Why I never leave home…
Blog Guy, don’t make any plans for tomorrow. I have tickets for us to go see…
Let me stop you right there. Thanks, that’s very thoughtful, but I’ve already seen it.
I didn’t even say what it is yet. It’s a horse race, so I know you haven’t seen it!
Ah. Right. I meant to say I can’t go because I’m allergic.
Allergic to what?
To that guy who will be sitting right in front of me. It never fails. Whether it’s a movie, a play, a church service, a colonscopy, whatever. Look at that cigarette dangling from his big mouth, do YOU want to sit through anything with him?
Wait a minute, Blog Guy. Maybe it won’t BE that guy. Maybe it will be three wild and frisky young women. Fancy hats, high-heeled shoes….
Look at me. Do I look like I enjoy wild and frisky? My family calls me “Mr. Fun,” and it’s a masterful use of sarcasm.
Well, I’m not giving up on you. I’ve got you pegged now.
You’re more of a quiet introvert, huh? Maybe you’ll meet a mysterious person from an exotic culture different from your own, on a voodoo mission involving the dead…
HUH? How did we get from horse races to voodoo? And the frickin’ dead? Is it too late to bring back that bozo with the funny hat and big mouth?
Top: A race-goer cheers as jockey Gerald Mosse of France rides Americain to victory in the Melbourne Cup at the Flemington Racecourse in Melbourne, November 2, 2010. REUTERS/Mick Tsikas
Right: Race-goers strike a pose before the running of the Melbourne Cup. REUTERS/Mick Tsikas
Left: A Haitian voodoo practitioner dressed as “Gede”, a spirit of the voodoo, smokes during a ceremony at the national cemetery in Port-au-Prince, November 1, 2010. Haitians celebrating All Hallows visit cemeteries to pay respects to the dead in a two-day national holiday that offers food, alcohol and flowers to Baron Samdi, the guardian of the dead in voodoo. REUTERS/Eduardo Munoz