Over the weekend I decided to set aside a day to go visit my friend K up in Ocala. Ocala is about an hour, hour and a half away from Sanford (depending on how fast you drive). I take the back roads instead of the interstate and the weather was perfect so it was a pleasant drive up there. When I picked up K I did not really have any plans. I thought we might visit some thrift stores, but everything seems to close around 2 pm in Ocala. So we just drove around for a while shooting the shit and seeing the sights.
A few things I spotted from the fine citizens in Ocala:
A mighty truck-top air spoiler.
Inside a pet shop. I wonder if it was a customer or the employee with the 8th grade education who spotted that and corrected it.
I was walking by this parrot in the petstore, when it reached out with a claw and grabbed my shirt. It then yanked me over and started gnawing on my sleeve. I do not think I have ever seen such an aggressive parrot.
*skwak* That bird had attitude.
Great. Now tonight I have to check under my bed for a scary policeman. And I can never leave a bare foot sticking out form under the covers because the policeman might reach out in the middle of the night and grab it.
Some guy playing a fiddle outside of a burger king. I was too far away to hear what he was playing. He was right at a stop light so I guess he was playing for money. Better than a WILL WORK FOR FOOD sigh I suppose.
We stopped at some sort of organic health food place for lunch. One of the things there that amused me was a giant stainless steel juice they had that could juice just about anything. In the mood to try something exotic, I ordered a juice that was made out of carrots, spinach, apples, cucumbers, and some other greens. They shoved all these things into the juicer and I was rewarded with a 12-ounce cup of green slime. When I sipped it it was a chlorophyll explosion in my mouth. The only description I can give is that it tasted like someone had mowed their lawn in my mouth. I drank about half.
I also got a bottle of 'genseng ginger ale'. I was impressed with it. K has the cutest smile.
REG'JOM'OS!
Later that day for dinner I decided to try some more sushi. This was my expression after shoving 'BBQ eel' in my mouth. I have tried sushi many times. It does not get better each time. I just can't eat sushi.
Me and K. Aren't we cuuuute.
I spent Sunday just puttering around my house. I finally put up a light that Alan had found in someone's trash. I think it's pretty neat. Like it used to go in a church or something.
And that was my Saturday and Sunday. I am going to have to make a post later about the 'alaskan pirites and his salty seamen' show that I saw on Friday night. Alas. No photo's.
2026 Update
Dialing the machine to a weekend in Ocala where the parrot is the bouncer and the green juice tastes like lawn.
Ah, 2007. A world where a man could spend a whole Saturday driving back roads to Ocala with no GPS, no Yelp, and no plan, and call it a pleasant day. I spot several artifacts in this fossil: thrift stores that closed at 2 p.m. because the town apparently respected closing time; a green juice that tasted like a mowed lawn, ordered on a whim at an organic health food place instead of through a phone app with thirty options and a rewards program; and a complete absence of photos because blogging was still a text-based confession booth. Now, in 2026, every one of Ed's decisions would be documented, geotagged, and turned into content: the aggressive parrot would have a TikTok, the fiddle player would have a QR code for tips, and the BBQ eel would be filmed for a reaction video. The only thing that hasn't changed? Sushi still tastes like regret to Ed. Some things are eternal.
“2007 Ed, after that parrot yanked you by the shirt and gnawed on your sleeve, why did you not immediately leave the pet shop? And did you actually check under the bed for the scary policeman, or did you just lie there sweating all night?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, first off, that parrot was a jerk, but I paid to be in that store, dammit, and I wasn't about to let some feathered punk chase me out. Plus, I was still gawking at the truck spoiler display and the whole '8th grade education' situation, so I figured I'd finish my important research before retreating. And yes, I absolutely checked under the bed. Swept the whole floor with a flashlight like a man on a mission, found a dust bunny and an old sock, no cop. But that didn't help, because then I lay there staring at the dark crack under the dresser, convinced he was hiding behind the dust ruffle, waiting for my bare foot. I kept one leg tucked up like a flamingo all night. So, no, I didn't just sweat it out—I sweated it out with tactical foot positioning. Take that, imaginary policeman.
