Throw on a Jim Croce song or two and write a silly story that has nothing to do with her but sounds like it might so you know she’ll read it at least twice looking for references to her.
Be very forthcoming and reticent to speak and make sure you provide cover for every reference you make that suggests you know what color undergarments she wore with a particular dress or outfit.
And if she questions you about it make sure you say you could never make a go of it because you refuse to live in a house that has pink flamingos and garden gnomes in the front yard.
When questioned be sure to sound outraged at the idea of combining such things because everyone knows the story of the great war of ’68 between the flamingos and the gnomes, it is the real reason there isn’t any piece in the middle east, not that anyone will admit that.
Why?
Because it doesn’t fit the narrative of the right or the leftist intersectionalists.
And there you have not quite 69 pieces of advice for chasing a girl and might I add for those of you who complain I am short a few notches, I don’t wear sweaters or shirts because someone else is cold.
I do what I want without regard for whether it makes me look crazy…er or smart…er.
You probably never thought you’d find this song linked to a post about alligators and I’d say that is cool because I never expected it either.
A teenage girl who calls me abba asked how big an alligator I could beat in a fair fight.
I told her I figured about seven or eight feet.
She rolled her eyes and told me it wasn’t a real question and I told her it is important for her to know that at 50 I can still manage such things.
“If I was 40 it would be different.”
“Ok dad, I wasn’t serious.”
“But I am, at 40 I could have handled nine, but probably not ten. You won’t find too many that can handle nine or ten. That is a pretty big job.”
“Dad, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Honey, you have joined a long line of members of the female persuasion who call me ridiculous. Some of them even kept calling afterwards.”
“DAD! I don’t want details.”
“Wait a minute baby girl, this could save your life one day. If you want to defeat an alligator or a crocodile in single combat you have to approach them in one of three ways.
1) Sneak attack! Jump on their snout, tie it shut and then throw them in your truck.
2) Call them a stupid dinosaur and tell them they are so dumb they can’t figure out how to tie their own shoes.
2) Make a list of three things and use the number 2 twice. Ask them what is different and then ask them to tell you the difference between Johnny Cash and Elvis.”
“OMG dad, I don’t know anyone puts up with you.”
“Nobody does baby girl, your old man is kind of crazy. Make sure you let the freshman, sophomore, and senior boys know that.”
****
That girl of mine and her brother told me a while back I seem to have two speeds, really serious and really silly.
I am not sure how true or how untrue that is, it is hard to have perspective. I t0ld them their old man is intense and left it at that.
Didn’t mention how someone told me when I get really angry I can be scary or how a few other people said I can be intimidating.
The person who said I can be scary said it is because I yell and when further questioned said they had never been hit or see me hit anyone.
Midway through I said I sounded like Trump trying to defend his own stupidity and we both laughed.
The kids told me they had heard grandpa yell once or twice and figured that I was sort of like my dad.
I laughed and said if they thought he had only yelled once 0r twice they had been suckered by grandpa. It made me smile though because my dad LOVED being grandpa.
He loved all of us too, but he took special pleasure in being grandpa and said more than once if he had known how fun it would be he would have skipped over being dad.
Sometimes I would look at him with a straight face and ask how he planned to do that.
“Planned to do what?”
“Skip being dad. Kind of hard being grandpa without being dad first.”
He’d glare at me with blue eyes that would go icy when he was angry. I’d say mad but he would tell you that only dogs get mad, people get angry.
I have been writing more than I have in quite some time because sometimes I get this sense the end is closer than we think.
Sometimes it feels like I can hear my own heartbeat tick-tocking like a clock and that I can feel the wick inside my candle shrinking.
It makes me wonder what I would do if I knew with certainty when that final day is going to to be or could predict it within a year or so.
There are changes I plan on making but would I make those changes sooner if I knew the time frame was different.
What would I do if I could identify the window and target things accordingly.
Would I buy three pallets of Viagra and a ticket to travel the world by steamer and then by plane.
Would I ignore it and just live as I always have and find out if that finish line really is closer than the docs believe.
Hard to say, I do it my way and will continue to do so. Just what that means is to be determined, now isn’t it.
The only thing I can guarantee is the reaper won’t take me without getting a beating in the process because it is what Wilner men do.
Might not be able to handle a 10, but I’ll always be capable of 6 or less and you can take that narishkeit and smoke it if you’d like.
Run at night, run during the day, just run until you can’t because one day there won’t be an option.
