Talk of the Town

Man down
Had my first good wipeout of the winter last week when I slipped out of control on an icy slope in the back of my house. Around 3 in the morning, this was, and as wipeouts go, it was as dramatic as all get out. I mean, I got some air time, bros. I was in the air so long, I had time to take a good, long look at my life and how it’s been impacted by these stupid winter spills. I even wrote a brief sonnet in my head about the experience. Mostly I just hung there in the air thinking about what I wanted to do with my life AFTER the fall was over. Twenty minutes later I landed, and you know what I chose to do? Swear a lot. Swear a lot and swivel my head all over the place to make sure no one had witnessed this embarrassing affair. Nobody had. I gotta admit, that was a little disappointing.

He was a quiet man, kept mostly to himself
Ask all you want, but I’m never going to tell you what I do out there in my backyard at 3 a.m. night after night. You’ll see it on the news someday, I reckon.

I doubt that my neighbors will describe me as “a quiet man” when the news finally breaks. More like, “He was an annoying weirdo, always out in his backyard doing creepy stuff in the middle of the night.” Depending on the time of year, that description may also include “… wearing only his socks.”

Tag, you’re it
So, Lewiston police had a brand new cruiser parked at a seemingly safe location when it was targeted by the world’s sloppiest graffiti artist. I can’t tell you what was tagged on the side of the car because it’s a family newspaper, but I CAN tell you that I believe there was a reference to the old cop show “Adam-12.” Priceless. Although, if you’re old enough to remember that show, you should probably go have yourself a nap. This whole thing must be very exhausting for you.

My shame is great
In other fashion news, I was hurrying out of the house the other day (something was on fire, probably) when I busted a boot lace. And it didn’t just break, it frayed all over the place, leaving me limping around all over the house looking for a temporary lace. I ended up with a green piece of paracord, so now I’m out in public with mismatched boot laces. Can you imagine the embarrassment? Sporting a green boot lace before St. Patrick’s Day is considered a major fox pass in these parts. Probably.

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