First Row, Lady on the Left: “I hate this stupid motorcycle club and I wish I’d never signed up for it. This is what I get for agreeing to do something after I’d had 14 Sloe Gin Fizzes at the barbecue last Saturday. Drinking just makes me say yes when I shouldn’t. That’s how I ended up sleeping with three of the four men who are following us. It doesn’t explain my hairstyle, though. I don’t know what I was aiming for, but I missed it.”
Lady in the Middle: “I just love this! I feel so free and powerful. And the vibrations have my tingly parts singing show tunes.”
Lady on the Right: “Is somebody singing? And why doesn’t Ruth have a headlight on her bike? What does she know that we don’t?”
Second Row, Guy on the Left: “I hope Lisa drinks some more gin fizzes today. We had some great fun when she pretended to be a Russian gymnast and I was her balance beam. Too bad about that dismount, though. Now I have to get a new ceiling fan.”
Guy in the Middle: “I just realized that I rolled my jean cuffs higher than anybody else. This will probably end up in the newsletter, damn it. Still, I’m the coolest guy here, even if I look like I survived the San Fernando flood of ‘58. Everyone knows that only using one hand to drive makes all the chicks throw their panties in the air. I think Sartre said that. Or maybe Sam. Somebody said it.”
Guy on the Right: “Oh my God, Wayne is wearing the same color shirt as me. It’s kismet. We are meant to be together. He just doesn’t know it yet. Maybe I should rev my engine to get his attention? Or maybe not. I don’t want to accidently rear-end Janet. That might give her yearnings that I’m not prepared to satisfy. Ever.”
Guy Way the Hell in the Back: “This is just like picking teams for dodgeball in those soul-killing high school phys ed classes. Nobody wants me on their team and I’m the last one to get to the locker room. Nothing says failure like having to stand there naked while waiting for an open shower spigot. But it did give me time to study things, and I can guarantee you that Wayne ain’t all that.”
Big-Ass Tree on the Left: “Thank you for killing me with the billowing exhaust. I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”
Mailbox Even Further Back Than the Unpicked Dodge-Baller: “Can we talk about why all of the women in this scene have breasts that refuse to speak to one another? Is it a gravitational-pull kind of thing?”
The Road: “I may be long and winding, but I have enough sense to realize that none of these people should be straddling anything.”
Previously published, considerable changes made for this post. And I should share that said changes were made amidst the lingering, possibly delirious, effects of my colonoscopy yesterday as well as the recognizable whiff of never being an initial pick for dodgeball.
Two more music-trivia references were shoved into this mess. Please update your spreadsheets accordingly.
Categories: Past Imperfect