Left on my own to shop recently, I parked on the lot of a local outside mall thinking to purchase a soft, warm blanky for a friend in need of comfort. As I walked across the lot a large, white SUV with an unusual license plate caught my eye. The plate said, “MRMAUI”. I figured a recent transplant from Hawaii, right? Nope, it was a Missouri plate. MRMAUI from Missouri? What insane parallel universe is he from that Mr. Maui from Missouri makes sense? Was Maui, Missouri just founded? And why would Mr. Maui live in Missouri? Wouldn’t he be more likely to live maybe even in Honolulu? Conceivably he may not live on Maui, but he sure as hell wouldn’t live in MISSOURI!! I’m pretty confident about that statement. He shouldn’t be allowed to run around with a Missouri plate that says “MRMAUI”. The plate’s frame had palm trees on it. He even had one of those cheap leis you can get at party stores hanging from his rear view mirror. Yeah, that made it look authentic.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Mr. Maui
This is Practice
Here I have a spot to practice the craft with which I choose to define myself. I believe I can write my musings in Word and later transfer them here, forever live cut and paste. I'll post here to see how it looks and give people with time on there hands something to read.
I'm preparing for Porn Camp next weekend. I had hoped to find a couple of solid colored blouses for the photos but everything in the Galleria either dressed me as a frowdy frump or a hoor. Neither of those are a good look for posterity pictures. My hope is to do a little shopping Friday when first we hit Nashville and just luck into something.
This is exciting as a writing exercise. I'm reminded of first grade. They gave us tablets of paper with wood splinters still stuck in the paper printed with rows of lines. Each line consisted of a heavy drawn line above and below with a dotted line right through the middle. Small case alphabet went below the dotted line; capital letters took up the entire space. I remember loving to write on that paper. Those pages and perforated pages made my early elementary school years a joy. This exercise sort of puts me in mind of that. I have no idea what I'm really doing, but it's a fun adventure.
I'm preparing for Porn Camp next weekend. I had hoped to find a couple of solid colored blouses for the photos but everything in the Galleria either dressed me as a frowdy frump or a hoor. Neither of those are a good look for posterity pictures. My hope is to do a little shopping Friday when first we hit Nashville and just luck into something.
This is exciting as a writing exercise. I'm reminded of first grade. They gave us tablets of paper with wood splinters still stuck in the paper printed with rows of lines. Each line consisted of a heavy drawn line above and below with a dotted line right through the middle. Small case alphabet went below the dotted line; capital letters took up the entire space. I remember loving to write on that paper. Those pages and perforated pages made my early elementary school years a joy. This exercise sort of puts me in mind of that. I have no idea what I'm really doing, but it's a fun adventure.
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