Hotspur’s Log, Earth Date 0109130715. Location, Ohio, United States.
~I’m grumpy as that one dwarf this morning. NO not Sneezy, the grumpy one, what was his name? I can’t remember. Anyway, there will be no Scenes From A Morning Drive anytime soon, as all I can see is snow, snow and more snow.
The drive to work seems endless, and I wish I had a fucking Hummer, so I could drive right over that old lady in the ancient Buick LeSabre in front of me that’s driving like the road is slicked with melted butter.
The music on the radio is shit, the coffee I just bought is shit. This looks to be the worst birthday EVER. I need to focus on the good things. The holidays are over, the family is all feeling better, even my beloved Mrs. Hautspur, boy, she had it bad. I was pretty worried about her. Now things are back to normal.
Oh my GAWWWWWWWD. Traffic has slowed so much it appears to be moving backwards. There must be an accident ahead. Bluehair Buick Bag isn’t even moving an inch. Perfect. I’ll be late to work on my fucking 40something birthday.
I’ll be late for the cake, the party hats and the three minute oasis from Cubeville. Sigh….. Ok, what to do?…..Drink my suckass coffee and listen to There’s Got To Be A Morning After on the radio? Isn’t this where the aliens from the planet Calgon land on my car, cut the top open and free me from this hell on Earth?………Okay, I guess not.
I could play on the cell phone for a while, there really isn’t time to sing a song to post on You Tube. Who wants to watch a very pissed off Hotspur anyway. Everyone on Twitter is avoiding me like the plague, no one must know it’s my birthday. Whatever. They can all suck it.
I glance in the rear view mirror, not much else to do…..
Let’s seeeee….the guy behind me…I conjure a fantasy about him frolicking in the woods with the nymphs and sprinkling all the villagers with fairy dust….oh boy, he’s driving a Ford Pinto. An orange one. And the fantasy melts into oblivion….I haven’t seen one of those on the road in years. I wonder what that guy’s story is…
Hallelujah! The angels sing and the clouds part. The sun starts to shine and all the road kill is reanimated and starts to dance. Traffic is moving again. A snail’s pace mind you, but forward. Let the birthday continue!!
The workday drones on. Wednesday. Oh, farts. Who has a birthday on Wednesday? And you only turn 37 once. It should be much more epic. But I can have an epic pity party for myself at lunch. I’ll just mix together a little mouthwash, a few hot sauce packets and those muscle relaxers that Betty from accounting gave me when my back went out that I’ve been saving. (She’s such a dear). I’ll spread it on that one moldy bagel in the break room fridge. That should make for a lovely, hallucinogenic afternoon.
Hotspur’s log 0109131710
Okay, lousy workday done, now on to the gym for some exhilarating exercise. Just because I’m turning 4***** today doesn’t mean I have to look it. Warming up the car……toasty roasty she loves me mosty…..driving out of the parking lot, I could swear I see the orange Pinto out of the corner of my eye….nah, that’s impossible…that car probably didn’t make it two blocks past where I saw it this morning.
I notice a new guy at the gym. It’s hard not to laugh, but I’m trying to be nice. He looks like that guy from Pirates Of The Carribean. No, not that guy…not that guy either….work with me here! Yes, you got it, he looks like THAT guy. The skinny pirate with the wooden eye. He’s wearing a T-shirt that says THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE MOM’S BASEMENT. He looks like a fish out of Crisco oil and a trainer is helping him try to lift a barbell with very little weight. Why do I have the feeling that he doesn’t get out much? The poor guy struggles to keep his balance under the weight. Somehow, this makes me feel more buff and spectacular than I already know I am…..okay, that’s enough iron pumping for one day.
Off to the nameless big box place, where I will purchase big boxes of things to keep my family unit alive and well nourished.
Big box Cheerios, big box toilet paper, big box pancake mix, big box wine~ no wait, not big box wine, big box with many BOTTLES of wine, big box wine is just so trashy.
Can I possibly cram all this stuff in the car? Oh my god?! There he is! Skinny-wooden-eyed-pirate-lives-with-mom- guy…walking out of big box store with..no big boxes…not even a shopping cart. I KNEW IT!!! He’s walking over to an orange Ford Pinto. Okay, this is just more than even I can take.
I walk over to him, knowing that my good looks alone will be enough to intimidate him. If I actually speak to him, I just may bring him to tears. He has no idea who he’s up against.
I stare him down. He looks like he’s going to wet himself.
“Are you following me? Quit following me. Unless of course you’re following my blog, or my other blog, or my other, other blog, or following me on Twitter, or liking my facebook page.”
Ha! I’m sure that scared the daylights out of him.
“Edward Hotspur, I presume?”
Shut the front door! He knows who I am!?! Who is this guy?
“You presume correct, my automobile challenged stalker. What do you want with me?”
He gulps in fear. I can see that huge adam’s apple float up and down his scrawny throat like the big New Year’s Eve ball. Eeeccchhhh. It makes my skin crawl.
“Well,….sir…. Ispend a lot of time on the internets, and one day, while I was…..”
He stops, blushes with shame, then continues….
“Searching for “Do unicorns really poop Skittles” on the Google, I came across your blog.”
Aha! A fan! I have a real life stalker! I am somebody, I have arrived! I feel like Navin Johnson.
“That doesn’t explain how you found me, or why you even wanted to find me. So, please elaborate, will you?”
“Um, you see, I’m taking this private detective course, and in reading more of your posts, I deduced that you just happened to live near me. I kept reading, and researching, and discovered that you lived even closer than I imagined. So I decided to try out my new skills to find you. It appears that I may be good at this game. I mean you no harm, Sir, I only want to learn from you and be enlightened in the ways of The Blog.”
Will Hotspur take this creepy young man under his wing? Will he be the Yoda this wayward youth has been looking for? Or will our dear Edward dash the man’s hopes and spit in his wooden eye?
To keep the birthdaylicious Hotspurian random non-sequitor Choose Your Own Hotspur Adventure going, please visit one of the following blogs……
If Hostpur gains a new Padawan learner, click HERE
If he chooses to ridicule and humiliate the young, and youthful youth, click HERE
Oh be one of the cool kids. Click them both already.
Happy Birthday, Edward!!!!!