Curio, Sir? And Curio, Sir?
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Posted:Nov 3, 2008 6:54 pm
Last Updated:Dec 28, 2011 7:40 pm
8452 Views
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Once and for all and finally retreating from the terminous tip of limb I precariously tend to inhabit,
Politics is an old turd, dusted off with a sable brush and passed around to the amazement of all who somehow seem to forget that it's the same shit they saw four years ago.
Now where the hell has all the tobacco and coffee got to?
That's some shit, right there!!
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14
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The Penis Preposition Postulate
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Posted:Nov 3, 2008 5:44 pm
Last Updated:Sep 5, 2009 6:21 pm
7851 Views
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Wherein the universe demonstrates that the before, the during and the after shall not always proceed in that fashion. And the post-visit phone call of the ex shall end slightly after the call from the elusively persued which is interrupted by the text from the current and followed by the text from the ex.
For time is somehow circular in the vas deferentials of the mind, and a four-way remains impossible to prove-ide.
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10
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Reset Buton? Where? Oh!!! Why didn't you say something?
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Posted:Oct 22, 2008 3:43 pm
Last Updated:Nov 3, 2008 4:12 pm
10336 Views
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So that's what that button on the back of the router does?
DUH
And you have to do what then???
Well, anyway, back on the net finally.
FINALLY
For this session at least.....I'll keep my fingers crossed for future sessions. But now I know which button to push...
Catching up! Catching up! Lemme see....
Got my first haircut in four years. The ponytail is no more. Donated 18" of primo-macho hair to Locks of Love. That was the plan. Plan completed and shower drain flowing smoothly again.
Phewwww!!!
Fired up the crock pot for the first time in ten years. Produced something really vile after a day of cooking....parsnips -- BAD! And will make everything cooked with them taste with melted plastic.
Eating really healthy, trying to go as basic as possible with everything. Except parsnips.
Trying to get enough sleep every night.
Reading a lot of really good books.
Watching a lot of Doctor Who and Spooks.
Spent a lot of money on freaking gasoline for a while.
Just got a new pair of Vasque boots....no longer made in Italy. China? Bugger All!
Been missing you all and the internet!!
Sex is still good, right??
Gonna try and catch up now. Please point me to any goodies I might have missed, so I can give them extra attention....if you know what I mean.
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30
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(Page:)
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Martha Threwitt
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Posted:Aug 11, 2008 8:15 pm
Last Updated:Jan 14, 2012 7:10 am
9542 Views
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I got an IKEA catalog in the mail today. Apparently my mailbox is redecorating because I didn't send for it. But I was intrigued after all I've heard from people who just love it so very, very much.
I do love Scandinavian design furniture, especially mid-twentieth century design. Something about clean lines made from golden teak forming my surroundings just seems right- simple, harmonious and warm.
By the time I got home I was really looking forward to seeing what was up with the whole IKEA phenomenon. I sat down, opened the catalog, took a gander and started to fidget.
Something about it just didn't work for me. Although it did seem very functional: the lines were too harsh and all the proportions seemed forced by economy of material. The touch of the machine completely overpowered any human touch. A machine completely void of any ghost.
Picture after picture of akward groupings forced together and failing to merge into the background as furnishings should to allow the human inhabitants to assume their rightful place in the room, as its most important features.
Strange attempts at organic forms: akward and slightly alien looking lamps, seating formed from ungraceful or over-exaggerated curves and tables designed to stand apart from the rest of the furniture but with nothing in their design of any interest.
Awful colors! Dreadful colors! Unsettling colors!
Colors from a mad scientist's test tubes rather than nature. A most unnaturally blended and smeared palette.
Horrible patterns! Terrible patterns! Disturbing patterns!
Patterns from a mad psychologists thesis rather than the natural order of the universe. No symmetry. Broken rhythms. Misplaced continuity. Irregular intersections. Patterns like disappointing jigsaw puzzles with missing pieces.
I did like the shelving and storage solutions, very efficient and logical. But the rest of it made me fidget. And I do mean fidget most uncomfortably.
I remember seeing a complete dining room suite that was up for auction at The Great Gatsby's, table, chairs, sideboard, china hutch, serving cart and even a radiator cover. It was so very, very Art Noveau: made from oak with a fineness of grain only found in lumber from primordial forests and a burnished a golden color only achievable from decades of respectful polishing. Harmonious, graceful, poetic and sublime, tiny leaves and flowers were subtly carved on every surface that caught your immediate attention,and closer inspection revealed spiderwebs carved into every surface where real spiders might weave real webs. It was as if the artisans understood how their furniture interacted with the natural world as well as how the natural world would interact with their furniture.
I have never seen its equal since. It belonged in a museum, but I hope it is being used and loved every day by people who understand how special it is.
I know I'm comparing apples and oranges here. But the contrast between the way Art Noveau was romanticly unsettling and the way IKEA is almost dehumanizingly unsettling makes me wonder about modern life.
Will we have things formed from dreams or things formed from industry? Man vs. Machine, with the winner deciding whether we live lives of mythical design or lives composed of only three dimensions.
I have a thing, a desk designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, a prototype made by Drexel out of scrap lumber. It was never included in his Taliesin furniture line. It might be the only one of its kind. It is the most beautiful and magical thing I own. It is covered in dust and junk mail.
I am attempting to relearn the grace of living with a deeper and broader sense of appreciation.
And a dirty maid might help.
Any thoughts on IKEA? My version of hell is furnished in IKEA with legions of sinners wailing and gnashing their teeth as they try to assemble that stuff.
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16
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Counter Attack
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Posted:Aug 3, 2008 7:55 pm
Last Updated:Jan 5, 2012 2:08 pm
8091 Views
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Years ago I bought a coffee maker and a toaster duo made by the same Eurasian company. I use the coffee maker every day; but since I hate toast ( unless it's French ), I've never used the toaster. But since the price of regular bread has risen to equal the price of fancy, frou-frou, frozen bread, I've switched to the swanky, frozen stuff. Especially since the staying power of the counter top bread has started to creap me out. Two weeks past the date and still moist, but without a touch of fuzzy-blue surprise, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
What's in this stuff? McDonalds french fries?
So I had to knock the toaster against the counter a few times as a friendly warning to any inhabitants to either vacate or incinerate. They took the hint, but I did a dry run to just in case. The homeland of generations up in flames.
Time to unwrap the frozen loaf of bread, and every slice is frozen solid to its neighbor, an entire loaf of solidarity. I was expecting the traditional individually wrapped slices.
So I grab a knife. My flatware is a by Dansk, the made in France Dansk from the 70's, not the made in Japan Dansk of today. A pattern called, Thistle. It was designed by Bjorgen von Bjorgenbergen, or somebody like that. I'm pretty sure he called it Thistle because the soup spoons have really sharp edges that tear up the corners of your mout when you eat. The triple-tined forks are great for punctuating dinnertime arguments, maybe that was the reason.
And I try to seperate a slice. And I try to pry off a slice. And I try to hack off a slice. And I beat the frozen loaf against the counter until it breaks in half. Progress.
So now I've got the knife wedged in, and I'm wailing away on it with a large ladel. And I bust off a slice. Repeat. Another slice.
Time for the toaster.
Standard lever on the side with a large red button above it that glows when the lever is depressed, self destruct? Too tempting, not gonna risk it. Three buttons on the front with LEDs and cryptic symbols. The top symbol looks like a loaf of French bread cut in half. This must be the Bun Toasting Setting. The setting that results in the inside of the bun being dry as dust while the exterior is somehow soggy. Somehow, the toaster creates an osmotic field that allows the moisture from the middle of the bun to penetrate the crust barrier, condense and dissolve the crust. Ingenious! The middle symbol shows a snowflake beside a slice of bread. I'm guessing this is for thawing and not freezing bread. The bottom symbol shows two slices of bread arranged sandwiche fashion. The toaster came with two sandwiche presses that are supposed to hold the filling in place while heating and toasting. So if the urge for a Montecristo should strike in the middle of the night, I'm set. Just fix it up, place it in the press, place the press in the toaster, drop the lever, hit the button and enjoy a small, intense, yet savory fire.
Below all of this is a dial with a few numbers around it and the universal symbol for toast ( a slice of bread with three wavy lines running across it ) between the 2 and the 3. Looks like a reasonable setting to try.
I pop a slice in each slot, hit the lever, carrrrefullly avoid the tempting red glow of the self-destruct button and hit the snowflake slice button. Wait. Ignore the funny smell. Wait. Re-bag the loaf halves. Wait. Peer down the slots until my eyeballs dry out. Wait. Put the bread back in the freezer. DING! Nearly jump out of my skin and slam the freezer door shut.
I don't smell toast.
It don't look golden.
I guess it's done.
I slather one side with almond butter.
I slather the other side with fig preserves.
It absorbs them both.
I suspect that symbol was actually for freeze drying bread. My suspicion is confirmed.
I've tried every combination of dial setting and button without success. Either the bread is untoastable or the toaster is untoastly.
Every button except one, that is.
Wish me luck!
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18
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sift
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Posted:Jul 29, 2008 4:53 pm
Last Updated:Aug 11, 2008 8:27 pm
8365 Views
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Given the amount of pig poo one has to sift thru to find a pearl these days, I was very pleased when I read the following quote:
The Enlightenment, for all of its liberating qualities--especially in empowerment of individuals with the ability to use reason as a source of influence and power--has also had a dark side that thoughtful people worried about from its beginning. Abstract thought, when organized into clever, self-contained, logical formulations, can sometimes have its own quasi-hypnotic effect and so completely capture the human mind as to shut out the leavening influences of everyday experience. Time and again, passionate believers in tightly organized philosophies and ideologies have closed their minds to the cries of human suffering that they inflict on others who have not yet pledged their allegiance and surrendered their minds to the same ideology.
Eggfuckingzaktly! There's the egg that hatched the rooster.
That's from Al Gore's "The Assault On Reason". Thanks for the internet, btw. I actually like Al Gore very much. However he and Bill were paying the piper behind closed doors, at least he always played his role in public in a repectably intelligent manner.
Here's my latest Rosetta Stone:
Move the heart,
Switch the pace,
Look for what
Seems out of place.
It's from Peter Murphy's 1989 album, DEEP, and a song called Cuts You Up. One of my all time favorite albums. Marlene Dietrich's Favourite Poem still brings tears to my eyes.
Anyway, the quote above has become my new method of preserving my own sanity while viewing the world's insanity. Something I have learned from interacting with the public for so long is that most people tend to think the world is as it appears to them. A good person will view the world as good and people who do bad things as good people who made a mistake. A bad person will view the world as bad and good people as naive and easy prey. Since I like tothink of myself as a good person, I tend to view the world as a good place full of good people doing their best to make it a better place. But this viewpoint of mine has been sorely tested of late, and I'm no longer able to reconcile the exterior world with my internal construct. The solution has been for me to "move my heart" to a different frame of reference which allows for a different viewpoint.
I have also had to "switch the pace" in order to gain some understanding. Removing the relentless drumming pace of the outer world from my inner pace has allowed for greater reflection. This polyphonic, paycheck-to-paycheck world allows almost no time for anything other than conditioned reactions. Turning off the radio and television and removing the caustic influences of advertising and limiting my interactions with the Shiny Happy of the Corn People has helped greatly in calming internal turmoils caused solely by external, impersonal influences ( No, I do not consider Shiny Happy of the Corn as People. They have allowed themselves to be reduced to mere constructs perfectly in tune with the world that has been created for them. See previous post's quote from Dr. Fromm. )
Having accomplished the prior two goals, it then became possible for me to "look for what seems out of place". Sincere scrutiny without cynicism is my current goal for myself in my quest towards maturity. When I find something that seems out of place in my life, I take a long, hard look at it.
I ask the eternal Why.
If the answers to that question do not fit with my goals for personal development, then I remove or avoid the influences of the anomoly and move on.
To read something written by someone so deeply entrenched in the establishment- to me, Al Gore is the thinking man's thinking man for those who are primarily led by reason rather than reaction- that so closely resonates with my current viewpoint....well, now I feel a bit out of place.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. Although it's a bit of an alarm clock in an ice chest as far as wake-up calls go, it does contain many passages that I thoroughly enjoyed traversing.
My only advice for the upcoming political pagentry is to keep in mind that Peter Murphy probably knows more about entertaining a crowd than either candidate ever will.
Now will someone please, please, please fuck me silly again!!!!
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13
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Lay the Square Peg Roundelay
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Posted:Jul 15, 2008 9:41 pm
Last Updated:Jul 30, 2008 6:04 pm
8371 Views
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From philosopher-psychiatrist, Dr. Erich Fromm:
Our contemporary Western society, in spite of its material, intellectual and political progress, is increasingly less conducive to mental health, and tends to undermine the inner security, happiness, reason and the capacity for love in the individual; it tends to turn him into an automatron who pays for his human failure with increasing mental sickness, and with despair hidden under a frantic drive work and so-called pleasure.
Our "increasing mental sickness" may find expression in neurotic symptoms. These syptoms are conspicuous and extremely distressing. Symptoms such as these are not our enemy, but our friend; where there are symptoms there is conflict, and conflict always indicates that the forces of life which strive for integration and happiness are still fighting.
"The really hopeless victims of mental illness are to be found among those who appear to be the most normal. They are normal not in what may be called the absolute sense of the word; they are normal only in relation to a profoundly abnormal society."
Machiavelli told us that the world is not as it should be, but wasting one's time dreaming of how it should be rather than living in it as it is will only bring about one's own downfall.
Buddhist teachings say that we should be grateful to those most ensnared in their delusions of the world, because they are the ones keeping the wheel of existance spinning.
Without them, this reality of ours would cease to exist.
Game over.
My shrink told me, "You're fine. You just figured out that life's a bitch and then you die."
You get what you pay for....and since he charged by the hour....maybe I got a bargain there.
I was pretty excited the other day at the book store. I saw a copy of "Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand" by Pabongka Rinpoche. It's a wonderous and ponderous book that I thought had disappeared: understandable, given that it takes me about a year to get thru a chapter.
If you think you are crazy now, try wrapping your Western mind around the lessons of Tibetan Buddhaism presented in that book.
And the title always makes me smirk. Especially since I can't get no satisfaction...
Anyway...either way....you're normal.
btw--I've given up on trying to load pictures on my posts. Can standard males ( the lowest of the low ) still load pics.?
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19
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Gilligan Redux
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Posted:Jul 12, 2008 5:01 pm
Last Updated:Jul 29, 2008 5:32 pm
7653 Views
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I've never really been much of a history buff. But I have always loved archaeology. Something about the difference between the truth and facts, I guess. Like that scene in one Indiana Jones movie where he is talking to his students, and he tells them, "If you are looking for truth, then you are in the wrong classroom. You want Philosophy down the hall. What archaeology is concerned with is the discovery and study of facts." History and facts, history and truth....the world may never know.
So my interest in history has to mesh with my interest in archaeology, which has to mesh with my interest in architecture. And the study of architecture has a very enigmatic beginning in ancient Egypt. They were the first to leave a record of their building efforts in the durable medium of stone. And that record can be traced from there to Greece, then to Rome and then to your local bank down the road from ya.
And since architecture thru the Western tradition is reflective of the religion of the area it is situated in, I've always been very interested in classical religions and mythologies. I love the grandeur of mankind's expression of the fervor of it's beliefs manifested in the buildings it creates for the practice of those beliefs. The sacrifices and expenditures of wealth, material and human efforts is simply staggering when one glimpses beyond the walls and into the foundations. Although these were truly labors of love, their construction has always cost us dearly.
But with an ordered mind (religion) and an ordered body (the temple) humanity has flourished and society has advanced.
I think my main interest has always been to look to the core of things, "the genesis". I have always sought fundamentals, and always become disheartened at some point along the line and then seek other means of reaching the kernel for understanding man's relation to society, life and ultimately himself ( or herself ).
Recently, I've turned my attention from the ages of stone to the ages of clay. Ancient Sumer is where I tread now on my quest for understanding this life I have been given.
I found something I like very much there in the tale of Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh was an king. He lived a rich life, but a life he found unsatisfying. His chief concern was his own mortality, and try as he might his pursuits of earthly pleasures couldn't assuage his thoughts on the unfairness of mortality. Especially since he was an offspring of the great god Shamash on his father's side, and therefor 2/3's divine ( somehow ), this mortality troubled him even more since he was so very close to the immortality of full divinity.
He went to great Shamesh and confessed his great anxieties. Shamash explained to Gilgamesh:
When the gods created mankind,
Death for mankind they allotted;
Life they retained in their own keeping.
Explaining further and attempting to have Gilgamesh accept his fate and enjoy the life he was given, Shamash continued:
Let full be thy belly, Gilgamesh;
Make thou merry by day and night!
Of each day, make thou a feast of rejoicing;
Day and night, dance thou and play!
Let thy garments be sparkling fresh,
thy head washed; bathe thou in water.
Pay heed to the little one that holds thy hand,
let thy spouse delight in thy bossom;
for this is the fate of mankind.
Mankind received this advice almost five thousand years ago. I'm forty years old.
How come nobody ever told me this??
Just kidding....I love that song by Sinatra
"Oh...the good life... seems to be.... the I...deal... Ralph Laurrren....Ro....mance....
makes me squeal....."
Hey! What's the Greek name for when the study of Pre-Christian religions makes one dream of having really hot, immensely satisfying, animal sex with a very sexy but conservative Christian Aunt?
And what might that mean?
Just asking....
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19
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Cum 'N Get It, Teddy, Afore I Slop It to the Hogs
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Posted:Jul 7, 2008 6:09 pm
Last Updated:Oct 23, 2008 10:15 pm
7497 Views
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Blue Cheese Buffalo Strokinoff
2 Ts Organic Butter
8 Oz. Organic Sliced Porcini Mushrooms
2 Med. Organic Yellow Onions, chopped
3 Cloves Organic Garlic, minced
1 ts Natural Sea Salt, Iodized
8 Oz. Organic Beef Stock
1 Can Organic Fire Roasted Crushed Tomatoes
4 Oz. Turner Road Cabernet Sauvignon 2005
1 ts Organic Thyme
1/2 ts Organic Rosemary
1 Lb. Ground Buffalo
1 8oz. Bag Organic Egg Noodles
1/2 Jar Newman's OWN Chunky Blue Cheese Dressing
1/5 U Tube /watch?v=VmrF9KjlGsc
Melt the butter in a large skillet and add the mushrooms, salt lightly, cover and sweat on med heat. When softened and lightly browned, add the chopped onions, garlic, more salt and continue to sweat the mixture until the onions are soft.
In a 2 qt sauce pan add the beef stock, tomatoes, wine and spices and cook on med. high heat with the lid off to slightly reduce the liquid.
When the onion aromatics are well sauteed, add them to the sauce pan with the beef stock mixture.
Brown the buffalo well, then pour the sauce mixture into the skillet. Continue cooking under med. high heat to further reduce the liquid.
Bring a large stock pot full of salted water to a boil and watch the video while the egg noodles cook. Stir the sauce mixture often.
Drain the noodles. Add the Blue Cheese Dressing to the sauce mixture. Blend well. Put the cooked noodles back into the stock pot and pour the sauce mixture over it. Blend well.
Allow it to fully sink in for a while and then dish it up.
Enjoy while you can, suckas!
Dis you know that Cargill is the largest, privately owned company in America? And Good Ol' Ted is the largest land owner at over 2 million acres?
Now Eat, Drink, and Make Merry, Y'all!!
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12
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The Unexpected, the Unexplained, the Unexpostfactoed
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Posted:Jun 30, 2008 8:22 pm
Last Updated:Jul 7, 2008 6:21 pm
7952 Views
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Got a call last night at 10 PM.
Ex-coworker and platonic, female friend...
On the road sounds in the background...
'Hey. What's up? Where you headed at this hour?'
"Did you get any hang-up calls tonight?"
'No. Why do you ask?'
"My husband got ahold of my phone and has your number in his phone. I thought he might have called you."
'No. Why would he call me? You okay?'
"Not really. Can't talk. My oldest is in the car with me"
'Okay...Where you headed?'
"To a friend's place. It isn't good."
'What's wrong? You okay?'
"I'm okay. It's over. You might get a few hang-up calls from him in the next couple of days."
'Huh?'
"I'll call you later."
'Yeah. Call me soon as you can.'
"Bye"
'Bye. Call me soon, soon, soon."
Number of calls: zero
Number of questions: numerable
I did send her a text message.
Stoning commences now, please....
( not the face or writing hand, please )
I will not have any more female friends.
I will not have any more female friends.
I will not have any more female friends.
I will not have any more female friends....
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13
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touch
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Posted:May 28, 2008 6:17 pm
Last Updated:Jun 30, 2008 4:54 pm
8262 Views
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Okay. Sunday is Ella's First birthday bash. YAY!
First off, I'm a bit drunk at the moment. Last night I found this really interesting bottle of wine made in Maipo, Chile by Baron Philippe de Rothschild. I was impressed. It was only nine bucks. I yanked the cork when I got home, poured a glass and took a sip. It was glorious! And then it closed up into this really, vile swill that I was barely able to drink another glass of... But I had faith in The Baron and knew he was up to more than just siring illegitinmate while on Holiday in Chile. So tonight the smoked porkchops and the cabbage with fennel seed hit the skillet, and I pulled the cork to find out what The Baron had really been up to. Wow! What a difference leting it breath for a day made- like drinking cold coffee, chocolate milk and grape juice at the same time. WOW!! I know it sounds nasty...but I can't stop drinking it.
I think they put some SLURM Cola in it for body.
But anyway, so the little nipper is turning Uno on Sunday!! I've been freaking out about this for almost a year now. Why? Because all of her neighbors are Yuppies, childless Yuppies, lonely childless Yuppies. And she has everything in triplicate or sterling silver. Seriously. There's nothing I could show up with that she doesn't already have.
What's that you say? An Uncle, she doesn't have an uncle until you show up... She has countless uncles, Yuppie Uncles...
But I planned for this moment years and years ago. When Sis and I were growing up, our favorite book was the Dr. Seuss, Sleep Book. And it just so happens that I happen to be in possession of said book. A book that everyone has believed missing for many, many years now. My secret trump card should this moment ever arise.
Maybe I should feel bad about keeping it a secret; but more than a secret, I've been keeping it in trust for a worthy, young imagination to drift away with its wonders opening the doors to dreams both awake and asleep. Sorry. Like I said, I'm a bit too drunk at the moment to express this properly. But It is THE ultimate bedtime story book!
My question is, should I include some money to establish a bedtime story library for Ella along with the Dr. Seuss book, or should I let the return of this Icon from out past stand on its own?
Sis is gonna be amazed and touched, and then she's gonna be pissed. And everyone else is gonna be totally confused and materialistically disoriented, and quite possibly stunned...
I dunno. I'm buzzing with the Baron.
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Wooing Futures Plummet, Meatloaf Rebounds
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Posted:May 23, 2008 10:17 pm
Last Updated:Jun 30, 2008 5:03 pm
8307 Views
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I do now believe that the cell phone text message has to be the worst instrument for wooing a woman. I take that back. Writing a love poem and placing it in a stoppered bottle adrift at sea is the worst method. The cell phone text message is only a very close second.
I once thought otherwise. I love to write and consider myself clever and charming in a Fred Mc Murray sort of way. Whoever that is. The name just popped into my head, so I wrote it down. And there is the problem with the cell phone text message: things just pop into my head and amuse me, and I write them into a text message and send them.
I expect the recipient to be thrilled and charmed and surprised to be the recipient of such a darling, little message. Especially since it's from me, and not Fred Mc Murray. See? That just popped into my head, so I wrote it down to share it in the hopes of some jocular bonding. I couldn't help myself. And so I would have sent another text message, even though I haven't even received any feedback on how the first message went over.
And I expect the recipient of this second message to be doubly thrilled and charmed and surprised to be the recipient of another darling, little message. And now I have two messages out there bobbing in the ether somewhere. And I'm sarting to get a little grouchy that I haven't been repayed with a message of my own. Grouchy like Charlie, the male house keeper and rough-edged foible to Fred Mc Murray's unflappable affability. See? I wrote that down, too. Because now I'm starting to get a bit antsy as to whether or not my first two Fred Mc Murray jokes were funny, and I'm fixating on Fred Mc Murray and dragging poor, grouchy Charlie into this mess.
But maybe that's a good thing, now that Charlie is here. He was always good with handing advice out to the boys about dames. I think the dames liked Charlie because he had that kind of rough edge to him that was a perfect foible to the affability that they were used to; and he made a mean meatloaf on Mondays, so the boys could have meatloaf sandwiches for their lunches on Tuesday.
I'm not sure what they had for dinner on Tuesdays, but I bet grouchy, old Charlie was suavely trading recipes down at the grocery store with all of the town MILFS. Yep. Charlie was a face-to-face man. You could take him at face value that he was a man of his word, and that the meatloaf recipe he traded you for your Tuesday Night Casserole recipe was a good meatloaf recipe. Yes ma'am. And worthy of making both tastey and nutritious sandwiches from the next day.
Charlie knew where he stood, and you knew where you stood with grouchy, old Charlie. Fred Mc Murray, on the other hand, always seemed a bit too affable. He wanted ya to love him, not just like him. Always made me wonder why he was raising three sons alone, and why he chose Charlie over Alice in a day where male housekeepers were still taboo. And why he really needed a housekeeper in the first place. And where the body was hid. Yep. He sure wanted ya to like him.
Maybe having a woman in the house would have sent mixed messages to the boys. And although I'm sure they could have benefitted from a feminine presence in their lives, I think they needed Charlie's rough-edged grumpiness to temper Fred Mc Murray's annoyingly unflappable affability.
So, by now you must be wondering what the hell is going on. I'm certain that you don't understand what is happening here. And now you know how I feel as I sit here and wait for a response to my text messages. Why hasn't she responded yet?
I've never seen her without a grande latte in one hand and her cell phone in the other, even while driving. I believe the battery of her phone continuously recharges from the energy of her voice that she directs towards it incessantly or maybe the caffeine on her breath is being absorbed by her phone and creating some sort of ion transport across a membrane that releases energy and keeps the battery charged. She's never seperated from it.
And she can't be asleep after drinking all of those lattes. I know. I know. I should have just called her in the first place and avoided the entire message trap. But the words were so insistant, "Make her read us. We have such deeper meanings to offer if she has to read us. We can work our wordy magic, astonish her with our literalness, enchant her with our figurativeness. You'll see when her words do the same for you...."
You owe me a dime, two dimes, you deceptive little text weasels!
And crap! She's gonna be mad at me for costing her twenty cents when I could have called her for free. What am I gonna do? Whatever am I gonna do? Supid! Stupid! Stupid me!
"You could always give her twenty cents the next time you see her," says the unflabbly affable Fred Mc Murray sagely as he strikes a match to relight his pipe.
"You're pathetic!", growls grouchy, old Charlie, "Here. Have a meatloaf sandwiche. I left the pickle off, figured you had enough of them already."
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14
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Batter Up
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Posted:May 10, 2008 2:58 pm
Last Updated:Jun 7, 2008 6:23 pm
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Following the tempura of the times, here goes:
Type your name (or comment) in my blog comments.
Once you do that, this is what I'll do for you...
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you which song or movie you remind me of.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jell to wrestle you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me. (if possible. if not, I'll say something that only makes sense to me.)
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.
*If you play, you MUST post this on yours. No exceptions!
A little encouragement usually gets me in a lot of trouble.
The nail biting commences now....
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To link to this blog (spinmedown) use [blog spinmedown] in your messages.
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