Something-mania

I can't quite tell what, but some kind of exciting sports program must be on television because there are fat Southern boys stomping around upstairs and screaming "EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee!" intermittently. I thought it was football, but I heard the famous request that everyone should "get ready to rumble" and I think that refers to boxing. More confusing still, I think they mute the commercials! Don't fat Southern boys love commercials? I can't imagine that the howling and stomping and screaming comes to a polite end when the commercials come on. Do they sit down, fold their hands on their laps and wait quietly until the rumbling commences again? Whatever's going on, I'm sure it's somehow tied to lynching. Not that I've ever heard an actual lynch mob, but I'm guessing it sounds like "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee!" and I AM in Georgia...

Today I claimed the two trees that have been sitting in my back yard [read: uneven cement-slab area]. I don't know what kind of tree they are, but they could either be orange trees or some variety of ficus. They're planted in big metal garbage cans, and they probably weigh over 100 pounds each. My stupid yuppie landlady saw me staggering towards my porch carrying one of them and looked at me like I was absolutely insane. I asked her if they belonged to anyone and they didn't, so I guess she just can't fathom why I'd fancy a tree or two. I bet she'd have shot me in the back from her window if they were MONEY trees. I somehow got one on the porch and one in my bedroom, so now my apartment is starting to look--dare I say it-- classy! I probably did bring in a few hundred bugs that are going to grow to the size of hamsters by morning though, because that's what bugs do here in Georgia-- get HUGE.

The fat Southern boys have gone from totally cacophonous to dead silent. They're not gone though, I can still hear them walking around every once in a while. Perhaps my new and incredibly hot BRITISH neighbor spoke to them. I'd probably do whatever a British accent told me to do as well, even if I were a fat Southern boy. This BRITISH man, Timothy, is an airplane mechanic and he works at a small local airport. He looks to be in his late 20's/early 30's, is at least six feet tall, wears fabulous jeans, drives a bruise-colored custom Porsche, doesn't have a wedding ring, and must be FLAMINGLY GAY. I guess I haven't been squirreling away all that tea for years to NOT find out if a British man is gay, though. It is clear what I must do.

I wonder if British people get offended if an American offers them tea... and then asks if they're gay.

Thank God I start work on Monday.