Avast ye! Tie that Scurvy Insurance Agent From the Yard Arm!

Hope everyone rode out the weather on Saturday in good shape.  Here at the compound, we received just enough rain to increase the largish puddle next to us to such a size that it will now accommodate small sailing craft.  In fact, I was out on the water in my homemade sailboat yesterday.  The weather was delightful and the boat, named “Raw-Bone’s Folly”, handled beautifully.  My miniature pinscher/Chihuahua mix (I refer to her as a chin-pin), Molly, sat up in the bow barking incessantly at…well, who knows what the hell she was barking at…that’s a chin-pin trait you know.  Rather annoying, actually. 

As Molly and I glided across and around the puddle, the seed of an idea came to me that soon took hold…one that I’m certain will bloom into a most successful event.  I wanted to head back into shore to discuss my idea with the wife, but in a remarkably rare occurrence of no wind in Northwest Oklahoma, Molly and I suddenly found ourselves dead-in-the-water (Navy term) in the middle of the puddle. 

My idea initially was to host a sailing regatta here at the compound.  I planned to invite my friends Biff, Atticus, Lance, Jackson, Antoinette, Jacqueline, Griffith, and Sebastian (assuming he’s back from the polo matches in Virginia).  I planned to serve expensive chardonnay (not too oaky) and Beluga caviar (stupid expensive) on thin slices of imported French bread (flown in direct from Paris to West Woodward), after which we would all board our waiting sailboats and take to the high seas in a race that would undoubtedly be sponsored by the likes of Rolex. 

After the winds came back up (took maybe 30 seconds), I headed into shore and explained this to the wife. She pointed out:  1) I don’t have any friends with those names; 2) last she checked, United Supermarket doesn’t carry catfish caviar, let alone Beluga; 3) if anyone is going to be served expensive chardonnay, it had damn well better be her; and, 4) I would have trouble getting the fake Rolex maker, Fauxlex, to sponsor my regatta, let alone the real deal. She can be such a dream crusher!

Undeterred by the wife’s response and unwavering in my enthusiasm for some sort of waterborne sporting activity, I tweaked my regatta plans to fit more of a rural Oklahoma model.  I’ve invited people that I actually technically know.  So far, Jake the Snake (local Roto-Rooter technician), Terry Two-Fingers (makes a living “charming” rattlesnakes over near Freedom), Crisco Carl (has really unruly eyebrows that he tames with a dab of Crisco), K-Y Kelly (the infamous one-eyed proctologist) and, Harry the Hoarder (world record holder for the biggest collection of men’s magazines from 1940-1974 – very popular stop on the annual Boy Scouts’ Paper Recycling Drive) have agreed to participate. 

I’ll serve bologna with mustard and onion on Wonder Bread, which participants can wash down with tepid cans of Rat City Beer imported from Kansas (it’s cheaper there, you know). 

As for a sponsor, I’ve not had much luck.  I tried to get a well-established insurance agency in Woodward (upon the advice of our disbarred and disgraced CCB corporate counsel, said insurance agency shall remain nameless) as a sponsor.  The president of the company (who prefers that people refer to him as El Jefe Supremo) told me that not only did he NOT wish his company to be associated with “so banal a display of beer-sotted peasantry,” but that if I insisted in pursuing his esteemed company’s sponsorship he would file suit in Grant County where “the judiciary is insurance friendly.”

I thought we needed some media attention so I pitched the idea to the Woodward News. They claim their reporters will be busy that weekend (and, every weekend thereafter) covering the underwater basket weaving competition at the Ft. Supply municipal pool (located right next to the Ft. Supply municipal water treatment plant - hmmmmm).  I even offered an exclusive interview with the regatta’s founder (aka, me).  Nothing, I got nothing. To steal a quote from the late, great Rodney Dangerfield…my idea gets no respect!

Still, despite the naysayers, I remain undeterred in my desire to bring a classy event such as a largish puddle regatta to Northwest Oklahoma.  In a remarkably magnanimous move on my part (if I do say so myself), I made an additional tweak to my idea by changing it from a regatta (Terry Two-Fingers refuses to wear anything with Ralph Lauren’s name on it) to something a bit more…ummm, bucolic. 

So now, my brilliant plan for a sailing regatta has morphed into something even more brilliant…it will be an event more akin to a Mad Max movie (with Admiral Lord Nelson playing the part of Max) wherein we’ll pit our homemade sailboats against one another in a floating demolition derby.  Cool, huh?  Last boat floating wins.  Since the wife has hidden my credit and ATM cards, I’m reduced to passing off one of my old bowling trophies (which I’ll top with a tiny sailor’s hat) and a Fauxlex watch to the winner. 

I believe there’s room on the largish puddle for one more entry, so if you’re a seaworthy type who can sail and ram at the same time, let me know! 

If you want to come out to cheer on your favorite sailor feel free to do so.  Please bring your own stale bologna sandwiches and cheap, skunky beer.

Oh, and…Ahoy!