Admittedly, I had all but abandoned my blog. Not intentionally, not on purpose like how I plan on throwing out my son when he’s hit social puberty and is in a years-long snit, but more of a gentle abandonment, a bar night “Hey, I’ll call you later”-type promise that never quite gets fulfilled. Sad, but wiser and older, my blog and I were complacent having trudged our separate ways.
Then comes along Lou. I have a secret crush on Lou, and–but, wait. Have you met Lou? If not:
Alas, I have great memories of Green Mill peanut brittle, if it were not for Green Mill I would not have been able to go to Boy Scout camp Oseola folr six years in a row. I would get anywhere from 50 to 100 boxes of Greem Mill peanut brittle on Sat mornings at my troop 81 location at Perry & Topping KCMO and the start selling door to door for the rest of the day or untill sold out, for each box I earned .10 cents towards my camp fund. The expereience taught me a lot about a good attatude, people and good experiencs come with hard work and commitment, and one very important lesson was not to set my EXPECTIONAL LEVEL to high so as not to order more candy than I could sell. Something I feel our disgruntaled bloger failed to learn as regards to high of a expection of her candy factory tour (just because you dont like peanut brittle) I bet a lot of kids in your class did. You sound like you were a spoiled and ungrateful kid (you probly still are as a grown adult today. I only found this site because I was looking on the net to see if Green Mill sill existed so that if they did I could order some of their wondreful PEANUT BRITTLE
Lou, a wonderful example of an Internet warrior, woke my blog out of a deep slumber to post a reply to my three year old entry about a Kansas City candy factory. Okay, fine, that entry certainly wasn’t my best effort, and while a combination of chocolate and sperm seemed like an amusing mix at the time, I probably should have edited it a bit more carefully.
That said, this is about Lou, and my new, almost cult-like admiration of him. There’s something brave and resolute about being unafraid of putting yourself on the line like that in full view of the public and taking a stance, standing tall, and refusing to spell most words correctly. Browsers have spell-checks; web-based dictionaries are littered across the Internet; English majors and five year-old kids are an e-mail away, waiting to hand out advice on proper spelling; yet Lou, my newest friend, he ignores all that.
Lou is an island. And a rock. But mostly that island thing.
See, Lou knows things. He knows that the letter i abhors being used, which is why it ran away from “attitude” and seduced a in taking its place. Lou understands the letter e is quite the opposite of that prudish i and so he gives e what it wants, and liberally peppers “experience” with so many of the alphabet’s favorite slattern, readers end up with an e-gasm.
Under Lou’s sweet guidance, “until” breeds another l; “probably” has abandoned most of its letters; “expectation” doesn’t quite live up to its; and adults come in two sizes: grown and, well, something else.
I salute you, Lou, and your willingness to show the world you are who you are, no compromises needed. No education, either, truly, but that’s my Lou and I wouldn’t have you any other way.
And Lou, while it’s true other people would have been tempted to read my original post with tongue firmly planted in cheek, I’m thrilled you saw through such temptation and called me on my bluff. Yet I’m forced to admit, Lou, that not all I wrote was honest. I’m ashamed to say that I truly was never planning on buying a ninja outfit over the Internet so as to sneak in and decimate Green Mill’s Candy Factory.
I was going to buy a whole ninja.