Topsy-turvy, filled with scurvy

I've been informed that that some of you are 'sharing' my work with others. Now, I'm flattered, I suppose, in a decidedly unceremonious way, but I should warn you, you do so at the risk of alienating them for all time. However, if you insist upon this unadvised practice, I feel it necessary to give them a little background information. Those who’ve not read my work previously may not yet be aware of it, so I’ll be the first to inform you: I’m dull. On an ordinary day, I can be seen wandering into many places: the local bowling alley, my den, or perhaps even the Dollar Store, a short three block-dawdle away, if I need more Scotch tape or maybe an Elmer’s glue refill. Outwardly, it would appear that I shlepp along the road of life without reason or purpose.

Sometimes I like to whistle or hum the song that I last heard on the background radio playing at the last place I went into, but not if it’s heavy metal or rap.

Once, I heard some mewing in a dumpster behind McDonald’s and upon further examination I found a litter of kitties. They even let me keep one. I named it Mullet.

I’ve plodded my way through high school, a half semester of junior college, three houses, two seven-year marriages, a series of mindless jobs and the occasional boat show or travel exposition. Little by way of lasting legacy can be attributed to my earthly presence, with the possible exception of the occasional knocked-over coffee cup or that slightly embarrassing experience when the security guard at Wal-Mart mistook me for a terrorist simply because I screamed a little when I thought snakes were attacking me.

Once, I accidentally slapped a soda out of a guy’s hand in line at the movie theatre because I (mistakenly) thought it might contain cyanide, but now we’re good friends. It turns out he likes Jimi Hendrix, too.

One day, I stopped in at Walgreen’s and messed up the gum rack by handling the merchandise. It turns out they don’t like it when the Wrigley’s Spearmint is mixed in with Beech-Nut, Fruit Stripe and Cinn-a-Burst. Apparently, it confuses folks who look for the package color rather than the name. Who knew?

Did you know that Johnny “Guitar” Watson was the first person to use the word ‘feedback’ while recording the song Space Jam in 1963? I found this out while researching all things yellow at the library. Did I mention I tend to get sidetracked?

Sitting here in my recliner, I’m pretty content with my life for the most part. My cousin keeps trying to get me to move to North Dakota and work with him at the window-blinds factory in Minot (he says that they’re always hiring), but I’m not sure I could handle all the hustle and bustle of the big city. So, if you insist upon e-mailing this to a person or persons whose friendship you enjoy, I can't stop you. Have at it... as for me, I think I’ll just sit awhile and pet Mullet. And dream of the color yellow.