Where the Deer and the Wackadoos Play
Joelle said around mid-afternoon on July 2, 2007
Anyone who has read my blog for a long time (and that reminds me, I should really get my archives back up) can tell you that I run into the weirdest people. Not just the weirdest people, but the strangest situations, too. Back in the day, I had a few sourpusses try to say I made it all up and while I am quite descriptive with my writing, anyone who’s ever met me can tell you: this stuff really happens.
Just now, after running to the bank and stopping for some mandarin chicken, I decided to wind down through the backstreets of Mission Hills toward my apartment instead of taking the busier, but more direct route. The homes up here are fairly upscale, albeit older, and the view is nothing short of spectacular. I like that the homes here are unique, not cookie-cutter tract houses and the streets are wide and quiet, like residential neighorhood streets should be. And the gardens some of these people have would blow your mind. I like that I can wave to the neighbors or smile and they’ll smile back. It’s all very neighborly.
Especially today. Today, as I drove down one of my favorite stretches of street, I saw a flatbed parked in front of a house on the left loaded up with giant deer. I mean loaded. up. I slowed down because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Giant fiberglass deer — like lawn jockeys with ‘roid rage. Giant. Deer. I swear, their asses were as big as my windshield.
So anyway, I raise an eyebrow at that and keep driving. As I near the end of the block where I turn to get to my apartment, I see a young, quasi-muscular guy from the back, carrying a giant buffalo under one arm. Not as big as the deer, but definitely bigger than your average lawn ornament. I can’t help but slow down, turn and look as I went around the corner and I swear to you… I swear to you by all that’s decent and holy, that he dropped the buffalo, threw a leg over it and made the ever-popular two-fingered crotch-lick gesture, followed by a kiss-kiss face.
And here, at almost 34, I thought I was losing my touch.
Moxie Design Studios™
from Houston • Cocktail: Mango Mojito
“You go girl! Tits are pretty!!”
from West Palm Beach, FL • Cocktail: Champagne Bellini
Well, at least he didn’t start dry humping it right then and there. Because, you know… that is just going TOO FAR.
from Chicago
*sigh*
I miss those suave, romantic, gentlemanly gestures.
But I would have loved it if you took pics. Where’s your fancy-schmancy camera?
from San Diego, CA • Cocktail: slightly dirty Grey Goose martini
@manic witch: on the desk! I was just running to the bank; I had no idea I would run into giant deer asses and a buffalo fluffer.
from Chicago
*snort!*
She said buffalo fluffer. And wackadoos. I love that word!
But…
she said… *whispers*… buffalo fluffer.
from hell
I must be your twin. I get weirdos all the time.
Like the first day on the job. 8am in the work parking lot, hoity suburb...some dude in a suit asked me to kick him in the balls.
Twice.
Can’t… breathe… laughing…
BUFFALO FLUFFER! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
from Tampa, FL
As soon as I read that he had put the buffalo down, I was totally expecting a hump. Thank God for small favors, huh?
Buffalo fluffer. Priceless...absolutely priceless.
Classic Joelle!
hahahaha Please remember to carry your camera with you at all times.
from Mouseville™ • Cocktail: Amaretto Sour
*snarf*
from Vancouver, BC
It’s precisely posts like this that made me migrate over from just reading your Flickr posts. Buffalo Fluffer indeed.