Just up the street from us is a community of the rich and not-so-famous. They afford me hours of enjoyment in the summer as many of them jog past the front of my home all tan and thin. Some cruise past in their summer cars, usually Porsches or convertible Jaguars. There’s an endless supply of work trucks throughout the week passing by on their way up the road to what I’ll affectionately call, Shooterville. Caterers, gardeners, martinizers, and even mobile tailors head up that way regularly. Oh and don’t forget the party rental supply trucks, thousands of them, okay 2 or 3 of them. But keep in mind, that’s 2 or 3 every weekend.
The entertainment factor hit an all time high yesterday though when I overheard the conversation of two young shooters from Shooterville as they passed by my pier on their bikes.
The rain had stopped, the clouds had parted and I decided to enjoy reading my book out in the sun for a bit. As I lay on my stomach on the pier soaking in the finer points of becoming a virtuous woman, I heard a young man’s voice as it drew continuously nearer to me.
“No way dude, you’ve got to be kidding me! What did you doooooo?”
The young girl he was riding next to, after realizing what he thought, said, “Nooooooo, it’s a gooood thing to be put on the Dean’s List!”
Ah, now that’s entertainment!