sweatin the small stuff

Here’s the deal. This morning I decided to shave my head but mostly I wanted to trim my beard. I had to drive up to Lincoln, NE yesterday and I noticed whenever I had the window’s down my beard would actually fly into my mouth. I mean it wasn’t a bad thing, but it gave me the oddest sensation of eating pussy with nobody there. So after doing my head I went to trim the beard, and everything was going well till I tried to even the shit up. That’s when I slipped and hacked this huge fuckin chunk out’a it. Goddammit, now I had to even the rest of my shit to match the fucked up part. Well it goes without sayin that my beard is now the shortest it’s ever been. It looks like I’ll have to wait a few weeks before I can go back to making the pussy face. Every man that enough beard has done this, it’s when you wet your lips and mash em together and grab a handful of beard and pull it up over your lips so it likes a pussy. Great for scaring kids and annoying women, plus it’s so much more effective when you gots a lot of gray in it. But like I said, yesterday me and another cat had to drive up to the National Guard in Lincoln to pick some equipment up. Now I’ve only been up that way maybe a couple of times which yesterday made two, but the first time driving up I got lost. What was supposed to be a three, maybe four-hour trip turned into ten. I’m driving along like a muthafucker figuring I’d see Lincoln sooner or later when I came upon a sign that said Minnesota five miles. Minnesota five miles? The fuck? I had missed my exit by a couple of hundred miles and had to double back. After it was all said and done, I made it into Lincoln some ten hours after leaving Kansas City. And would you believe that yesterday as we’re driving I damn near did the same thing again? We’re rolling along cranking the tunes and all that when I decided to stop at this rest stop for a piss break. I walk into the restroom and when I come out the cat with me Dave, is standing by the big wall map all rest stops have.

“Hey boss, you fucked up again, we’re sixty miles past our exit”.

Boy, did I feel like a fuckin retard. So after checking the map we headed back out on the freeway. For a muthafucker that’s driven all over the four-state area for the Man, and logged thousands of miles, I’m sure a get lost easy bastard sometimes. But it was a good day for a drive. The people that go out of their way to talk to me sometimes always tickle me. Earlier in the trip we had stopped at this roadside joint for coffee and as I’m at the counter getting my shit, some cat in hunting gear is standing next to me.

“Hey old son, pour you some of this here, that’s the real coffee. Yup, me and the boy’s are working back up in the hills near Mound City building us a duck blind”.

“Cool, I’m heading up to Lincoln”.

(and here’s the part I should have paid attention too)

“Lincoln? You’re taking it off highway 2, right?”

(highway 2 is the exit I missed)

“Yeah, that one”.

“Well iffen you want you can take 159 thru the back roads all the way to Lincoln. Might see yourself some pretty country back up in those hills”.

“Gee, thanks, that just might be an idea. See ya”.

I should have listened to the great white duck hunter, my dumb ass wouldn’t have gotten lost. Again.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"