The Morning Excitement (With Art!!!)
"Shit goddamn motherfucker bastardly Christ oh my sweet lord what in the name of all that is holy is going the fuck on HEY MACARENA fuckity shitwife my bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R!!!" (this was not said verbatim)
It was coming from outside, from the street below. So, naturally, we cast off our wonderfully warm blankets made of love (and, as I mentioned, fire-retardant fluff) to see what all the ruckus was about. Because... and anyone that has lived in New York can tell you this... wherever there's loud swearing, there's almost always something worth watching. Now, granted, it could only be a Jamaican guy who sells stolen sunglasses getting into an argument with a hot dog vendor over a dropped dollar bill, or perhaps it's a junkie who dropped his works down a drain, or it might simply be nothing more exciting than a garbage man with a stubbed toe.... those are okay to watch, sure, but I think we can all agree that they're collectively not the most thrilling tableaux of city life. However, on occasion, that harsh line of invective just so happens to be spewing forth from a participant involved in a truly amazing spectacle of sight and sound; something you will tell your friends about for years and years, say, or perhaps use as the basis for a blog post that will win you the Pulitzer Prize (hint... hint).
Kids, I'm pleased to say that this morning was one of those all too rare times when the swearing was merely a prelude to the excitement at hand. For directly below my window, at 6:30am, there was...
A TRUCK ON FIRE!!!!
Oh yes! A big, tractor-trailer sort of affair... one that, according to the decal on the door, belonged to the NYC Department of Sanitation. And the motherfucker was burning alive! Or, you know, whatever you call it when an inanimate object is on fire. Flames belched forth from under the hood, a swarm of fireman raced around in their handsome coats as they hosed down the truck's cab as best they could. The swearing, it turned out, was from the truck driver himself... a squat, Italian man standing off to the side with soot stained pants and a look on his face that spoke to a sudden upswing in his blood pressure. And understandably so... the truck was, to put it mildly, fucked. The interior of the cab was melted; dashboard and windshield and steering wheel and seats all fused together in a hot lump of smoldering plastic. The body of the truck was scorched, the paint bubbled in places where it had literally melted off the metal.
It was a crazy scene, man, and I really want you guys to experience it like I did. However, sadly... tragically... in all the excitement, I forgot to grab Girlfriend's camera in an effort to snag some visual evidence. DAMN MY DISTRACTABLE NATURE AND LACK OF INTEREST IN PHOTO-JOURNALISM!!!
But! I've created something that's... well, I don't want to say it's better than a picture. I will say, however, that it IS a billion times more accurate than any mere photograph could ever hope to be because it's got heart, baby!!! Heart out the ass. So, without further adieu, here is my...
ARTISTIC RENDERING OF THIS MORNING'S CRAZY SHIT
NOTE: Clicky-clicky for the full effect
Yep, that's pretty much how it all went down. Incidentally, I really need to stop huffing oven cleaner first thing in the morning. It's just that nothing wakes me up and makes me feel ready to take on the day quite like it... hmm...
Well, anyway, that was my morning. How was yours? Any burning trucks and sexy firemen and drama and dirty words? Don't worry, I'll answer for you: Nope. Because you ain't C-dog, the awesome guy who has awesome stuff happen to him awesome-ly all the fucking time. Haha!!! It's good to be me!!! Except for the many, many reasons that it isn't, of course.