Home of the "Little Known Blogger"
It’s tough being an old man. I was sitting in Urgent Care waiting to be seen. You know I was not feeling well as I would just about as soon be sitting in a prison cell with Bubba and Roscoe eyeing me lustfully than go to the doctor, any doctor.
My son and his girlfriend were here with their pandilla de muchachos over Memorial Day weekend. I became very ill the Wednesday Continue reading “It’s Tough Being an Old Man”
Señora and I were driving back from Chicago. We were doing something we do not normally do. We were listening to a rock station with a couple DJs who were under the overwhelming delusion that they were funny.
I do not remember what the exact context was, but they were talking about Mother’s Day, which is tomorrow – don’t you forget your mama y’all. They were going on with something about breakfast in bed for the family matriarch.
Señora remarked, “I don’t know about breakfast in bed, but I would take lunch in bed!”
Reckon I have my Sunday lined out for me.
And so it goes.
My 2023 resolution: I vow that I am going to be unstable unstoppable this year.
Probably no one but me has made this connection…. Careful, despite my firewall, virus protection program and aluminum foil hat I can still hear you whispering over my wireless connection, “Yes, it is just you.”
They claim as you get older the connection between your brain’s synapses get a little, we are going to go with freer. The neural network becomes Continue reading “Drunk Santa?”
“Who’s on First?” was perhaps the most famous sketch of Abbott & Costello. It is essentially seven or eight minutes of word play that cracks me up every time I come across it on da’ net. It is the continuation of themes common in the Burlesque era of entertainment, which is where the act of Abbott & Costello got its start.
Mark Twain rose to fame with stories such as The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County which was required reading when I was in school during the Paleolithic period. The gist of the story is that a man feeds buckshot to a frog in order to win a bar bet. Want to know more? Read the story.
I saw myself following Continue reading “Worst Opening Sentence – 2022”
Step 1: Recruit a curvaceous Sweet Young Thing, henceforth known as curvaceous SYT.
Step 2: Dress up my newly recruited curvaceous SYT in a sexy, see-through, next-to-nothing nightgown that does nothing but accentuate her God given charms.
Step 3: Hide her behind the Christmas tree.
Step 4: When Santa comes down the chimney she will step from behind the Christmas tree giving Santa her best come hither smile, all the while shaking her money makers. This causes all the blood in Santa’s head to rush precipitously to his candy cane…stripped or otherwise. Santa faints from lack of oxygen in his brain.
Step 5: While the curvaceous SYT is ascertaining whether Santa needs CPR… or other services, I rapidly scale a previously situated ladder. Jumping in the sled, grabbing the reins, I pilot Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Dunder, Blixem and Rudolph to a secret location strong enough to retain nine angry reindeer. I hear Rudolph has such a mouth…
Step 6: Fence the nine reindeer. I can only imagine what a team of freaking, flying reindeer that can fly around the world in one night must be worth. I am sure Rudolph with that nose so bright will bring twice what the others fetch. And that endless bag of toys, there is no putting a price on such a thing.
Step 7: Hire Elon Musk to clean my 42 bathrooms.
And so it ho, ho, ho goes.
Occasionally Señora and I will find ourselves alone, walking Princess Lily, riding in the car together, sitting around the firepit savoring a fine bottle of 2020 Chambourcin from Stricker Weinkellers, obviously a wonderful time to have a deep, intimate or intellectual conversation about any number of topics. Señora has a propensity to start off these opportunities for erudite palaver with the phrase, “You know what…”.
Last time this happened I replied, “Which one, I know both the Watt boys. I went to school with both of them.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I went to school with both the Watt boys, James and William. Well William they generally call Bubba, but Continue reading “Do you know what…”
“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”
Although my overflowing fountain of creativity – that’s a yoke, son – at times has me wanting to send out a bus load of blog postings on some days, I generally try to keep it to one a day or less. No need to overwhelm my extensive readership with the mundane grumblings of a run-of-the-mill curmudgeon.
However… today I could not resist. I am not feeling well and have spent most of the day in bed. I have a memory of Señora at my bedside telling me she was going to the Valley (local area full of strip malls). An hour or so later I needed a beverage and went down to the kitchen to find this dire warning on the kitchen counter from my loving spouse:
I Think I Have Been Insulted
And so it goes.
yeah I know you did not ask!
Need more exercise to work on that Thanksgiving/Christmas belly? Get a small dog.
I am not sure how many times a day I bend over to scratch The Wee Dog’s head, but it is a significant number. Princess Lily is only 7 kilograms and stands 30 centimeters at the shoulder, the dachshund portion of her DNA being expressed in her body shape. She is slightly larger than your average cat and smaller than some of the larger felines.
It is nearly as good as doing 25 toe touches a day.
1 Lily scratch, 2 Lily scratch… no cheating now, bend from the waist, 3 Lily scratch…
“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”
Last night I was lying in bed half asleep. Señora was next to me watching the tail end of a TV show about Gilda Radner. When the show was over she turned off the TV, and she leaned over to give me a good night kiss and hug. During the hug I caressed her back and arms a bit, then I decided I needed to do the same to her hip and leg. When I arrived there I had the thought, “she sure needs to shave her legs!” That is when I realized The Wee Dog had weaseled her way in between the two of us.
And so it went with our little ménage à chienne.