Guess what, heh heh ... I got out of the house, heh heh ...
What I did -- and before I say this, let me assure everyone that I am 100% straight -- is to put on one of Grandma's dresses, some of her hose with the racing stripe up the back, a pair of her big black block shoes, and fashion a white wig out of a brown wig and some flour.
Then I went limping out the door at about 10 steps a minute, inching myself very slowly to the garage. I had my laptop under my dress, with the rounded corners down by my belly, sticking out like low lying fruit, if you catch my drift. I inched into the garage. I glanced over my granny glasses and could see a few industrial spies in the maple tree by the well, and off a short distance a few reserves in one of the pussy willow trees.
I slumped down behind the wheel, looking very realistic as an old woman driving. I could barely see over the wheel. But no matter, I know this driveway well enough to get out without hitting anything. They didn't appear to notice it was me, although I did see an underling trying to explain to one of the bosses something with excited gestures. But the old man brushed him off and fell back to sleep.
So I'm at the college library, looking very much like an non-traditional student working on her homework. But what I'm actually doing is posting this blog. Two days in a row. I'm outsmarting these jokers left and right!
If you don't recall the situation here, and I don't see how anyone could forget it, the powers that be at the city's industrial section, in league with the industrial sections of other towns, are trying to smoke out an apology from me for daring to question them. It's my contention that the industrial section of town is a public nuisance, despite their protests that they provide a needed service, employment and products. That's crap!
Who needs monster truck tires, really? They're using up rubber that would best be used by future generations, who will have developed their minds sufficiently to realize that we only need regular sized tires. Then there's all the other problems noticed in the industrial section, like trucks speeding by and sucking down all the grass and weeds into the mud. It's unsanitary. Not to mention the black smoke that blacks out the sun on a daily basis.
They live like the devil, yet they expect me to practice the etiquette of apologizing for my harsh words. Well, like I said the other day, they can kiss this side, then they can kiss this side. And I think you know what that means. It's the part usually covered by the backside of my pants. In the immediate vicinity of my underpants except when I'm taking a shower, then it's exposed in the privacy of my bathroom. Am I being clear enough?
So suddenly they expect etiquette, niceness! They demand it! But as long as I have life and breath, however long that might be, I will not buckle, I will not bend!
I guess that's enough for the night. But speaking of the bathroom, which one should I use, since I have to go? I'm in this dress and wig, I guess I'm going to have to get in and out of the ladies' without getting busted.