You People Are Really a Lot of Fun

Ol' Hoss began yesterday telling you how he spends his day. This is more. Most of it is spent with you. It's really exciting because you get to watch me type fast. Mostly I am visiting other writers (now up to 103; added a guy yesterday).

7:05 a.m. I take a sip of Pero, the barley/rabbit doodoo concoction. No caffeine. Switch to root beer (Dad's). Caffeine sustains me while I walk to England to visit some of the men in my life. First is my buddy Shane, whose style of writing is mesmerizing. I drop in on my buddy Latigo Flint, "the greatest quickdraw the world has ever known" (and that you never heard of). He lives in the L.A. area, maybe with Luther Burbank, and where he hustles the Starbuck's waitress. He is guaranteed fun 4-5 times a week. In Kentucky, I visit a prison guard, Lejnd, who has fascinating stories about life in stir; a guy in St. Louis, Dave Morris, who can make money doing radio voiceovers because he has such a beautiful set of pipes (and a mighty fine wit in his b**g and in his comments to others); then off to Massachusetts to find The Pointmeister, Mike Ashley, a comic who finds some great stuff for my (your) amusement; a fella up in St. Paul, Chris Cope, a professional writer who speaks Welsh in his spare time to cover for the fact that he used to live in Fargo; Big Dave, a talented writer over in Michigan who is burdened by having his Daddy watching him like a hawk; and my longtime buddy Se7en, another template designer who did this very one for his chum Ol' Hoss. Se7en lives lived in New Orleans and his house got half-full of water.

7:25 a.m. -- Another potty run. Seat up, or down? Am in a hurry, so seat down. Cleaning lady comes today.

7:27 a.m. -- I do not forget my pal Debi over there in the Channel Island of Jersey. See it down there at the bottom? She is dynamite with "Jersey facts." Debi has four children and the typical travails. It is interesting to follow her mood swings. Through it all she maintains a nice, light touch. And her children are beautiful. Which puts me in the mood for another mother, Juno, a former New Yorker now plying the environs of Southern California. Juno is a superb story-teller. Almost always her tales do that upbeat thing at the end that brings you to laughter. Or tears.

7:35 a.m. -- Root beer on keyboard. Wife's hair dryer has fixed this before.... Now okay, except letter that comes at the end of the alphabet, which doesn't look at all like omega as in alpha to omega, sticks. Column will have to be written "a to y." Make note: "yen buddha."

7:55 a.m. -- Illinois is awake by now so I go see my buddy Lois Lane, whose name is not Lois Lane but let me tell you she is an ace reporter. She produces some of the best stuff you will ever get to read for free. Then I romp right over to Michigan where I can find Vicki Bennett, one of my bestest pals whom I would describe as brilliant. And so she is. She is the latest winner of "Blogging for Books," and one of the latest losers of a child to college. Another loser-to-college is my buddy Teacher Woman, up there in Washington State. Daughter Abby, whom I suspect is a Mensa candidate, just shipped off to college. Tears in Michigan and Washington. But they got a support group going; they'll be fine.

8:20 a.m. -- Wife calls from bedroom, wants to get up. Best part of my day.

(I am going to keep this up for awhile. I'm having a good time. And, no, I have not forgotten my two Judys, my two Tammys, my Jamie, Busy Mom, J&J's Mom, Tisha, the lady who went to a Cow College...)

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My favorite phrase today is holy shit. Adj., blessed by the Pope. Def.: Descriptive of a two-hour workload with one hour left to deadline. (Possible solution: Root beer on the keyboard.)