Waiting for Thunder

i'm sitting here, luxuriating in my after work ritual of checking email, facebook, and myspace; browsing my friends' blogs, seeing what online news i can tolerate sitting still long enough to read (how has my attention span deteriorated so?).

i'm sitting here, slightly sticky from the thunderstorm that's been coming on all day, sweaty beer on the table, listening to jesse play tiger woods' pga golf game on X-Box .

it's slightly adorable.

i can hear the roar of the pga crowd, the digitally enhanced whubahmp whubahmp of tiger's heart beat as he pauses before a putt, -- and jesse is talking back to the tv screen, groaning with the crowd, raising a single fist to the air as he sinks his shots

this is a fabulous course - he says, not taking his eyes from the rolling hills of the recreated st andrews, the treacherous bunkers that snap and grab for his ball . . .

ooh! he's caught me looking, now he keeps glancing over at me, the yuengling raised to his lips.

whatcha doin, hon?

nothing . . . writing . . .a post

oh, nice.

we both look back and catch each other's eyes, holding them longer this time, two smiles.

i am slightly sticky, surrounded by corn still in its husks that waits for the grill, a small watermelon, my half-drunk tasty beverage, my sweety on the couch, kicking tiger's ass on the green.