I don't miss the yelling, eitherSeptember 23 2005 at 9:10 AM
|frank (no login)|
Response to I Don't Know...
With gasoline prices attempting to reach the moon, pooling together with some friends to defray the cost of a topfree/freeballing idyll in the country was practical. This jaunt was partly my retirement( and segue into working at home full-time)and to msrk my 16th year of being 'out'. I took some good-natured jabs verbally, administering some withering bon mots myself.
Despite being s goodly distance from thoroughfares or trails, boors and despoilers of our gathering, armed with paparazzi-class binoculars took their best vocal shots from their semi-concealment.
Well within our rights on private acreags, we exchanged escalating repartee, until they ran out of material, or dejectedly saw our band of six were intractable.
It wasn't easy reverting back to an easygoing mood after such a disruption. What was sad, was that of the pair, they hadn't an original desultory epithet between them.
I usually save my yelling for my first of the month bills,or after a thumb-hit with a hammer. And, to their credit, the ladies scored telling retaliatory sarcastic strikes verbally.
On our way back to the city last night, instead of seeing the disruption as a downer, we dubbed it an extra attempted added detraction, failing like Bush's attempt to 'damage control' his way over Katrina.