A Few Things That Are Bugging Me
Lately, I have had an overwhelming urge to tell the world to bug off. Consequently, I am going to do something I have not done in a long time (but not in a galaxy far, far away like Star Wars)–I am going to write a post about bugs–specifically, those things that are bugging me at the present moment. I need to do this before I really go buggy.
Days in late August. This is the time of the year in which days are starting to become shorter. This bugs me because I know very soon I will have to drag the flannel shirts and winter coats out of the closet. Even worse, I face the prospect of shoveling snow and driving on streets that are icier than all of the skating rinks in the National Hockey League (Louisville is a city that lets Mr. Sun rather than people with plows to clear off side streets after a snowstorm). Sometimes, I wish I lived in southern California where the skies are almost always blue and summer lasts most of the year. But then, if I lived in Los Angeles, San Diego, Anaheim, or Rancho Cucamonga, I probably would be madder than a hornet trying to cope with traffic jams and earthquakes.
The personal computer in my Man Cave. I have owned my trusty Hewlett-Packard computer for nearly a decade. While we have had innumerable good times together, my computer is so old it takes it nearly forever to connect with the Internet. I nearly fly off the handle waiting to access my favorite blogs or to write down some of my great thoughts in An Ordinary Joe’s Soapbox. I know I should go to the garbage dump and junk the computer, but then I get bugged out thinking about shelling out at least $500 for a new hard drive.
The Chicago Cubs. Once again, the Cubs stink worse than all of the stink bugs in North America. And once again, I am peeved why I support this gang of misfits rather than cheering for a perpetually good team like the Atlanta Braves, St. Louis Cardinals, or even the New York Damn Yankees. I do not want wait until I am ensconced in my perpetual cocoon until the Cubbies finally play in the World Series.
Catholic Church picnics. Actually, Catholic Church picnics are more fun than a barrel of squirrel monkeys in a Las Vegas casino, and I hope to attend one before summer ends. Nonetheless, I get bug-eyed swatting bloodthirsty horse flies while I am eating a ice cream cone as well as bumping into hordes of sweaty unkempt people who are more irritating than a buzzing gnat. And I especially despise saying those words I have to confess to a priest after I spend too much money at the roulette table trying to win a shoo-fly pie or a potted plant covered with aphids.
Writing. I have said enough about writing this past month to make William Faulkner retch. Suffice to say, some days I rather be bitten by a mosquito than write a sentence fragment.
These are just several examples of the billion things that are aggravating me like a plague of locusts. Now, where in the black widow did I put that insecticide?
Joe’s Maybe Memorable Quote of the Day
If you are not bugged with bugs, then you are a bug.