thanks, dork.
Oops, gotta switch computers. I’ll post this for now and get to my other stuff when the kind little lady of the office sets up me with a new spot. Consider my situation kind of like the Vermont Senate on Friday: When the boss is away, the painter will play.
Back soon…
