Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Ed

Today at my gym, I saw a sign-up sheet for massages. The person doing the massages was named Ed Riley. Now Ed may be a nice man and he’s probably a very good masseur, but no one named Ed is touching me. Eduardo maybe; Edward with the “w” pronounced as a “v” probably; but plain old everyday Ed? No way Jose. Guys named Ed handle my plumbing or sell me tires; they don’t kneed my deep tissue. His last name is Riley. Ed Riley is the guy I bowl with or go to his trailer to watch NASCAR—no one named Ed Riley has supple hands.