This might not look like the famous postcard, Greetings from Asbury Park N.J. – but the Asbury Park Convention Hall is a lovely sight to see and it’s also a grounds-eye view of what Colleen Caruso saw when she had her panic attack in the sky above from a 4-seater Cessna. I promised pictures of Colleen’s stomping ground and I intend to deliver!
This warm weather is making me think of the beach, and worse, of squeezing my massive self into a bathing suit. Just the thought frightens me more than the fear of flying ever can. Being glued to a chair at my desk doesn’t help the posterior spread situation, but it does make me think. I’m past the age that anyone would notice if I had tight abs and buns anyway. But getting a real beach bod would be such a boost for Colleen’s ego. And wouldn’t the beach also be the perfect place for an in-broad-daylight murder? I like the idea and can think of several possibilities.
While I’m on the subject, I don’t know why my mind always drifts to murder. My mother raised me right. I don’t think I have any deep hostilities, hidden or otherwise. I remember my father saying “it’s a great night for a murder” whenever thunder and lightning crashed around our modest suburban home. I think it was a line from one of those old, noir movies and I don’t think he meant for me to make a habit of contemplating murder either. It just kind of happened.
So I sit here on a Sunday night thinking of a beach kill instead of reading, watching TV, or stuffing my face with the tasty treats that are taboo when you’re hoping to slim down to something less than whale-size when you hit the beach next month.
I really do like the beach murder thing.
Greetings from Old Bridge N.J.