Where you would never find me

At work the other day somebody quoted the Grateful Dead song “Casey Jones”.  I think that’s the tile, anyway.  It’s the song with the lyrics “Drivin that train/high on cocaine”.  As I’m not a deadhead I’m not entirely sure.  Somehow that branched off into me saying “you know where you’d nnever have found me?  At a Dead concert.  The weed smoke would drive me nuts!”  Not to mention the band itself, which I find boring.  Not just that, but just hearing the band makes me think of hippies in tie-dye and that annoys me; ergo, the band annoys me.  Fuck, I couldn’t tolerate being anywhere near a Dead show of any kind.

That also got me thinking about other places you wouldn’t find me.  So, a list:

In line for a McRib. This branches into the “things I hate” area because it has pickles on it.  Yes, I know, I could order it without it but the pickle taint would still be there, the ghost flavor of those rotten cucumbers.  It’s like if a woman has been with Dennis Rodman I know she could never be with me because his ghost would be over any sex we had and make it lousy by comparison.  So, the non-existent pickle on my McRib is like the ghost of Rodman hovering over me having sex.  I can’t deal with either one.

At the smoke shop. See my first paragraph.  While I don’t mind others smoking whatever they smoke, I really don’t like the smell and don’t want to smell it.  Or be reminded of what it smells like.

At a GOP convention. Confession – back in the early 90s I listened to Rush Limbaugh.  Then Clinton got elected and Rush started each of his shows with a countdown of “America held hostage: Day _____” for each day Clinton was in office.  I thought that was idiotic and it turned me off to him.  I’m fiscally conservative and way socially liberal; the socially liberal part seems to slightly outweigh the fiscally conservative part so I’ve grown to dislike the GOP slightly more than the democrats over the years.  You probably won’t find me at a Democrat rally either, unless there’s some tail in it for me.  Which, come to think of it, would also probably get me to go to a GOP convention.  But that’s the only reason!

On the beach wearing a banana hammock. I’m too fat and too hairy to pull that look off.  You won’t even see me at home doing it.

At a PETA rally. Yes, I’m socially liberal and I do believe in treating our furry friends well, but they take it way too far and way too stupid.  Maybe I would go to one wearing one of the cow costumes from Chik-Fil-A but that wouldn’t count because you couldn’t see me.

In bed after 8 am. Seriously.  I can’t stay in bed past 8 am.  Yes, ladies, no matter what.  Really.  If I do I’m gonna get all crazy and feel like I’m wasting the best part of the day.  You might get me back in later for non-sleeping reasons, whatever those might be (bedbug inspection, flipping the mattress over, I dunno, other things…) but I won’t be able to stay or take a nap, unless you dope me up with roofies.  Not that I’m suggesting that, just saying…

At a baby shower. Fortunately, I’m past the part of my life where anybody can compel me to go to one of these.  Ladies, don’t drag your men there.  We don’t want to be there, even when it’s for the woman we didn’t pull out early enough with.  We want to support you and/or your friends, but we also want you to have fun with all your female friends without us.  We’re cool with that, we still love you just as much.  Go have fun.  Without us.  And hey, maybe when you get home we’ll give ya a little something extra because we’re so happy we didn’t have to go.  That works both ways.

Buying anything with “Ed Hardy” anywhere on it. Seriously.  That shit looks like my daughter colored it with a crayon.

At the beauty salon getting my back waxed. You know why?  I already did that once, and ain’t no woman or man going that route with me again.  It wasn’t the pain, which was tolerable.  It was the anticipation of the pain after the wax and tape were put on, just waiting for it to to be ripped off.  That’s the mildest form of torture, and I’m not going to pay somebody (again) to torture me.  Not only that, but when I had it done I got charged extra because it took her so long.  And women, don’t even start with the “now you know what we feel like” talk.  First: when you’re getting your Brazilian you get to see what is going on and know when it happens.  Second, let’s talk acreage and time here.  It took me about an hour to get done; when was the last time it took that long to get your jungle busted down?  Third and lastly: well, I’ll leave that to your imagination, but send me a message it you wanna know what it is.  Back to my back: I wouldn’t mind having it shaved, and in fact that might feel pretty good!  Just no waxing.

I’m sure there are other places you’d never find me, but those will suffice for now.  Don’t look for me there.


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