I Am Not Making (Most Of) This Up

Seymour 'n friends before he heads to Califorlornia

As a friend years ago once opined to me, "my life is absurd".

Uh huh.  If I didn't understand then...I so do now.

Most of you have by now heard of Seymour, my pet rock.  In the photo here, Seymour and his friends are gathered for an impromptu send off, before Seymour went on his next excursion, to stay with online friends in Califorlornia.

As a far more famous humorist has oft-claimed, I am not making that up.

A colleague at work recently asked me how was it that my pet rock gets to take more vacations than I do.  The answer shocked even me a bit:  (1)  Seymour can travel, round trip, for about $30.  (2)  Seymour is always hosted, so he has no hotel fees, no rental car fees, all meals are provided, all entertainment is provided.  (3) Seymour has no out of pocket expenses whatsoever.  (4) A good thing for a pet rock with no pockets.

I'm thinking I should hate my pet rock.  And I may start, but not for those reasons.

Seymour became my pet rock in April 2000.  He didn't make his first journey until March 2007, and then it was his biggest since his jaunt as ballast on the Santa Maria (at least according to Seymour):  he and his then 'girlfriend' Jane -- a pet earette of corn I swiped from a field in Iowa in September 2005 -- were invited to go to Japan with a writing friend who lived on Shiraishi Island (in the Inland Sea), and ran the Moooo! Bar on the beach there.  So off Seymour and Jane went to Shiraishi Island, the Moooo! Bar, and a year and a half of "now what is she writing to tell me that Seymour's done now?". 

See, while in Japan...Seymour 'knocked up' Jane.

Now I lived on a farm for a spell and I know something about photosynthesis, pollination and crap like that.  But I never heard of no photoSINthesis that allowed a pet rock to knock up an earette of corn.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking...but it's a true story.  My writing friend sent me pictures.

Anyway, to make a long story strange and truncated, Seymour and Jane came back and went to my friend's parents farm in Ohio, where -- so the story goes -- Seymour tried to make it with a table place setting, Jane ran off with 'Head' (a mannequin head she and Seymour met at the Moooo! Bar), and Seymour had to be spirited out of town to a nearby UPS store by a lady dressed in a cow outfit.

I am not making this up; my writing friend might have.  Except the part about the lady in the cow suit.  I have a picture.

So next, Seymour -- now Janeless and muttering all sorts of nasty things about mannequin heads in general -- got to go visit a writing friend and her husband in Texas.  Where my friend decided to 'matchmake' Seymour with Windy...a wind chime.

True story; I have wedding pictures.

Now they say that love is blind, and in the case of a pet rock and a wind chime, I reckon there had to be a whole lotta blindness going on.  But they seemed to get along okay when first back here -- with her hanging from the clock, and Seymour on the entertainment center, making time -- it seemed right and proper for the couple to go off and honeymoon in North Carolina.

Which they did, with another writing friend, her daughter 'Pixie' and her 550 pound tiger, Kellogg.

True story; I have pictures.  Of everyone BUT Kellogg.

While there, Seymour -- I guess -- got a bit friendly with 'Skull' during a Halloween party, and Windy took none to kindly to it, for when they came back, Windy chose not to accompany Seymour on his next trip...to Virginia.

Which in a way was too bad:  Seymour got cultured.  He got to paint.  To read.  He became learned.  He helped cook (and never once set THEIR kitchen on fire).  He played in the snow.  And one of his real highlights was a sightseeing tour of Washington DC.

True story; I have pictures.

Seymour later told me that he rather liked DC from a geo-political standpoint, because the town is full of blockheads.

For once, neither of us could respond to the other with a series of "oh, nuh UH!"s.

Alas, when Seymour came back from Virginia, Windy decided to put an end to their sham marriage, and she went back to Texas.  Which seemed not to bother Seymour a great deal, since -- as he confided to me -- he said that everytime he tried to get close to Windy, "she tinkled".

I guess it didn't help that I laughed at that.  Seymour didn't appreciate what I just did there.

So, single again, Seymour went off to Loveland, CO, to spend time on a mini-ranch with my sister and brother-in-law.  There Seymour got to ride horses, discuss politics with cows, watch a crazy dog play soccer, help my mother wonder where she went wrong with me and help my Sis put together puzzles.  And best of all, no dogs, horses, cows, or neighboring elk and alpacas got knocked up.

True story; I have pictures.

So now, I sent Seymour off to Califorlornia, a state that once had a liberal governor who was so bad, they waited a few terms and re-elected him to finish screwing up what he hadn't already before.

True story; just watch the nightly news when they get around to talking about something other than the Kardashians.

Seymour is being hosted by another blogging friend and her husband.  And sadly, Seymour has not been behaving again.

Last week, I was notified that Seymour is now the 'geology of interest' in a....paternity suit. 

I am not making that up; it remains to be seen if my blogging friend is.  I don't have pictures yet, but expect to shortly.

Yes, apparently Seymour became infatuated with a large decorative sandstone outside of his host's residence.  I am told 'her' name is Julia Sandstone. 

At the moment, I am accepting on faith that that is a true story.

Anyway, if the suit is to be believed, Seymour got randy with and knocked up a sandstone boulder approximately 100 (or more) times his size.  No biology class I ever took prepared me for this.

I doubt a geology class would have, either.

Now I don't know what the state of Califorlornia expects to get out of Seymour, let alone 'Julia' (though allegedly she 'got' out of Seymour all she's ever gonna...*rimshot*).  He has no job.  He has no property.  He has no 401k, Keough, IRA, NRA, INS, BFR or any acronym of value.  And while some think that since Seymour is a mineral, and thus that's where his assets are hidden, I can tell you from personal knowledge and experience of having this particular pet rock for the past thirteen years...that's a lode.

Nyuk.

At any rate...when Seymour gets home, it is obvious to me that he and I will need to have an extended heart to quartz chat about the facts of life, and that Silicon Valley has nothing to do with them implant thingees.

See....Seymour is next tentatively scheduled to visit a blogging friend in Arkansas. 

True story; I am not making that up.

So while I ponder how to address this with a misbehaving pet rock, I called my local Walgreens:

Them:  Walgreens Pharmacy, how can I help you?
Me:  I uh...I need to find some condoms for a pet rock.
Them:  Of course, we h...excuse me?
Me:  I need to find some condoms for a pet rock.
Them:  Have a nice day...*click*

At least I got a 'nice day' out of it.

True story; I am not making that up.

So what, you might ask, am I making up?

Me having a 'heart to quartz' talk with a pet rock about the facts of life.  Can you imagine how that would look?  After all, I have an image to maintain...