A Half Hour Walk Into Funny

There's not much thematically funny going on today other than a dark blue shirt I'm wearing in 150% humidity blotching up like a litmus test for fashion faux pas.

Hi, I'm with spotty.

So instead of surfing the net or chatting with colleagues over sports scores whose meaning I cannot even begin to fathom, I'm off for a quick walk to see what's funny out there.

Then there are the tree trimmers. Nomadic tribesmen of the mid-Atlantic states who wander on camel from village to village, putting on off color shows with flashing branches Saturday nights.

Not really. Just crews of utility workers carving up space around high tension wires so that the freezing rain can more thoroughly coat them and bring them down for the next blackout.

In an alternate world, (well, hell, I live in one, don't I?) I can see crews of beavers felling utility poles to more adequately provide breathing room for the tree branches. Damned humans, if it weren't for the congress of aquatic mammals and their insane environmental regulations, we could dynamite these white assed sapiens the way we used to in the fifties.

So off they go, the utility crews, cutting branches and feeding them into the chipper which responds with a satisfied roar every time another limb gets consumed. I quicken my pace. Somehow I don't want to be around to hear the next roar followed by the words: "Whoops. Can we do a quick headcount?"

The townhomes built across the street from the office parking lot are almost finished and I'm waiting for the billboard to go up naming the project something like "Majestic Vistas."

"Fine in town living, close to work, don't fake calling in sick. That's your boss's window right over there."

Its like the "streets" in the mondo apartment complex. All named after something somewhere that has nothing to do with the slab of asphalt that's actually there. "Society Hill Court", "Cold Stream Run".

How about "Illegally Parked Meadows" or "Cops Get Called Every Saturday Circle?"

And now its time to turn back as I pass my friend who has ensured that somehow she and I never have similar running schedules.

"Thought you were running today?" she calls out.

"Did you? Then why are you running?"

"Well, away, I'm running away."

"As well you should. I'm dreaming up story ideas and if you linger, you're likely to be pilloried or quoted."

Never seen her sprint quite that fast...