Blogatony Phil, he’s out.. He’s predicting: oh, 20, mebbe 25 more years of ‘roller coaster’.
Save your $1.25, here’s almost everything I recouped from today’s paper:
“Women often lack glitter in their golden years.” An article about non-preparedness (financially) of retirement by our nation’s partnerless women - and, the growing numbers of same. Damnit Jim, and I was hoping for a rich, divorced, 40-something blonde.
In Florida they actually have treatment centers for “Hurricane anxiety.” Living in the Midwest, meteorologists can only predict when the conditions are ripe for a tornado… One can only imagine what it’s like to see that big swirling blob coming at you for days.. Like anything in life though, another “oh shit” moment.
Dan Quayle’s advice to Sarah Palin: “Just be yourself.” Gee. Thanks Dan, but you say potatoe, I say potato.
Beer sales are up despite sluggish economy. Duh.
Edgar Allen Poe scholar Edgar Petit (Philadelphia resident) wants to dig up Poe’s body (buried in Baltimore) and bring it back to Philadelphia for “a proper burial.” Seems Poe did much of his work in Philly, and to Petit, it would only be appropriate. “So Philadelphians, let’s hop in our cars, drive down I-95 and appropriate a body from a certain Baltimore cemetery” he suggested, adding “I’ll bring the shovel.” The curator of the Poe House in Balt responded “Phlly can keep their cracked bell and it’s cheese steak, but Poe’s body isn’t going anywhere.” Yes. Leave the Poe fellow alone.
After I’d read a few sections of the paper drinking the fitty-four cent Senior coffee at Mickey D’s, took the resta the paper to Phillips 66 parking lot where there - I could smoke cigs to my heart’s content. Having one too many cuppa coffees, I hadta pee. I too, Edgar Petit, can start movements. BOYCOT PHILLIP! The basta’s have the nerve to have paper towel dispensing machines where you gotta actually PULL the arm down to get more towels! NOT TODAY! I want clap on lights, keyless remote car startup, slot machines where ya hit a button, and even faster DSL. . For behoogety sake, I bet they ain’t even gotta microwave in there. Jk. But aren’t we becoming a lazy society?
“Gas prices coming down.” Uh huh, after torturing my right arm having to pull down the paper towel thingy, I put ten bucks gas in my van. The low fuel light was still lit up. I hate when that happens.
50.4% of the babies born of women under 30 (why is today the day to pick on women?) are born out of wedlock. I don’t mean this judgmentally at all, but it is an amazing statistic. Coupled with the fact that more women are now “partner less” than “partnered” - mebbe it all speaks to us male piggies. Oink.
So, for the resta the day, I do hereby plan to do somea the below:
Mow. Yard ain’t bad but GD (gosh darn) remnants of Gustov made the water grass grow like a poplar tree.
Watch the Chief’s. I’m not into that BDSM crap, but figure what the hey, my arm’s been tortured, why not watch us lose 43-7 so my eyes can be as well.
Replace the toilet stool before the floor finally gives and we end up having to poop in the basement.
What’s that Maynard? Movies from Redbox? McDonalds after they switch from break’ to lunch? Gatorade from the Piggly Wiggly? A load of laundry? (I know, but it ain’t even worth the argument.)
Ahm, swing by Phillps (DON’T SAY THAT WORD!) for ten more dollars of gas.
I wonder if in Kansas City they have a “Maynard Anxiety” clinic?
I love him, but I oh so long for the day when I hear “It’s 10pm, do you know where your children are?” and the answer is “Nope. Don’t.”
Happy Sunday. And thanks to those that urged me back here. Truly. I’m thinkin’ about an egg and potatoe omelet right about now.
Oh. Had a date the other day. Outcome? Drum roll…. “You’re too quiet.” Eh, well. So now we know I’m too quiet. I’m too nice. I’m a bullshitter. It’s all good. I’m the baby, gotta love me - and thankfully, I do. (I don’t mean that ‘overdone’-like, but I thinkya kinda have to like yourself - with the realization we’re human, we’ll err.. To make it nowadays.)
Quietly yours, Love, Victurd.
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