Wait For It… a blog by Andy Ross

Those Jeans

Posted on March 24, 2011

Wolf Whistle

Pardon? You're asking if I think you look good in those jeans?

Well, when you were walking in them just now, there was a low boom-boom-ba-doom-boom-ba-doom jungle drums sound that appeared out of nowhere, and a line of business men all turned their heads as you walked by, and their heads morphed into giant wolf heads.

And, the wolf-headed men all made ah0ooooga sounds, and their eyes spun back like slot machine tumblers. And, then all the slot machine eyes landed on cherries, and the wolves' mouths opened up, and long red tongues rolled out to form staircases down to the sidewalk.

Then, ten little hedgehogs wearing bellhop uniforms emerged from the wolf mouths and descended down the tongue staircases, at which point they each tipped their little hedgehog bellboy caps and said, "M'lady!"

At that moment, cracks formed in the sidewalk, and a tiered platform raised up underneath you until you were about thirty feet above street level. And, the platform began to pivot as hundreds of swim-capped bathing beauties dived off in synchronization down into the awaiting pool of wolfmen drool.

That's when I realized that Tom Jones had floated in on a giant scallop shell, and he was singing a cover of Outkast's So Fresh, So Clean to you, but he had changed all the words to include details of your life. And, just as he got to the new part about "thighs like a peach beggin’ for a bitin'," the Navy's precision formation flying team, The Blue Angels, streaked by overhead leaving a skywriting vapor trail that spelled out the words:


So, yeah, I think you look pretty good in those jeans.

Not as good as the jeans that made a rocket ship get stuck in place during take-off, heating up the surface of the Earth until the North Pole turned into a cartoon thermometer with the mercury rising so fast that it popped out the top. And, then the Earth exploded into a billion trillion little Red Hots candies than swirled into a nebula shaped like your butt.

But, that other pair of jeans is in the hamper, so I think you should go with these ones you have on.

Anyway, good luck on your job interview, Honey. I love you.


Boggle Tournament

Posted on March 12, 2010

I’m sorry, but I can’t make it to your baby shower at the end of the month. I’ll be in Las Vegas for the National Boggle Tournament. I know, you’re thinking, “I didn’t know Andy was a champion-level Boggle player.” Well, I’m not. I’m actually more of what you might call a Boggle groupie.

“Groupie.” That’s such a weighted term. I guess I’m more of a Boggle supporter. I go and cheer on all of the players, not just some but all. Because, I’ve seen the hard work and discipline needed to reach that level of Boggle success. And, it is so sexy.

Woman or man, I don’t care. You reach that echelon of National Boggle Tournament, and I just get wet. I can’t tell you how many convention hall janitor’s closets I’ve crammed into with two, three, five Boggle champions at once. Just sucking and fucking until it all becomes a blur, and we can’t even spell two-letter words, let alone three- or five-letter ones.

Technically, I get back the night before your baby shower. But, believe me, I will be in no shape to attend. I’m usually walking sideways for a week after the NBT in Vegas. Last year, I went straight back to work and had to explain all the dice-shaped bruises on my neck.

So, again, congratulations on the upcoming baby! Let’s have coffee sometime, so I can see pictures. I’ll bring ones of my trip. Wink wink.