Love Lewiston-style
An alert reader on Pine Street in Lewiston has stumbled onto a decidedly Lewiston-flavored phenomenon. A man and woman, walking on opposite sides of the street, yelling at each other across the roadway. “Wench! You don’t appreciate me!” “Well, that’s because you’re an unfaithful cur and a layabout besides!” “How DARE you, woman! You don’t deserve the likes of me!” On and on they go, shouting to be heard from the considerable distance between them and I’m told this is a common sight around the city. Turns out that these are people who can’t get close to each other for more private conversations because of restraining orders, so that have to pace and shout. Frankly, I find there’s an element of shabby romance in there. They might not get along so great, but they’re doing what it takes to keep the lines of communication open. Ain’t love grand?
Better late than never
Well, it’s only been 15 years but I’ve decided to watch that hot new show everybody’s been talking. “Lost,” that is. Don’t tell me how it ends! I’ve never forgiven you for spoiling that “Gilligan’s Island” episode by revealing that the island wasn’t haunted by a real ghost.
First one’s free
An extremely charitable woman wrote to report that she had discovered some chocolate graham crackers in a local store (I don’t want to say where for fear of causing a stampede) and then went so far as to relate that she’d bought an extra box in case I found myself without over the holidays. It’s an incredibly kind offer and I’m touched. Now, where have I seen this system before? Oh, yes. Crack dealers! They always offer you the first one free, make sure you’re good and hooked and then you’re theirs for life. Which is fine with me, actually. Gimme them crackers, dealer lady! I’m yours!
Seasons greetings, drop your pants
We’re in that weird shadowland between holidays, so when you meet a friend on the street (like THAT happens anymore) you don’t know whether to wish them a happy New Year or ask them about their Christmas. Personally, I like to cut those conversations short by asking oddball questions that still manage to embrace the spirit of the season. “You get any underpants for Christmas?” I will ask them. “Wanna see mine?”
Gloomy McGloomerson
So, for my Wednesday column, I went with a very grim, pessimistic piece and actually felt guilty about inflicting it upon you fine people. What can I say? I gotta go where the voices in my head take me. But for the foreseeable future, I vow that I shall write nothing but the inane, pointless, puerile nonsense that typically inhabits this column space. Glad to do. Now . . . Let’s see those underpants!
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