Tag and the Ice Cream Man

Tagged

The ever-charming and simply adorable, Claudia was kind enough to tag me. I have to answer these with one word. How the hell is a bablatrice supposed to answer with only ONE word? Oh well, here we go.

Yourself: Kooky
Your partner: missed
Your hair: reddish
Your mother: spineless
Your father: dickhole
Your favorite item: piano
Your dream last night: freaky
Your favorite drink: tea
Your dream car: chauffeured
Dream home: cottage
The room you are in: spare
Your fear: clowns
What you are great at: laughing
Where you want to be in 10 years: beach
Who you hung out with last night: myself
You're not: graceful
One of your wish list items: wisdom
The last thing you did: peed
You are wearing: contacts
Your favorite weather: fall
Your favorite book: well-written
Last thing you ate: potato
Your life: arriving
Your mood: relaxed
Your best friend: Stace
What are you thinking about right now: hair
Your car: demonic
What are you doing at the moment: typing
Relationship status: unfortunate
What is on your t.v: nada
When is the last time you laughed: tonight

So, I'm going to tag: The Pope - just 'cause I think his answers would totally rock, Church Sign Guy - so I can see if we really are as compatible as I think, and anyone wearing green pants with a purple shirt right now.

I'm Your Ice Cream Man

When I got home this afternoon, I could hear the ice cream truck in the distance, and the song it was playing was Turkey in the Straw. Only in Arkansas, people. Anyway, a few minutes later there was a frantic knock at my door and 3 sweaty, wild-eyed kids around 10-ish were standing there. Empty handed, antsy, and looking askance at one another. And to make the story more interesting, I'm pretty sure they were packing. At least one kept reach for a bulge in her sock. And she kept giving me the crazy eye. Here's how the conversation went.

Neighborhood Gang Leader: "Hello, we're accepting donations for the veteran...I mean the veterinary...um...veterinarian ....yeah...down the street. He's down the street. All we're asking for is a dollar."

Me: "I'm not interested."

Neighborhood Gang Leader: "Well, we'll take less than a dollar."

Me: "No thanks."

Very Tenacious Neighborhood Gang Leader: " Every little penny helps."

Me: "Does the veterinarian drive an ice cream truck?."

Wide-Eyed Totally Busted Neighborhood Gang Leader: "Um..no..okay...uh...thanks anyway."

Then they damn near tripped over one another trying to make it down the stairs. Now, I have to give the thievin' little bastards credit for creativity and for having the gonads to try this. But their story was pretty lame. A veterinarian? C'mon kids, you should've stuck with veteran. You know, the veteran who just gave his life-savings to his sister so she could have a liver transplant, and now he and his 5 kids are surviving on half-eaten reuben sandwiches they dig out of dumpsters. And his wife left him for the veterinarian because she got tired of eating corned-beef. That veteran may have snagged you some ice cream money.

Besides, there isn't a veterinarian down the street.

The thing is, if they'd told me that they just wanted money for ice cream, I would have gladly given them their dollar, or three. The thievin' little bastards.

Take Care,
Babs