Sign you’re growing up: You drive past a parking lot. Pretty, tanned girls in summer clothing and swim suits jump up and down on the sidewalk, madly waving a “Car Wash” sign at everyone who drives by.

You look. Of course, you look. Who wouldn’t? Hot girls in tank tops, shorts, some in bikinis.

Of course, you look.

You think to yourself, I DO need to get the car washed. It’s been a minute, after all.

Take another look. She seems eager. And so does she. And so does she.

You’ve done this before. It is fun interacting with hot girls washing your car.

And... you drive by. The reality is, they don’t really do a good job. I’ll still need to wash the car, to get those areas they neglect. They’re in it for the fun. They’re putting the fun in fundraiser.

It’s a good cause, but on those weekends you’re a baller on a budget, the car isn’t going to get washed anyway. You just repaired the air conditioner at home and replaced the spark plugs in the car. Fifteen minutes with hot girls is not going to equal a clean car.

There’s always next time. There’ll be more time, more cash in the bank, and more girls. And time to run to the car wash to finish the job afterward.

Next time.

Autumn’s tease continues. I’ll take it. Especially after receiving July’s electric bill. Shit!

It doesn’t bother me at all that I’m relaxing with the windows open all night.

Yet, today at the coffee shop, one of the old-timers who’s a regular mentioned that the geese were already heading south. For winter.

Animals. They know about these things. Better than we do. We’re too distracted with things that don’t matter.

Like finishing that forty-third book. But I digress.

He’s predicting snow by Thanksgiving.

This makes me happy. Bring it. And don’t be wrong.

What i'm listening to:

Early Winter
Gwen Stefani
The Sweet Escape

August 21 is approaching. The big celestial event. Everyone is flocking to the totality zone to bathe in anywhere from one to four minutes of total darkness in the afternoon.

Yes, I’ll be one of them. However, it should be an impressive event for the entire nation. Should I decide to stay home, the sun will be in 99.4% transit by the moon from my backyard. That’s a bit of darkness.

I’ve been reading online about the eclipse. So many people have been planning their day for months. I guess I should be more of a planner.

My plan is to drive to the center of totality sometime Monday morning and wait. Bring a book, my iPod and sunscreen... and wait.

Thought about bringing a girl, but she’d only prove to be a distraction.

There is a similar eclipse coming in 2024. It is four hours away, at least... instead of only one. Yes, I’ll plan that one.

We’ll see how this one goes. There’ll be so many people. One can argue we’re experiencing peak Facebook/social media, so everybody knows about this. People will be flocking to this event that may not have back in 1979, simply because there’s more information and awareness at our disposal.

Not that that’s a bad thing. Even for an introvert.

I’m looking forward to it. Maybe I’ll meet some great people and start some lasting friendships.

In the darkness.

Bring it.

What i'm listening to:

Far from Over
Frank Stallone
Frank Stallone

Today, I realized I’ve dropped 27 pounds since McDonald’s stopped carrying the Chicken McGriddle.

Yes, the Chicken McGriddle—my life was forever changed.

Think chicken & waffles. Perfectly seasoned chicken with black pepper. The sensational pancake bun that makes the McGriddle so desirable. That syrup nugget.

And now it’s gone. My girl and I are in mourning. Seriously. What’s the point? Why eat?

I’ll leave you with this quote from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (book, not movie):

I can only assume from your cavalier attitude that you have yet to partake of the wonderment that is the McGriddle. Let me enlighten you. What happens is the One True God grows them on trees in the Elysian Fields using a heretofore unused incantation. He then proceeds to magic them down to your local eatery where whatever Ghetto Bastard cook your McDonald’s has rescued from welfare that week proceeds to wrap it in cellophane and pass it along to you, the fortunate consumer. You proceed to ingest this finery in the vain hope that your obviously overmatched taste buds can somehow grasp the delectable intricacies it is suddenly faced with. Is that egg? Why yes it is, and bacon too. But wait—they didn’t add... yes they did, yes they did indeed. They added cheese. And then, then my friends, they wrapped it up in a sumptuous pancake bun! As your taste buds try to process that amazing piece of information, IT hits them... the syrup nugget. THE MOTHERFUCKING SYRUP NUGGET! It announces itself with a burst of confectionary grandiosity the likes of which your palate has never seen.

Yeah, it’s kinda like that.

What i'm listening to:

The Loophole
Garfunkel and Oates
Secretions

It is only late-July/early-August, but the weather has been absolutely sensational out. After a couple of weeks of blistering heat, it’s a relief to have the A/C off and the windows open.

And the sleep. Oh, I love sleeping with the windows open.

It is early though. Too early for the beautiful Autumn to re-enter my life.

She’s teasing. Oh, how she can tease.

I’ll let her. I’ll enjoy Autumn’s visit while it lasts.

What i'm listening to:

Layla
Derek and the Dominos
Layla and Other Assorted...