…. paid a small fortune for my vehicle license today. It’s six months late. I say better late than never (shrugs). Also started the drawnout process of cancelling my landline back at the house I no longer own. Was supposed to meet Mr Ex, hmmm about 2 years ago, to just change the telephone account into his name (yawn). He never pitched. That’s an untrustworthy alcoholic for you – some say ‘if you can’t beat ’em join ’em’. I’d prefer to just beat him….
…..queuing in the post office for over an hour in the unrelenting heat, I noticed a company mail box to my left. The long wait was well worth it as I read the company name “PANCHA ASS”. To be honest, there were so many ring tones, alert buzzes and message sonar pings going on all around me, I was getting to the hot and slightly insane point of PANCHA SOMEONE’S ASS…..
….. I caught up on the final episodes of Sons. Keep your panties on, no spoilers. You may not recall my compulsive frustration with Jax’s pristine white tennis shoes. Come what may – shoot-outs, bomb blasts, beatings, his white tennis shoes were always, always clean. Never a blood stain in sight. But I get it now Kurt Sutter. My mind has been put at ease by metaphors of idealism and a gritty reality. Uh well, totally just presuming, or delusional. Pick one, but Kurt Sutter, you are one clever Son of a gun…..