At a recent blogger meetup here in Augsburg, I...well, blog meetup is a rather grandiose name for a date.  Well, it wasn’t exactly a date either.  I mean, for all I know, Augie isn’t even really a person.  Rube certainly isn’t a person.  He’s more of a personality disorder.  Hi, my name’s Eric.  Rube is also my name, but Eric’s more my name than Rube is.  At least more often.  More people call me Rube than Eric, but important people, my Mom for instance, calls me Eric.  Glad we could get that straight.

Anyways, there was this blog meetup, or date, or whatever.  Did you know that some unlikely words differentiate American English from British English, other than the obvious things like “lift” instead of “elevator”, or names like “Ian” (my nephew’s name is Ian, so shove it)?  Americans are supposed to say, “Anyway” at the beginning of a sentence, whereas Britons say “Anyways”.  Likewise, Americans are expected to say “Backward”, whereas Teabags say “Backwards”.  I’m pretty sure my family says “Backwards”, but since I’ve been tooling around the communist outland now for about 7 years, I can’t even remember what my family looks like, much less what kind of backwoods-waterhead colloquialisms they let fall out of their toothless, moonshine-chuggin’ pieholes.

Ok, let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes, the 461st Diurnal Augsburg Blogfest. I used to live next to these two brothers, who were perhaps the most gifted natural entertainers I’ve ever met.  Some people just have a way of amusing people; they’re the kind of people who just can’t stand it when there’s no conversation going on, and take matters into their own hands, either by jumping in the middle of the room and putting a lampshade on their heads, or starting a conversation with one person that ends up as a lunatic monologue that everybody gathers round to watch.

But this is really going nowhere.  One time, ages ago, I dropped acid and couldn’t stop playing in the summer rain.  It was fucking fascinating.