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11:13 p.m. - 2011-05-27
Friday Fractal.

And the pachysandra shall inherit the earth.

Or at least a goodly bit of my landscaping space. The stuff's everywhere. It crawled out of the front border bed and up the driveway alongside the house, then faltered a little when it got to the apple tree- the hosta beneath the apple tree held its ground remarkably well. (And if I might interrupt myself for a minute…who the hell thought it would be a nifty keen idea to plant A TREE in the 20" of space between the blacktop and the side of the house??? I have to leave it there, it's the only thing between my windows and the Barkys next-door. ) Eventually the pachysandra made it past the hosta then choked out pretty much everything else the rest of the way up to the back corner of the house, and is now (unbelievably) trying to pry up the slates I laid out as a narrow patio and dislodge the church pew that sits beneath my office windows. I've seen kudzu that was less aggressive. Even that dratted mile-a-minute vine is afraid of the pachysandra. If any plant on the place is able to heave tombstone sized slates out of its way and topple a 12' long wooden church pew, it'll be the pachysandra. That nasty blackberry cane is a criminal of opportunity and just sneaks in anywhere it can, whereas the pachysandra is a chlorophyll Tony Soprano moving into a new neighborhood. Nothing's gonna stop it and it'd be best just to give way nicely and then nobody's candy store 'accidentally' burns down. Know what I mean?

I saw and thought about some weird stuff on the way home from the gym this morning. When I leave the parking lot I turn onto a side road and then make another turn onto the main drag in Malltown. At that corner the street is four lanes wide in each direction. The street becomes progressively narrower as you move past each mall and plaza until eventually it's just a regular 2-lane road and you have to wait if the guy in front of you is making a left. So I'm coming down the drag and way up ahead I see smoke. Lots of it. Altruistic soul that I am my first thought was, "Crap! Hope I make it past there before the fire police close off the road and I have to go around the long way."

Right? Impressed with all the milky human compassion I ooze out all my pores, ain'tcha? Something terrible might be going on up there and my only thought is whether I might be inconvenienced. Like I had anywhere to be in a tearing hurry anyhow. Feh. I gross myself out sometimes.

I finally get up to the smoke. It's a huge tractor-trailer roll-off truck in the far left lane on the other side of the road. There's billows of nasty smelling smoke pouring out of the vertical exhaust pipe next to the cab. Nobody's hurt. The driver's standing next to the roaring belching truck yammering into his cell phone. Okay. We're all good. And I turn my attention to the cars in front and to the side of me waiting at the light. This is the most critical juncture, it's where the road finally narrows back to a single lane in each direction. You have to watch how people take off from the line when the light turns green. Often, too often, you get some anxious butthead who just HAS to get in front of the car next to him and there's a clusterfuck, but if you pay attention you can usually spec out who's going to be a jerk and who's going to zipper together neatly and time things accordingly. So I'm checking out my fellow travelers and the woman in the Toyota SUV in front of me pops open her door, leans out, and pukes.

Gross!!!!! Again with the compassion. Disgusted, I quickly dope out whether I can put the Hyundai on my right between me and Ms Pukes so if she goes again while we're rolling I won't get any on me.

Score! LA sinks another 3-pointer for the saints! Not only don't I care about the sickly lady, I'm actively and deliberately setting up some innocent Hyundai driver for a windshield puke bomb.

I'm telling you, pretty soon they'll come with their plaques and their ribbons, the Humanitarian of the Year award committee arriving on my doorstep like the Prize Patrol for Good-Doers to fete me.

I mean, damn. I don't know if this is some recidivist Catholic crap coming back to whack me with the guilt stick because to the Catholics the bad thought is just as sinful as the deed. Something I always thought was a really shitty deal. Also something of a loser for the church, if the thinking was as bad as the doing, then why stop at thinking? If I'm going to Hell for thinking about plonking Johnny Depp, well hey, I might as well do the deed. Of course this would require some cooperation from Johnny Depp and probably Mick. I don't think he and I have ever discussed celebrity freebies. Must rectify that. BRB.

Okay! That's settled. Johnny Depp is free to call anytime. I know he's currently swaining a few friends of mine. Ahem…ladies, I just want to say Depp plonking is a once-in-a-lifetime deal so don't get in my way, m'kay? Thanks ever so.

Mick's freebie? Since I sprang it on him out of nowhere he opted for the player to be named later. I'm cool with that. I'm not sure I want to know, to be totally honest here. Way too much wriggle room for a lot of needless self-recrimination and torture. What if he picked someone way different from me? Something which could be construed as smart, hey if you only get to try a dish once why not make it something you can't get at home? Yet this would be the worst for me. I have had enough and beyond enough of being married to a guy who lusts after tiny women with Betty Boop voices and no brains. Could. Not. Deal if I got zapped like that again.

So who could I handle as Mick's freebie? Someone incredibly cool. Like Judi Dench. Or Meryl Streep. Sigourney Weaver. Or someone not too physically dissimilar. Queen Latifah, maybe. But this is unfair. And hypocritical. Mick? Johnny Depp? Like a water buffalo and a gazelle. And I have the nerve to ask Mick to keep it in the close-to-me range so I don't go off my chump with hurt and self-loathing for being an oaf again. *tsk tsk* Just when I'd gotten to almost believe in my waifish and Doris Day-like adorableness when I wear Mick's shirts too.

Nope. Big old ugly crusty scabs there. No picking at the big ugly scabs, it takes longer to heal and the scar's worse than if you left it alone.

How on Earth did I get from pachysandra to curling up like an armadillo over my ouchie places? Weird vibes flying around tonight. Anyway, if there's anyone in this time zone who'd like some extremely muscular pachysandra, stop on by. You can dig up and take all you want, but you won't need much. Guarantee it'll bulldoze its way in and take over within two years of transplant. The blackberry cane will probably sneak into your car and try to hitch a ride to your place, might want to check for stowaways before you leave.

Serious thoughts and gratitude to our military to be discussed later in a less goofy entry, ~LA

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