The Castles were all Empty--Asleep - Long Awaiting Their King

This is an excerpt of an e-mail, and the response, that cracked me up:

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...good to get out of the house,
and talk to someone who is not a cashier.

I have several cashier buddies in town. One is this kid (prolly 23 years old or so)
who has sold me rolling papers, and scoped my tattoos a bazillion times.
I can tell he wants to be 'bros"...he has that ratty ponytail, and bad mustache of a Metallica fan. He only ever nods at me...never says a word...just tilts his head.
" sup, bro," he is saying.
His e-mail is prolly metaldude4life@dickweed.com



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And the response:

I have some cashier buds, too; the ones who like me tend to be the prim, proper-looking women, who give me an almost vigorous nod of approval, sort of a “You look clean…and as though you have no secret tattoos” kind of thing. Their emails are probably things like Judy61@aol.com I give them the fake plastic smile of the suburbanite, thinking, “Man, if you knew what a pothead I am"… as I bask in the faux glow of their beige approval. ... I try to go against peoples’ expectations of my bland exterior.

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Funny how people can be so similar, yet so different.


Today is the 2 year anniversary of my wife coming to USA from South Africa. We are going to
go out to dinner. We were just thinking back, to my shithole apartment in Buffalo that I was living in (we moved about 5 weeks after she arrived--to a bigger shithole) and how much better off we are now (in an even bigger....)

It is also (one of) my sister's birthday. I think she is 42.

I am joking, I know how old she is. It is her children's age's that I don't know.

Guess I shouldn't buy that "World's Greatest Uncle" shirt just yet.