Can you believe what Russ did?

So, I’m in line at Kmart when a woman taps me on the shoulder and says, “I know you. You’re Russ Dillingham.” It took me by surprise, being mistaken for the Sun Journal’s stud chief photographer. If I’d been on my game, I would have dropped my drawers, mooned the lass and said, “Yes ma’am, that’s right. I’m Russ Dillingham.” I owe Russ a few of those.

Nuptial news

I received, via email, a nice note with the subject line: “WILL YOU MARRY ME? LEWISTON, MAINE, SATURDAY APRIL 2.” For a couple weeks now I’ve had that nagging feeling I’d forgotten something. Apparently, I was supposed to get married at the start of the month. My bad. The email goes on to say, “mold my heart into a fresh nest of pearls that are white and shining for our perfect love.” I don’t know if this lady is a stalker or what, but that’s some damn fine writing right there. I cried a little.

Does that complete your order?

At Dunkin’ Donuts on Saturday, I was about to place my order when the fellow behind me leaned in and said, “I’ll bet you’re having that coffee with cream and sugar.” It sounded like a cryptic phrase meant to transform me into some Manchurian assassin, but no. He was only referring to a column about my sissy coffee choices I had written earlier in the week. Well played. Shortly thereafter, I mooned him and claimed to be Russ Dillingham. Better late than never, yo.

They grow up so fast

So in Portland, they’re throwing around the idea of making a law requiring that a person be 21 before he or she can buy tobacco products. Let’s reassess. A person can vote, fight for his country, buy and sell property, marry, sue or be sued, and be tried in court as an adult at 18, but he’s still not mature and responsible enough to light up a smoke? Nanny logic. Isn’t it wonderful?

Adult prom

I don’t normally like to narc on people, but I feel it’s my responsibility. At the adult prom at the Franco Center last week, I was cruising through the parking lot when I spotted a couple getting pretty physical in the backseat of their car. Disgusting! Although, on closer inspection, it turned out they were just wrestling with a child safety seat to make room for a bag of potting soil. Which leads to the question: If I thought they were getting it on back there, why did I move in for a closer look? Am I some kind of pervert? I have a perfectly good explanation for this, but unfortunately, I’m out of space.

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