Oh My God! It's Paul Teutul Sr!
by Antonios Maltezos
I watched a spider crawling up the frame of a mirror this morning. I thought he’d freak out when he finally veered right onto the glass. I thought he’d start dancing around like a tourist walking across a bed of burning coals. I thought his tiny little insect mind would tell him that he’d inadvertently stepped into the territory of another spider, and that he’d want to skedaddle out of there as quickly as possible. No such luck, but just before my mind could reduce the whole event down to the simple conclusion that spiders are stupid, I realized that this was more a case of divine intervention. It doesn’t matter that I was sitting on the bowl. I was having an aha! moment. Incidentally, this is the same crapper I’d said I don’t like to use because it shifts when I sit down. Getting stranger, hmm? Look closer; I told myself, you are the spider walking across a mirror, blind to everything but that other section of frame across this smooth stretch of reflective glass.
Hoy!
Whoever it was whispering into my ear after that, he is a cruel bastard, telling me that I should stop counting the white hair on my head, measuring the droop under my eyes, sucking back the gut whenever I pass a mirror. You are getting older, fool, he said, and time is running out. Stop ignoring that pile of editing that has moved from your desktop, to the floor. Stick to the course-of-action-schedules you’ve already written, stop making new ones. Uh-huh, uh-huh, I said. If it’s a re-run, shut the TV and read a book. Don’t waste what little time you have left. There’s so much to learn yet. Mmmm. I agreed -- much to learn. It’s time to change things up a bit, he said in his best Paul Teutul Sr voice. Challenge yourself! We’re always doing the same shit around here! I am not, I shot back. You are! You are, he yelled, charging at me as if his handlebar moustache was a set of bull horns. And what’s with the little spider walking across the mirror shit? I got a size twelve boot that’ll get you clear across a room if you want. Yah! Try me!
Serves me right for flushing that little spider.
I watched a spider crawling up the frame of a mirror this morning. I thought he’d freak out when he finally veered right onto the glass. I thought he’d start dancing around like a tourist walking across a bed of burning coals. I thought his tiny little insect mind would tell him that he’d inadvertently stepped into the territory of another spider, and that he’d want to skedaddle out of there as quickly as possible. No such luck, but just before my mind could reduce the whole event down to the simple conclusion that spiders are stupid, I realized that this was more a case of divine intervention. It doesn’t matter that I was sitting on the bowl. I was having an aha! moment. Incidentally, this is the same crapper I’d said I don’t like to use because it shifts when I sit down. Getting stranger, hmm? Look closer; I told myself, you are the spider walking across a mirror, blind to everything but that other section of frame across this smooth stretch of reflective glass.
Hoy!
Whoever it was whispering into my ear after that, he is a cruel bastard, telling me that I should stop counting the white hair on my head, measuring the droop under my eyes, sucking back the gut whenever I pass a mirror. You are getting older, fool, he said, and time is running out. Stop ignoring that pile of editing that has moved from your desktop, to the floor. Stick to the course-of-action-schedules you’ve already written, stop making new ones. Uh-huh, uh-huh, I said. If it’s a re-run, shut the TV and read a book. Don’t waste what little time you have left. There’s so much to learn yet. Mmmm. I agreed -- much to learn. It’s time to change things up a bit, he said in his best Paul Teutul Sr voice. Challenge yourself! We’re always doing the same shit around here! I am not, I shot back. You are! You are, he yelled, charging at me as if his handlebar moustache was a set of bull horns. And what’s with the little spider walking across the mirror shit? I got a size twelve boot that’ll get you clear across a room if you want. Yah! Try me!
Serves me right for flushing that little spider.
posted by Antonios Maltezos | 10:21 am
6 Comments:
You are hilarious. Gloriously neurotic and hilarious. (And grey hair is very becoming, btw). How I relate to this'un. But I don't flush spiders anymore, if I can help it. Charlotte's Web really got to me the last time I read it ;)
I obsess with every little molecule that reveals ageing. I thought us men were free of that. What happened?
For about seven weeks now, I've been convinced I'm losing my hair. I ask everybody who knows me to look. Everybody says, "no, you're crazy," except Melissa Bell who says, "Well, with THAT MUCH product on your hair you're bound to see through to the scalp!" and then says, "no, you're crazy!" But I'm sure, I'm sure!
Although two people told me yesterday they were shocked I was in my forties. And today I mentioned I had three kids and somebody dropped something from surprise. That felt good.
Yeah, you're weird and we love you. Even moreso with the distinguished grey stuff. Funny stuff. Thanks!
Neurotic, obsessive, and weird. With friends like yous, who needs enemies! Where's Jen? She usually has a kind word or two for me. I'm kidding. You guys are great! Thanks for stopping by.
She's busy communing with her public.
Sorry Tony! I've been busy obsessing about what's already completed, already published, already old news...have to get back at looking forward it in the New Year. Man, do I relate to the planning and replanning. Love this one Tony :)
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