"......"

"Chuck?"

"Yea?"

"Who is this...uh...on the stereo?"

"Steve mumble mumble."

"Who?"

"Steve Fromholz"

"...........How dyoo spell that?...... F R U M........"

"F R O M H O L Z"

"Ok thanks."

"You gonna go out and buy some of his stuff?"

"......No I'm just making a list of stuff that sucks and I wanna make sure I never accidentally buy this guy's stuff."

"Y...you don't like it?"

"I'd rather have someone take raw twine, run it through my mouth, through my esophagus, through my lower intestines, and out through my butt."

"........"

"And then let people play tug of war."

"Oh.....you DON'T like him...."

" Not so much no."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sometimes I smell like a barrel of rotting fruit

Stinking up the jungle under the hot tropical sun

Other times I smell like thick black swamp water

That's backed up into your toilet on a warm summer day

These are a few of my many smells

Won't you come and smell me?

Won't you share my stench?

Won't you come and smell me?

Won't you share my stench? "

Ahhhhh the DEAD MILKMEN! Memories!

No, I do not smell like rotten fruit...not right now anyway.

It's the first week of spring, and with it comes one of the first spring showers. It just rained here and it made me think of how smells trigger memories for me. I smell some things and instantly I'm transported years in the past . I guess everyone is like that though.

The smell of fresh cut grass in a vacant field always makes me think of the first day of T-ball practice. I can even picture standing around in front of the back-stop while they pick whose going to be in what position.

I smell motor oil and I remember helping my dad bleed the brakes on his MG midget. I know that has nothing to do with what brake fluid smells like, but that car always smelled like oil. Thinking of that car makes me think of the time the door swung open and I almost fell OUT going around a corner. I can still see the asphalt whizzing past my eyes as pop grabbed onto my belt loop to keep me from skipping into the field ....... where we used to play T-ball.

Good times..good times.

I can smell a certain perfume some random girl happens to be wearing. I don't know the name. It always reminds me of the girl who smashed my heart into a billion pieces.

Great smell, not good times.

Things change, you heal. The scars don't go away. Neither do the memories.

I don't pine for her, that girl. I just remember it. If I saw her again I wouldn't try to impress or want to start seeing her again, even as friends. I've moved on. But still, you never forget your first kiss. The first sex. Or the first one who made you feel sad enough to stop living. I have a tender heart I guess, falling for most anyone easily. Or maybe I used to, I don't know. I have a different heart now with a hard shell around the outside. It still has a soft mushy inside.... just in case.

It's kind of like a .....

Like a blow-pop. Crunch through the outside and chew on the center. Make a wish.

Blow a bubble.

What am I talking about?

Bleagh...

Just babbling today. Nothing really to talk about.

It was a good day though. A really nice day.

Rain always washes things away, makes everything clean again. Well, almost everything.

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I watched American Splendor this weekend. If you haven't seen it yet I highly advise that you do see it. Excellent.

Also for some odd reason, this movie quote keeps running over and over in my head. For the last three days I keep hearing:

"You know, when you were playing that song just now, I had the strangest thought. That I wanted to go in through the end of this coronet, down through this tube. Up and down through these valves, down this pipe, and come out here and give you a kiss... ."

" And why didn't you?"

" ..... I didn't wanna get spit all over me... "