Over a breakfast at IHOP, the three of us discussed the importance of establishing credit. Credit cards, bank loans, check books. All that stuff equals adulthood. I still want to play in mud and neglect curfews. Owning a car? Wearing a tie? The thought of those things makes me squeem in my chair. Squeem is a word I thought I made up, and then I saw this http://squeem.net/#/home/ Catchy tunes. I feel like I’m in a sexy elevator. Anyway, my wallet contains an expired GameStop card and an empty wrapper from a candy bar called CupOGold. I left it in my wallet because I didn’t want to forget what it was called. Plus I don’t have any money in my wallet, so every time I open it, I see that wrapper and remind myself that 90% of the things I buy contain some sort of refined sugar. Being an adult is something I don’t want to do. Ever. But I understand that I can’t just run around playing kickball with caramel all over my face for much longer. This is the part where I whine and say “but I wanna” over and over again. Except nobody caters to my complaints. Is that what being an adult is? Nobody cares about your complaints? I don’t know. I’m glad I’m typing this, because if I wrote this paragraph out and reread it, I’d punch my own dick for having wasted so much ink.
After breakfast, Uncle Bruce drove me to see his brother Ronnie’s shop. He repairs Model A Fords. I failed to mention in the last post that Bruce has a refurbished Model A in his garage, which he is quite proud of. And rightfully so. He showed me pictures of the condition it was in when he bought it. Seeing it now is hard to believe it was the same vehicle. Listening to them chat about parts and races really got me excited for Saturday. We’re going to attend a car show of Model A Fords which will be hosted by Ronnie. Riding in one will certainly be a treat. Also I have to say that he built the house I’m going to be sleeping in tonight. In my opinion, one of the greatest things I think someone can say is “Yeah, I built this house”. I want to be able to say that one day.
Later on, I spent some time cleaning my bike up. It’s important to take care of my gal. That way she’ll take care of me. If ya catch my drift. I don’t even catch my drift. I didn’t know a drift was a physical object that could be caught. Sometimes I think a lot of people don’t hear themselves when they talk. Sometimes I don’t read anything I write on here.
We went out to eat with Bruce’s brother Ron, his wife Beverly, and their granddaughter whose name escapes me. I have trouble talking to children, which is strange because the majority of things I think about are childlike. For example, during dinner I thought about whether I would rather have a koala that could fly, or a panda that could talk. Adults were talking about adult things. All I wanted to do was pose that question to their granddaughter. We would have easily had a 3 hour conversation weighing the pros and cons of such possibilities. Having a flying koala would be a great conversation starter. But would I be able to fly with the koala, or would only he be able to fly. Maybe he would be a dick and just show off his powers while I’m just the guy who stands there and tries to validate my friendship with him to onlookers. The talking panda would be nice, but would he be a good listener? Maybe he’s a conversation hog. This is a really tough choice. I battled with it for basically the entire duration of dinner. I wish I could have asked her to shed some light on the subject. I bet she would know the answer. The window to pose it never opened. I don’t think in normal people society that window would ever be open. Imaginary friends imagine friendly images.