Santa and Rudy Guiliani almost cost me 2 Grand.
Those stinking BASTARDS.
Makes me want to become a Jewish Democrat just to spite them both.
But…let’s back up.
Last Sunday was my town’s “Holiday Parade.”
(..on a side note...God forbid you actually have the word “Christmas” when describing a parade that has F*CKING SANTA IN IT. Assholes.)
Anyway…our parade has the usual small town crap in it:
1) Floats made by the schools
2) Bands from our local high school and from surrounding towns
3) Rudy Guliani
This year, all the schools decided to go with “The Polar Express” theme for their floats.
This consisted of some schools wrapping up school buses in what appeared to be trash bags and duct tape, and putting a cardboard sign on the side that said “Polar Express.”
…oooooh….look out Macy’s…here we come!
The bands (a.k.a., “A big group of kids who can’t play sports”), as usual, all sucked.
I don’t think I heard a single note in tune.
It’s starting to lead me to believe that I’m going deaf…as every band can’t POSSIBLY be this horrible.
This is what I assume the practices look like:
...my alma matter happened to be there.
This was horrifying, as my wife pointed out that every kid in that band looked like they were waiting for a Tsunami to strike, and had hiked up their pants to mid-shin.
Either these kids have horribly ill-fitting uniforms, or they all experienced teenage growth spurts immediately after the uniform measurements were taken.
It was like watching a giant red army of Pee Wee Hermans walk by…but instead of playing their skin flutes, they were destroying “Frosty the Snowman” with brass.
..back to the parade…
…so, the usual “Elks Club” jackasses go by (like I give a sh*t about our local chapter of elderly drunk people who wear hats), our Chamber of Commerce representatives (“oooh…look children! MORE people we don’t care about!”), and random people dressed in ill-fitting Christmas-themed outfits...
...(like the guy dressed as Rudolph, who wasn’t wearing gloves over his giant, hairy, hands…passing out Tootsie Rolls…while reeking of cigarettes and bourbon)…
This parade of bad music, old people, cardboard and scary clowns continues for two hours.
GOD…when is this going to END?!?!?
…then comes Rudy.
Apparently, Rudy Guiliani was the only person running for President who accepted an offer to march in the parade.
Mind you, I live in New Hampshire.
This means that at this time of year, with the inaugural Primary looming near, we get a glut of these assholes in the state.
Anyway, Rudy walked by shaking hands with everyone. Which means that if he walked by me, then he is probably dealing with a two-week hacking, phelgmy cough.
Dude. Helpful Tip: Mucinex…it works.
Since I still haven’t decided who I’m voting for, I’m now leaning towards Rudy as he was the only person there handing out stickers with his name on it.
…except for that Dance studio chick…
…so my vote is down to either Rudy, or Lisa from “The Azarian Dance Academy.”
Really. It’s a toss-up.
So, anyway, we packed up and went home as soon as Santa came by.
About 15 minutes after settling back in, my wife came down the stairs.
She was crying.
“I lost an earring!”
She lost an earring.
A diamond earring.
A BIG diamond earring.
At the parade.
…and she’s devastated.
She knows she lost it because as she bent over the sink to wash up, the BACKING promptly popped out, rattled around…
...and went down the drain.
I look at her, trying to console her.
“I’ll go back to where we were, and will take a look around.”
I say this knowing FULL WELL that that puppy is lost forever.
But…this is what husband’s do…
...we make a valiant effort to retrieve something that their wives treasure…
...in an attempt to “get some” later on.
We’re caring and sensitive like that.
So I go.
As I pull into the parking area, I start scanning for the “RUDY” sign that we were sitting next to on the sidewalk, to try to gauge my bearings.
They already took the signs down.
I guesstimate where we were, and crouch down…trying to get a glimpse of a shiny diamond laying alone on the sidewalk.
Here’s the problem:
Apparently, sidewalk asphalt is made up of billions of particles of shiny, shimmering quartz. It was like looking across the ocean on a sunny day.
How the F*CK am I going to see a diamond?!?!?
I scooch forward three feet on my knees. I scan again.
More “Sea of Quartz” – nothing else.
“Wow,” I’m thinking….”This sidewalk sure is sparkly. SONOFABITCH!”
Is that it?!?
I turn my head to the right.
There it is.
THERE IT IS?
It’s sitting there…in the sand….the diamond.
Sonofabitch…I really found it.
My wife was happy. Ecstatic.
I was happy as now did I NOT only lose half of a pair of earrings, but I was also now off the hook for REPLACING said half of a pair of earrings.
But it wasn’t easy…all that quartz on the sidewalk made it hard.
When Lisa becomes President, I’m going to ask her to change that.