Pistolburg/Drunkenhelm (the Drunkenhelm half)

“Wow Tim, you always smell good.”


“Why do you always smell like the beach Tim?”

She then expressed her desire to be at the beach.  No shit, honey.  We’d all rather be at the beach than at work.  Shit, I’d rather be [name any horrible condition here] and at the beach than at work. 

Instead I reminded her that it was way too cold to enjoy the beach.

She replied that sitting enshrouded in a blanket on a beach is superior to being at work.  It’s not often people read my thoughts.  It’s even less often that they then repeat these thoughts back to me…

She’s very right.

Though I do still prefer to be able to swim while at the beach.  I also enjoy the heat and the burning sand.  These are important aspects of the beach experience.  Just like listening to Funkadelic records as you walk the dunes.  It must be done.  (You could listen to Converge records instead, but believe me, it’s not the same.  And you will notice the difference later.)  The same as listening to Isaac Hayes’ Hot Buttered Soul on the way home.  All are routines that must be followed. 

At least until I find something funkier.

In case this blog hasn’t clued you in yet, my odor continues to be a lasting topic of conversation at work. 

“Do I smell coconuts?”

You probably do.  And if you do, that would mean you’re standing too close to me.

People don’t seem to grasp that you can really do whatever you want.  Which includes smelling like a mixture of coconuts and suntan lotion.  One for protection, the other for me. 
“Wow, Mr.B.  You smell like bubblegum.”

Oh, how I wish I could remember what that magic combination had been.

I should hire a mariachi band to follow me around on Fridays.  That’d complete my personal beach theme.


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