Monday, November 21, 2005

~over it~

Yeah... as in way over it, over the hill, had it. My daughter once summed it up nicely: she was at the Orlando office with a girlfriend of hers from UCF... the yummy Heather, I believe... one of those girls who is just drop dead good looking and totally oblivious to the fact that guys were walking into walls behind her... Katie was in the office doing something, I really can't remember what, and there were a gaggle of young bondsmen in there waiting for the phone to ring, and here comes these college girls giggling and twittering... My guy Billy
Burden was in there and he was inspecting the nubile merchandise as only he is prone to do... anyhow, Kathryn jumped in his shit--- "you quit looking at my friend's butt you you you bondsman!" Well, I was sitting out there too, staring out the window at the traffic creeping by on
Colonial Drive.
So I perked up and said, "I was looking too" and Katie said... "Oh Daddy. It doesn't matter if YOU look.... You're OLD!"

Thanks kid.

I got a message that my oldest budd from Sumter County ,Bob Valentine, died this morning. So long, Bob. His father's farm and my grandfather's muckland butted together at the Umatilla Muck Flats, a open piece of swamp that those guys made a living off of for about the last three centuries. Valentine was a little bit older than me. I think he was about ten years ahead of me... and a whole lot more of a "rounder" than me. Old time drinkier, partier, whore monger, watermelon grower, truck driving country boy. He and I always got along because he was the kind of guy who would throw a hundred dollar bill on the bar and say... come on guys. Let's drink that up then I'll see if I've got another one. He used to buy a brand new Lincoln
Continental every year and then beat it to death wallowing arround in watermelon fields trying to get his trucks unstuck from the muck. Shit like that. Work hard, play hard, carried a handgun to settle any arguments. Chewed Redman chewing tobacco and was fastidious enough to not spit into a cup, but would open the door of that Lincoln and then spit out onto the road. That was always a thrill when he'd had a few Buds and was driving on the Church Hill Road outside Center Hill at two in the morning, trying to get back to his Daddy's barn without hitting anything.

God damn it. We all have to die. It just chaps my ass to have guys the same age as me leave before me.