I've got this round

I get email from people who read this blog, sometimes more than others, depends on all sorts of things, vampires, content, dead animals, taking pot shots at republicans, doing pot shots with democrats, that sort of thing. I get emails.

Then I got one this weekend, informing me of a game these college boys have been playing. Seems four guys, all over the age of 21, they promise, have rented a small house in their quaint little college town and they are all working terribly boring jobs for the summer and spending nights drinking and desperately trying to pick up townies, whom they describe as a cross between some sort of zoo animal and a super model, depending on their level of intoxication.

So they all seem to get off work between 5 and 7 PM every evening, they eat crappy food and at some point in the early hours of their night, and they actually said that they do this every evening according to a series of emails, they gather in the living room. One guy sets out some shot glasses and fills them with whatever terrible alcohol is available and another opens a laptop, dials up my blog and everyone sits back. Then they wait. One person begins to read the newest post aloud and everyone waits.

Sometimes they just like the story, that's what they said. Sometimes they hate it. A lecture delivered with no humor. Mostly they wait. Sooner or later, they tell me, a mention of a Tranny will be made and the shots will be downed. It is their very own summer drinking game.

So I read these emails in disbelief. First, I had no idea that I was writing blog posts at all. Then to find out that some actually reference an underworld populated by the ever mysterious tranny, and you can just imagine my shock. Then it dawned on me that these poor college boys, with little to do in their quaint little college town, and almost daily being forced to do a shot when ever the term tranny is mentioned in my blog, well, their lives must be some sort of cheap alcoholic hell.

That said, it was just this afternoon that my car started to give me trouble as I made my way up a nearby incline. I pulled it into the local garage and the mechanic could hear me as I drove in. He yelled over the sound of my engine, "sounds like you have some tranny troubles."

"Oh?" I asked. "Tranny troubles?"

"Yep, that tranny could go any time."

That's when I noticed the dress. Seems the mechanic at my local garage was wearing a nice summer light weight jumper. That's right, my tranny mechanic was indeed, a Tranny...mechanic.

Drink up fellas.