Five years ago, in a dark bar in Albany, Georgia, one of the most beautiful, talented news anchors in the world uttered those four words to me.
I was a dumpy, frizzy-haired newspaper reporter and if I hadn't been three sheets to the wind, then sitting next to the six-foot tall blond goddess might have been intimidating. Ah but for the glories of gin and tonic I was completely unselfconscious. It also didn't hurt that she'd had a crap day and was matching me drink for drink.
I can recall really bad kareoke music blaring in the bar and not really feeling up to sharing my rendition of "I Will Survive" so we moved to more secluded end of the bar and began playing one of those electronic poker machine type games. This particular variety required you to select the difference in two very similar images. In this case, the photos were of naked women in compromising poses. The more I drank the harder it became to tell if nipples were pointing different directions.
Well, the night wore on and we'd been playing for hours. Not only had we been engaged in marathon gaming, but TV girl was also smoking my shit. Finally, after 200 rounds of kicking my ass, she turned to me and offered some invaluable advice. Pointing to the naked woman's lady bits, TV girl began to explain to me why she was so good at the game.
"Don't neglect the beaver," she said. Then pointed out that the difference in the photos was little more than the 'hair cut' the models were sporting. "See!" she said. "You can't win if you neglect the beaver! Don't neglect the beaver!"
Words to live by, people.
I hadn't thought about that night in years. So much has changed since that experience in a sketchy Georgia bar. Not only am I married and out of the newspaper business, but I also find it physically impossible to go out drinking during on a week night.
Yet today something happened that made me recall that night with remarkable clarity. You see, the husband and I have stumbled onto a bit of a mystery and I need your help figuring it out.
Here's the deal Internet, I beseech you to tell me how and why there is a giant, dead beaver in the middle of the major road that cuts through the center of town.
Seriously.
There is a dead beaver lying close to the center line of the westbound lane of Highway 518 just before the road intersects with Highway 288 in Pearland, Texas. We discovered this while running to the store after work. And for the last three hours, the Husband and I have been trying to figure this shit out. Yet nothing makes sense!
Did the beaver walk several miles from an area lake and got hit by a car? Was he a stowaway on some fisherman's truck and fell to his death? Did he drop from the heavens?
Please, help us solve this roadkill Rubik's cube. I have to know who neglected the Beaver.
I was a dumpy, frizzy-haired newspaper reporter and if I hadn't been three sheets to the wind, then sitting next to the six-foot tall blond goddess might have been intimidating. Ah but for the glories of gin and tonic I was completely unselfconscious. It also didn't hurt that she'd had a crap day and was matching me drink for drink.
I can recall really bad kareoke music blaring in the bar and not really feeling up to sharing my rendition of "I Will Survive" so we moved to more secluded end of the bar and began playing one of those electronic poker machine type games. This particular variety required you to select the difference in two very similar images. In this case, the photos were of naked women in compromising poses. The more I drank the harder it became to tell if nipples were pointing different directions.
Well, the night wore on and we'd been playing for hours. Not only had we been engaged in marathon gaming, but TV girl was also smoking my shit. Finally, after 200 rounds of kicking my ass, she turned to me and offered some invaluable advice. Pointing to the naked woman's lady bits, TV girl began to explain to me why she was so good at the game.
"Don't neglect the beaver," she said. Then pointed out that the difference in the photos was little more than the 'hair cut' the models were sporting. "See!" she said. "You can't win if you neglect the beaver! Don't neglect the beaver!"
Words to live by, people.
I hadn't thought about that night in years. So much has changed since that experience in a sketchy Georgia bar. Not only am I married and out of the newspaper business, but I also find it physically impossible to go out drinking during on a week night.
Yet today something happened that made me recall that night with remarkable clarity. You see, the husband and I have stumbled onto a bit of a mystery and I need your help figuring it out.
Here's the deal Internet, I beseech you to tell me how and why there is a giant, dead beaver in the middle of the major road that cuts through the center of town.
Seriously.
There is a dead beaver lying close to the center line of the westbound lane of Highway 518 just before the road intersects with Highway 288 in Pearland, Texas. We discovered this while running to the store after work. And for the last three hours, the Husband and I have been trying to figure this shit out. Yet nothing makes sense!
Did the beaver walk several miles from an area lake and got hit by a car? Was he a stowaway on some fisherman's truck and fell to his death? Did he drop from the heavens?
Please, help us solve this roadkill Rubik's cube. I have to know who neglected the Beaver.
3 comments:
One theory: I have a friend who is a trucker. He said there would be miles of clean road and then areas where there was road kill. The problem was the location, nothing was where it SHOULD be. His conclusion was that there was a larger animal (bigfoot to be exact) that moved its food around and dropped it whereever he was when finished. Probably the ramblings of a trucker on too much caffine and no sleep, but ya never know! H.
Beavers can live in a small amt of water. possible he lived near by or was moving to another area because it is Spring and he was looking for some 'beaver'.
A Second Theory- The economy: His dam was in foreclosure. He lost his job down at the mill. He spent the last of his cash on a few glorious hours with hookers and blow. What else was there to do but step out into the street and end it all? So, actually, it's the government who neglected the beaver.
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