Tuesday, Auggie 29, 41 A.B.
The following entry may seem slightly familiar. That's almost certainly because it's actually nothing more than yesterday's entry presented in a legible color scheme. Although I had BIG plans for posting a genuinely good, new entry, I decided to simply repost yesterday's after the opthalmologists of several regular readers asked me to.
I do things like this because I love you....
If this actually isn't a legible color scheme, it doesn't really matter
what I write here, does it? I could tell you that I buried the gold behind the big tree at the corner of Dunkin and Urbana in Richmond, Indiana. I could tell you that
I actually miss John Denver. I could tell you that I once stole a hacksaw from
two auto mechanics while they took a lunch break. I could tell you that, while I'm actually extremely fond of you and often dream of our being together "that way,"
I don't really love anyone I haven't already been "that way" with -
especially when I have no idea who they are. I could tell you these things because they'd all be illegible and you'd never know that I told you at all. Haha!
If this actually is legible, ummm... I really don't miss John Denver
as much as you might think.
So I was poking around recently and - just to pass the time while the damage done by all that poking healed - I got online. Well, one thing led to another (as things are wont to do in the absence of uniform state licensing laws) and I ended up at Jen's "Cracked Rearview: The Journal." Having thoroughly enjoyed Friday's "The case against the Catholic Church" entry, I proceeded to read the next one in which she (i.e., Jen) meticulously detailed the contents of her bag (which, although apparently the size of the Catholic Church, does not sport a single gargoyle).
Well! To say that I was impressed is an understatement. And I honestly believe that it'll continue to be an understatement even if someday her bag is revealed to have conducted a little Inquisition of its own against alligator purses (or whatever ultra-orthodox bags might think a sin against man and God alike in their sinful unfashionability).
All of which eventually served to remind me that I have not surveyed the contents of my own wallet since 1975 or so. (And this despite the fact that I somehow remember to brush my teeth at least once a day even though they have proven darn near worthless when it comes time to produce a still-legible I.D.)
"Jeremy's Wallet" is, of course, the classic in this field. If you haven't ever visited Jeremy's site, well, please - don't do so now. I am only able to write the following itemization of the contents of my own wallet in the belief that you have nothing better to compare that contents with. If you do, I'm screwed. Of course, technically speaking, I'm what is known as "screwed anyway," but still - don't make my denial of this fact any harder than it already is, ok? Thanks.
That said, here is (are?) the contents (innards?) of my wallet (pocket parasite?):
----- 36 Susan B. Anthony dollar coins (I hate paper money, even though coins tend to fall out and are somewhat harder to fold)
----- One Lima-Allen County Public Library Card (suspended once for reading while hooked on phonics)
----- One medical insurance card ("Our Motto: Of COURSE We Don't Cover THAT! You Really Ought To Save Up And Have Your Head Examined If You Think We Ever Did.")
----- Three photos of my increasing beautiful Significant Other (My motto: Never make fun of a person you might want to have sex with again.)
----- Something too gummy to come out from the pocket
----- My Prayer To Reason (written just in case I'm ever again asked to say a few words before Thanksgiving Day dinner or after a Republican administration leaves office): "Dear Reason - Thank you for continuing to guide us towards the truth; for safely leading us past the logical pitfalls and fallacies which have claimed so many victims; and for granting us the strength to overcome our natural prejudices and fears so that we may learn how to think together rather than hate apart. In the name of the free intellect, the open mind, and the emancipating imagination, Amen"
----- One card proving membership in Americans United for the Separation of Loud Patterned Shirts and Beer-Bellied Golfers
----- A surprise 4th photo of my Significant Other (which the other 3 apparently ganged up on and deported to wallet steerage)
----- A sheet of paper with explicit instructions on how to remotely retrieve messages from an answering machine we haven't had in 4 years
----- An American Civil Liberties membership card a friend asked me to carry for him the night we saw some men in hoods approaching us as we walked down the street
----- A ticket stub from the 1939 New York World's Fair (??)
----- A sheet of paper with explicit instructions on it for how to make a long-distance collect call using an 18-digit number for a long-distance company I think changed its name to something else about 1993
----- Portable epitimizer w/safety
----- First National bank debit card #5080 2404 9067 8778 (EXP 12/03)
----- Tampax/MasterCard #6040 8040 4005 06778 (EXP 01/02) (Donates 0.5% of each transaction to organizations struggling to provide Third World women with those feminine hygiene products capable of being safely dispensed by low-flying helicopters)
----- One overcooked strand of spaghetti (I've been looking for that all over the place!)
----- Blockbuster Edison Cylinder rental card
----- Forged Victoria's Secret seniors discount card
----- Ohio State Driver's License (left folded in the shape of a crippled swan since the origami class I took last summer)
----- Anatomical Gift Card (Special Instructions: "Gift-wrapping extra")
----- Western Union punch card ("Present this card at the time of ordering each of your next 10 telegrams. Card will be punched ONCE per message sent. Full card may be redeemed for ONE FREE Singing Telegram or TWO mumbled recriminations")
----- Business card for "Charlene's Certified Shoelace Unknotters, Inc."
----- Membership card in local arts organization, "Renaissance II: The Battle Continues"
----- Half a State Farm car insurance card (I could only afford to insure the front half of my Chevette)
----- Unopened, yet oddly empty condom wrapper stamped "Immaculate Contraception Co."
----- Clipped obit for Durward Kirby (dated 03/17/00)
There's more, of course, but... it's kinda personal. Sorry. My cat would never survive the embarrassment!
(©now by djb)