Off to Oregon

My world has been pretty interesting as of late, with - you know - stuff. I've been working like a dog for room and board, which is good. I have also had very, very limited internet access, which makes posting on this here masterpiece a little tough. (I realize the term "masterpiece" is being used a tad liberally here, but hey, it's my blog).

I have an offer to buy a clinic in the middle of nowhere in East Texas. I'm gonna ponder quite a bit and "chew the cud" on it for a while, as I'm not sure that I want that much stress in my life. Or, if I want my little brother, Bubba, working for me, which he most likely would if I bought the sucker. Actually, I would love to have Bubba work for me, it's just a matter if he would want to or not.

Tomorrow I fly off to the great state of Oregon to pack up Cameltoes (a.k.a. Dr. Toes, a.k.a. Sir Toes, a.k.a. Sir Cameltoes, a.k.a. Corps Homosexual, a.k.a. Andrea Lover, a.k.a. Ally Lover, a.k.a. Mr. "I swear I won't go to class anymore, if you sleep with me."*). Shite, that's a lot of aliases.

My flight leaves somewhere in the 9:00 in the A.M. hour, and will make it to my final destination around 3:00 or so. I've got a nasty 3 hour layover, which I plan on knocking out some serious online poker, since I haven't played in the last 8-9 days or so (I need to get up on dat, I know).

Our rough itenary will be as follows.

Thursday: arrive there and head to Sir Toes' pad. Do what needs to be done and probably watch baseball and eat and drink beer (Miller Lite if you please).

Friday: Wake up and finish up with assorted packing of stuff the Cameltoes has left to be done. In the afternoon, we will pick up the truck and possibly start loading it, depending if Sir Toes has it in him to do so.

Saturday: Do the brunt-monkey work of loading his stuff and his ex's stuff into said large moving truck. That will take out the vast majority of the day, methinks, because Cameltoes is slower than molasses in January. Strike that, he's slower than Shelby (Lil N's dog) trying to learn a new trick. Strike that, he's slower than Big R trying to take off Lil N's bra. Strike that, he's slower than Big Judy trying to explain why he made out with the real Judy.

Saturday, post-loading of massive truck: Maybe, just maybe, clean a little and spackling of the walls. (No, Big R, I'm not talking about the crack spackle that you need).

Sunday: Clean, clean, clean. Take off for the Great State of Texas. Yeeeeeeehaaaaaaaw!!! Drive at the speed of sound, um, or as fast as the truck will let us - which I'm hoping is at least 60mph.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday: Drive, drive, drive. Unload, unload, unload into the new "Pimpin' Bachelor Pad of Love." Maybe have enough time to load up my stuff into the truck.

Thursday: Either unload my stuff or load/unload my stuff. Hopefully the former, because I have to work on then and Friday.

Friday: Start da "Pimpin' of Ho's**" Pass out from exhaustion from the most hectic 8-9 days of my life. Continue with da "Pimpin' of Ho's***".

As a wise black man once said, "Pimpin' ain't easy." You dam right brotha, you dam right.

It's gonna be a while before I can post again, so keep on keepin' on.

* Cameltoes really said that while we were in school. Very smooth dude. The story would take a little too long to type, but let's just say it didn't work. Poor, poor blue and swollen Cameltoes. (The last sentence is pretty dang funny, if you ask me. I'm still laughing as I type this, but I know you ladies out there won't appreciate it. Too bad, I guess.)

** There will most certainly not be any "pimpin' of ho's" whilst at the house, so breathe easy Annie and Short S (Cameltoes's lady).

*** See above footnote.