I am, you?...
Since I've retired, aged, wrinkled - I've thought about a lot.. And then taken a nap.
Then it hit me. This life thing, it's one great big circle.
Older I get, the more I see 'kid' surfacing again.... Nap/Naps....
Yesterday, I hadn't eaten. Immense craving for a Fudge Stick. "You can't do that, you'll ruin your supper" I said to myself. Then, I had a Fudge Stick. "Mom, do we have another box of Thin Mints?" - There was one on the counter fifteen minutes ago, what happened to it? "Ahm, sorry mom, I already ate it." I resemble that remark.
I saw a meme the other day.. old guy was getting ready to walk out the door. He had quite the combination of clothes on (I think I remember it as a striped shirt, checkered shorts, sandals/black socks, fishing hat, yada.. his wife was sitting in the chair with a pistol. "What are you doing," he asked.. She said "You once told me long ago, 'If I ever go out of the house looking like that, just shoot me.' "
Ever been told (two hours after walking outta the house) "Your shirt is on inside out." Uh huh, me too.
Kids don't care what they wear - and it's quite entertaining to allow them to dress themselves. Additionally, the jeans they wear this year, won't fit next year. I can't tell you how many pairs (12) of jeans I've got of a certain size (I ain't telling) that I know there's no way in hell I'll ever fit into 'em but I'll be damned if I'm gonna toss 'em. "Well, maybe we'll have another child" is like "One day I will religiously go to the gym." Uh huh, right. We outgrow stuff. Kids outgrow stuff.
"Are we there yet, are we there yet, huh mom, are we there" is quite akin to "in 6.8 miles, turn North on 169." We be impatient, like kids. Sit back, enjoy the ride? Hell to the no's.. "it's 1.4 miles less than the first time you asked, 5.4 miles until we turn North on 169."
Selfish. Kids have no jobs. Few 'have to's'.. Dunno about you, but that's me. If I wanna sit my booty in the easy chair and watch seven and a half hours of The Golf Channel, by golly I'll do it, aka 'Pac-Man', 'Donkey Kong', 'Grand Theft Auto', yada. Idle, fat, happy, just like kids, or just like old farts.
To The Outhouse, by Willie Makeit. Kids, old farts, same dilemma. "Is that a pee stain? Go change your pants now" is akin to, (Out in public, buddy says) "Victor, it looks like you 'leaked' a bit, are there no mirrors in your house?" Truth be known, there's one, and it's above my sink in the bathroom, so I take no responsibility for anything below chest level, just like kids.
God love 'em, kids and their beginning writing. The 'E' in their name may be 2 inches above the first two letters and the 'R', four below that. Have you written a check recently? Uh huh, what I'm talking about. Kids/old farts, much in common.
Runs up staircases lead to falls, I found as a kid, and, also just the other week...... Laughs are accompanied by snorts....... We wear our birthday hat ALL day....
I want what I want, and I WANT IT NOW!
Staying in bed till noon on Saturday, or, whatever day in the summer for kids, or, in retirement for old farts...... Cannonball into the swimming pool, on purpose as a kid, not so much on purpose as an old fart.
Thinking wild thoughts and love all the little pleasures that make life. Yum as a kid, yummy as an old fart...... Making funny faces at kids on the bus, just as much fun 60+ years later...... We old farts get on people's nerves - just as kids can do.......
Kids cry at the drop of a hat, "No, you can't have that." "I told you MAYBE later, but not now." We old farts cry at the drop of a flashmob, a Marine coming home early to surprise his/her family, a story of an aging pet.
Bald spots...... Have a hard time listening..... We (kids, old farts) get distracted, a lot...... We, dance without care...... Life may be like a box of chocolates, but we too may pull one out, turn that sucker over and stick our finger in it to see if it's the kind we want. No? Then we put it back. Don't tell.....
There is no heart to mouth filter, we can make things awkward, but, at least ya know where we (kids/old farts) stand...... Flintstone Gummy Vitamins/Centrum Silver...... Balance, lack thereof......
We each mebbe have persuasion issues. Set in our minds, expectations of an objective answer has a bleak scope.....
Honey? In case we get in an accident, do you have on clean undies? "Yeah, I flipped 'em."
It was sooooooo much fun being a kid. It's soooooooo much fun being an old fart.
We're cute. I'm the baby, gotta love me. I'm the old fart, gotta love me.
Kids come out wrinkled. We go out wrinkled. What a great time of life - each.
Love, Victurd
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Al Gore did it.......... in the Library.... with the Candlestick.....
Or mebbe, an All-You-Can-Eat Buffet of Facebook, Twitter, "My Network", "Your Network", Sorry - you can't get a cake here, you're gay... sorry, you can't eat here, you work for DT has your gut busting... (Enter scream-I'm-going-crazy-this-wears-me-out.. here).
I'm thinking it's mebbe enough, some dude/dudette, finishing a 10, 20 year prison term - after a few weeks of witnessing what's going on in our Nation might walk back up to the prison door and offer "Ahm, can you let me back in?"
Or, dudes/dudettes, on the phone of life, might ask the operator "Can you put me back on hold, I was really enjoying that Rolling Stone song."
Good. We need good. (Victor, you're preaching again.. I've seen your anti-Trump posts, your high blood pressure replies back-and-forth with that guy you used to ride around with in his Mustang 50 years ago. Yeah, you're right, I've contributed, apologies. I know that ain't enough, but what I think I can do is share "good.")
I went to the laundry mat yesterday - walked in, heard "Good Morning!".. No face in sight, I saw the restroom door open, apparently employee in there cleaning.. "Hi, and good morning to you." Soon she came out, but she didn't stop or rest - she wiped down every machine there, picked up boo-koo dryer sheets we lazy ones had left on the floor.. held the door for a mom with an overflowing basket of clothes (and a 4 yr old right behind her).. then, this employee accompanied the mom back to her car, grabbed another overflowing basket the lady had, toted it in, and all the while, she whistled, smiled, chit-chatted, worked, sweated, EMULATED good.... Good (get ridda)grief. The lessons we can learn from someone making $9/hour and happy to have the job.
It was a friend's turn at the Mickey D's drive thru window... She handed her card to the snotnose (said lovingly, hey, I was once a snotnose too), smiling snotnose related "Hey, good news, the guy in front of you just paid for your meal,".. I probably woulda said "Cool" and driven off.. not my friend.. she paid for the car behind her. Good (get ridda) grief.
A two year old girl was drowning in her pool... was resuscitated after two hours of her heart not beating on its own. Lack of oxygen, deep gray matter injury and cerebral atrophy.. could no longer speak, walk or respond to voices. The medical team at LSU Health New Orleans and the University of North Dakota, doctors were able to significantly reverse the brain damage (hyberbaric oxygen therapy) experienced by the toddler. Good (get ridda) grief.
Bilal Quintyne is an amateur boxer who had been preparing to go for a run with his trainer in Smyrna, GA when he spotted a 67 yr old lady sitting in her wheelchair. The battery had died, and in spite of being in a bustling area, no one had stopped to help her for 45 minutes and she was simply trying to get back to her senior living home. Even though it was a 30 minute hike (and the wheelchair itself weighed 360 lbs) Quintyne did not falter, pushing her back to her home. Pastor of his church got wind of this, presented Bilal with a plaque, a tee-shirt and a $25 gift card.. "I just felt so much love," Quintyne said, "I don't see myself as no superhero, I don't see myself as no great guy, I'm just a moral man doing what I was put on this Earth to do." Good (get ridda) grief.
Mona and Des Manahan have been married 56 years. As Mona's eyesight started to detiorate, Des took her to a department store to get her makeup done for a party. "I started messing with the makeup lady, I said, 'Look, you've got it crooked there, you did this wrong,' joking her".. "And then she handed me the brushes and said 'Well, you do it.' So, I started to do a little bit with it." Turns out, Des was a natural, so much so he ended up taking makeup lessons from the lady. Today, he does his wife's makeup every day, and quite well. News outlets found out about it, a celebrity makeup artist found out, invited Des to master classes in London... Mona and Des touched by the amount of attention that their marriage has received, but they say they're mostly just happy to take care of each other in their golden years. Good (get ridda) grief.
I message to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. When your personal trash can becomes full to the brim with the every day yuck that accompanies our world ("This side, that side, arguments, discrimination, hatrid, murder, peace stalemate") Google "Good in this world today," there is plenty of it, thank God.
Good (get ridda) grief.
Charlie Brown
I'm thinking it's mebbe enough, some dude/dudette, finishing a 10, 20 year prison term - after a few weeks of witnessing what's going on in our Nation might walk back up to the prison door and offer "Ahm, can you let me back in?"
Or, dudes/dudettes, on the phone of life, might ask the operator "Can you put me back on hold, I was really enjoying that Rolling Stone song."
Good. We need good. (Victor, you're preaching again.. I've seen your anti-Trump posts, your high blood pressure replies back-and-forth with that guy you used to ride around with in his Mustang 50 years ago. Yeah, you're right, I've contributed, apologies. I know that ain't enough, but what I think I can do is share "good.")
I went to the laundry mat yesterday - walked in, heard "Good Morning!".. No face in sight, I saw the restroom door open, apparently employee in there cleaning.. "Hi, and good morning to you." Soon she came out, but she didn't stop or rest - she wiped down every machine there, picked up boo-koo dryer sheets we lazy ones had left on the floor.. held the door for a mom with an overflowing basket of clothes (and a 4 yr old right behind her).. then, this employee accompanied the mom back to her car, grabbed another overflowing basket the lady had, toted it in, and all the while, she whistled, smiled, chit-chatted, worked, sweated, EMULATED good.... Good (get ridda)grief. The lessons we can learn from someone making $9/hour and happy to have the job.
It was a friend's turn at the Mickey D's drive thru window... She handed her card to the snotnose (said lovingly, hey, I was once a snotnose too), smiling snotnose related "Hey, good news, the guy in front of you just paid for your meal,".. I probably woulda said "Cool" and driven off.. not my friend.. she paid for the car behind her. Good (get ridda) grief.
A two year old girl was drowning in her pool... was resuscitated after two hours of her heart not beating on its own. Lack of oxygen, deep gray matter injury and cerebral atrophy.. could no longer speak, walk or respond to voices. The medical team at LSU Health New Orleans and the University of North Dakota, doctors were able to significantly reverse the brain damage (hyberbaric oxygen therapy) experienced by the toddler. Good (get ridda) grief.
Bilal Quintyne is an amateur boxer who had been preparing to go for a run with his trainer in Smyrna, GA when he spotted a 67 yr old lady sitting in her wheelchair. The battery had died, and in spite of being in a bustling area, no one had stopped to help her for 45 minutes and she was simply trying to get back to her senior living home. Even though it was a 30 minute hike (and the wheelchair itself weighed 360 lbs) Quintyne did not falter, pushing her back to her home. Pastor of his church got wind of this, presented Bilal with a plaque, a tee-shirt and a $25 gift card.. "I just felt so much love," Quintyne said, "I don't see myself as no superhero, I don't see myself as no great guy, I'm just a moral man doing what I was put on this Earth to do." Good (get ridda) grief.
Mona and Des Manahan have been married 56 years. As Mona's eyesight started to detiorate, Des took her to a department store to get her makeup done for a party. "I started messing with the makeup lady, I said, 'Look, you've got it crooked there, you did this wrong,' joking her".. "And then she handed me the brushes and said 'Well, you do it.' So, I started to do a little bit with it." Turns out, Des was a natural, so much so he ended up taking makeup lessons from the lady. Today, he does his wife's makeup every day, and quite well. News outlets found out about it, a celebrity makeup artist found out, invited Des to master classes in London... Mona and Des touched by the amount of attention that their marriage has received, but they say they're mostly just happy to take care of each other in their golden years. Good (get ridda) grief.
I message to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. When your personal trash can becomes full to the brim with the every day yuck that accompanies our world ("This side, that side, arguments, discrimination, hatrid, murder, peace stalemate") Google "Good in this world today," there is plenty of it, thank God.
Good (get ridda) grief.
Charlie Brown
Saturday, June 23, 2018
Undo...... undid.... undone...
More nerdy fun with words. (Victor, write the damn blog, we'll tell you if it was fun or not.)
Ok, you win. I had a buddy one time that told me he was going to play Chinese blackjack. I fell for it, asked "how, what.. what do you mean?".. "Me Win".. Ha. (Victor, was that discriminatory?). Certainly wasn't meant to be.
Undid. Yesterday, I was so dadgum tired from golf (our college Fraternity annual, 40-some of us), emotionally wrought (in a very good way) with seeing buddies I hadn't seen in awhile(some, since college.) Physically wrought by playing 18 holes, thinking to myself "I wonder how many more years I can do this?"... Bending over 80+ times to place/pickup a golf ball (yes, bite me, 80 was our score for the scramble) I was in mid old person pain. So tired I wore my golf shoes into the house. So tired I did not undo them when I took them off. I know I know, that messes up shoes, so sorry, it's done, can't undo that I didn't undo.
Mooning. Mooning ranks right up there in old people grandeur with cranking the music as one drives.. typing something rather smartass on Facebook, yada. A very good group of friends behind us on the golf course, one of our buddies mooned them. We hear laughter (mostly our group).. and conversation followed in the clubhouse "Damnit (enter David Schwabauer here), we couldn't UNDO seeing that.. we didn't get a single birdie the rest of the way thanks to you." They say "you can't go back", many did, twas a blast and I can't wait until next year, the Good Lord willing.
Undone. I'm reminded of brassiere manufacturers, and the assuredly many times we men have cussed them - as in a fit of passion, ya can't undo the damn thing. Whereinthehell was George de Mestral when you needed him? (He invented Velcro)..
Words leaving mouth, you can't undo. Blurt equal hurt. It's too late, he's gone to far, he's lost the sun, he's come undone.
One of my favorite pastimes (and this could mebbe be added to the old people grandeur list) is to text friends across the room "your zipper is undone." Fun to watch them scramble. He didn't know what he was headed for, and when he found what he was headed for, it was too late..he'd come undone.
Undo of serious nature. Certain we all have them. My two biggest... Sister diagnosed with breast cancer.. first option double mastectomy, second option some type of stem cell therapy, if I remember correctly, red blood cells taken out, then chemo, then red blood cells reinserted. Second option was taken, it did not work. She's no longer here. If only one could undo that choice. (And that was a long time ago, medicine has come a long way so if you find yourself in a similar situation, please explore all choices, for enhancements certainly could have been made in the meantime.)
Second serious.. I wish my sister inlaw never ever got on a motorcycle. She's no longer here. If only one could undo that choice. I had tremendous relationships with each. It was a known (both ways) there was love. That said, one can never wing that word too much, especially with family, and especially in our perceived status of the world today.
This blog went South, and I apologize. I can't undo not being able to attempt humor any longer.
(Victor, closer to the end here, is this where you preach again?).. no, it's where I remind myself and you're welcome to tag along (or not.)
The message (to me) was to be "yes, SOME THINGS you can go back." Obviously, there are some things you can't undo, but I DO go back to simpler times - if not in my brain, in person like yesterday in seeing some buddies I hadn't seen in 42 years. Sure, we look different, walk different, are different - but deep down, there's that little boy/girl in all of us. That, you can't undo.
Go back. A letter, an email, a phone call, a text, A VISIT - go back.. relive...even if only in your own mind.. Someone once said "it does seem like you talk/write about the past a lot." True but... that sentence I just typed is now in the past. Yesterday is now in the past. Going back, however, enhanced my tomorrow.
The song goes:
She's come undone
She found a mountain that was far too high
And when she found out she couldn't fly
Mama it was too late
She's come undone
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I vote yes. The song was written by "The Guess" so what does that tellya? Go. Run. Hop. Jump. Relive. Rekindle. Stoke the fire of memories before it actually is too late and we can't undo not remembering them. Loveya,
Victurd
Ok, you win. I had a buddy one time that told me he was going to play Chinese blackjack. I fell for it, asked "how, what.. what do you mean?".. "Me Win".. Ha. (Victor, was that discriminatory?). Certainly wasn't meant to be.
Undid. Yesterday, I was so dadgum tired from golf (our college Fraternity annual, 40-some of us), emotionally wrought (in a very good way) with seeing buddies I hadn't seen in awhile(some, since college.) Physically wrought by playing 18 holes, thinking to myself "I wonder how many more years I can do this?"... Bending over 80+ times to place/pickup a golf ball (yes, bite me, 80 was our score for the scramble) I was in mid old person pain. So tired I wore my golf shoes into the house. So tired I did not undo them when I took them off. I know I know, that messes up shoes, so sorry, it's done, can't undo that I didn't undo.
Mooning. Mooning ranks right up there in old people grandeur with cranking the music as one drives.. typing something rather smartass on Facebook, yada. A very good group of friends behind us on the golf course, one of our buddies mooned them. We hear laughter (mostly our group).. and conversation followed in the clubhouse "Damnit (enter David Schwabauer here), we couldn't UNDO seeing that.. we didn't get a single birdie the rest of the way thanks to you." They say "you can't go back", many did, twas a blast and I can't wait until next year, the Good Lord willing.
Undone. I'm reminded of brassiere manufacturers, and the assuredly many times we men have cussed them - as in a fit of passion, ya can't undo the damn thing. Whereinthehell was George de Mestral when you needed him? (He invented Velcro)..
Words leaving mouth, you can't undo. Blurt equal hurt. It's too late, he's gone to far, he's lost the sun, he's come undone.
One of my favorite pastimes (and this could mebbe be added to the old people grandeur list) is to text friends across the room "your zipper is undone." Fun to watch them scramble. He didn't know what he was headed for, and when he found what he was headed for, it was too late..he'd come undone.
Undo of serious nature. Certain we all have them. My two biggest... Sister diagnosed with breast cancer.. first option double mastectomy, second option some type of stem cell therapy, if I remember correctly, red blood cells taken out, then chemo, then red blood cells reinserted. Second option was taken, it did not work. She's no longer here. If only one could undo that choice. (And that was a long time ago, medicine has come a long way so if you find yourself in a similar situation, please explore all choices, for enhancements certainly could have been made in the meantime.)
Second serious.. I wish my sister inlaw never ever got on a motorcycle. She's no longer here. If only one could undo that choice. I had tremendous relationships with each. It was a known (both ways) there was love. That said, one can never wing that word too much, especially with family, and especially in our perceived status of the world today.
This blog went South, and I apologize. I can't undo not being able to attempt humor any longer.
(Victor, closer to the end here, is this where you preach again?).. no, it's where I remind myself and you're welcome to tag along (or not.)
The message (to me) was to be "yes, SOME THINGS you can go back." Obviously, there are some things you can't undo, but I DO go back to simpler times - if not in my brain, in person like yesterday in seeing some buddies I hadn't seen in 42 years. Sure, we look different, walk different, are different - but deep down, there's that little boy/girl in all of us. That, you can't undo.
Go back. A letter, an email, a phone call, a text, A VISIT - go back.. relive...even if only in your own mind.. Someone once said "it does seem like you talk/write about the past a lot." True but... that sentence I just typed is now in the past. Yesterday is now in the past. Going back, however, enhanced my tomorrow.
The song goes:
She's come undone
She found a mountain that was far too high
And when she found out she couldn't fly
Mama it was too late
She's come undone
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I vote yes. The song was written by "The Guess" so what does that tellya? Go. Run. Hop. Jump. Relive. Rekindle. Stoke the fire of memories before it actually is too late and we can't undo not remembering them. Loveya,
Victurd
Thursday, June 21, 2018
I've had all I can stands, and I can't stands no more.....
Us old folks will recognize that as our beloved Popeye....
Buddy o' mine posted yesterday about finding a solution to anxiety over, "well, everything".. it was a tether ball, and he grabbed his baseball bat and whacked it one way, then whacked it the other way upon it's return, etc., etc., etc.
Popeye, of the above, in that episode took out his can of spinach, and, well, you know the rest. Speaking of tether ball poles, I've always wondered why he just didn't feed it to Olive Oil.
It was suggested to Edwin, my friend with anxiety over alla the stuff alla us have anxiety over (ain't that the nowadays way of the world?) that he go to Cici's Pizza and play the "Whack-a-Mole" game for an hour, kids be damned, "Wait your turn!"... Well, I loves me some Whack-a-Mole. As an 8 month veteran of retirement, I'm finding more spending than funds to spend - so, considering a part-time job. Mebbe at Cici's.. I could control the speed of the moles coming up - for kids, I'd slow it down.. then, if it looked like an adult I may not like, I'd crank that puppy to warp speed. Ha! Take that!
Another 'friend', kept a Voodoo doll on the fridge, and when someone pissed her (oops) off, she'd strategically place a straight pin on the voodoo person. Victor, whodo Voodoo? Well.. it was an ex... those that know me have a fitty fitty chance of getting that right.. You know, it's like I have black socks, and I have white socks.. I grab two in the dark, I gotta fitty fitty chance of getting the right answer/pair.
I too oft times find myself at wit's end. (Google tells us "The idiom at wits' end means to be very upset, or at the limits of one's emotional or mental limitations. It's commonly spelled at wit's end, but we say at the end of my wits, not at the end of my wit, so wits' end makes more sense.....) Prim, proper, homework, do this don't do that all give me anxiety. So, wit's end. Where was I..............
Oh yeah.. when I find myself in times of trouble (no, not Mother Mary..) I try to seek satisfaction, so.. I'll crank up I Can't Get No, Satisfaction. The older I get, the more I kinda sway from John, Paul, George, Ringo to the Rolling Stones. Ain't real sure why, but, ain't gonna get anxious over it.
Or, I listen to that Pharrell dude, fa' real, I do. Makes me happy, seeya later anxiety, don't let the blood pressure sleeve hitya in the ass. (Oh, that reminded me yesterday.... well....
That's a lie.. a text from WallyWorld Pharmacy reminded me, "time to refill blood pressure meds" so I did.. I also have tired of Whack-a-Moling, I've had all I can stands ANTS AND FLIES in my house... so, whilst at Wally, I bought four little 'apartments' (filled with poisin) for the ants, and four of those yucky fly strip things... as I rethink that decision, accidentally pressing up against those damn things several times yesterday and today - I ain't sure what makes me more anxious - the flies, or, walking into the fly strip only to have it follow me around the damn house. Time for more music, or whack-a-mole, or sumpin.
WOULDN'T IT BE NICE, if there were reminder texts (like Wally's Pharm reminders) for anxiety, and it would text you at no specific time of the day "Go listen to Louie Armstrong's Wonderful World"... or.. a video of the most recent Boot Barn commercial (THAT, is one fine looking lady... seeya anxiety.)
Annuder tool I use - remember the old Magic Erase thingy? It was made of heavy gauge cardboard, covered by a thin plastic sheet, you'd write whatever you wanted, lift the sheet and it would be magically erased. Using same, I won't be subject to second guessing like (former) Governor Greitens and the text deleting app he used, or, Hillary Clinton and her private email fiasco, and certainly not as "duh, really?" as the two FBI dudes who used company phones to text back and forth "Trump? Really?" Hells to the nos, Magic Erase was WAY AHEADA it's time. So... I draw pictures of people I no likey, add boogers, nose hairs, ear hairs, bald spots, and voila, lift that plastic up and away the evidence goes. It's soothing. It's better than Welbutrin.
Or, (had all I can stands, can't stands no more) I drive to the Community Center, don my swimsuit, take a quick shower to make it look like I've been working out in the gym an hour - and I then go to the sauna, anudder quick shower and then off to the Jacuzzi. Ah, YES! (NO correlation to seeing women in swimsuits, ok, maybe a tad.) I usedta do the sauna, then go straight to the Jacuzzi, until one day some lady say "You no follow rules, you must takey shower after sauna" - and she was right, so I do do that now... Victor, you can't use "do do" back to back. Ahm, I let my dog out to go do do, ha, take that!
Stress. Anxiety. All I can stands. Wit's end. Ya do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around, that's what it's all about.
Golf. Golf also does it for me. Oh, I usedta get all bent outta shape, into the throw club mode - but I've reached the conclusion I'm always going to be a terrible golfer - so, now, when I doink one in the pond I imagine to myself Billy Bass saying "What the hell is that Gertrude Bass?".. or, shanking one into the woods, and envisioning a Rocket J. Squirrel running up to try and eat it.
OK, I'll go now, I can sense your frustration, anxiety with this blog. (Mine too)..
So....... (Victor, don't preach).. Bite me.. So... try whack-a-mole.. or The Rolling Stones.. or Pharell.. or "Tether (Base)Ball"... or, do do a Voodoo doll.
Then again, I saw a fun meme yesterday that said "If someone is really annoying to you, run up and slap them and then yell MOSQUITO!"
Have fun humans, but be humane, don't put the straight pin in the crotch,
Love, Victurd
Buddy o' mine posted yesterday about finding a solution to anxiety over, "well, everything".. it was a tether ball, and he grabbed his baseball bat and whacked it one way, then whacked it the other way upon it's return, etc., etc., etc.
Popeye, of the above, in that episode took out his can of spinach, and, well, you know the rest. Speaking of tether ball poles, I've always wondered why he just didn't feed it to Olive Oil.
It was suggested to Edwin, my friend with anxiety over alla the stuff alla us have anxiety over (ain't that the nowadays way of the world?) that he go to Cici's Pizza and play the "Whack-a-Mole" game for an hour, kids be damned, "Wait your turn!"... Well, I loves me some Whack-a-Mole. As an 8 month veteran of retirement, I'm finding more spending than funds to spend - so, considering a part-time job. Mebbe at Cici's.. I could control the speed of the moles coming up - for kids, I'd slow it down.. then, if it looked like an adult I may not like, I'd crank that puppy to warp speed. Ha! Take that!
Another 'friend', kept a Voodoo doll on the fridge, and when someone pissed her (oops) off, she'd strategically place a straight pin on the voodoo person. Victor, whodo Voodoo? Well.. it was an ex... those that know me have a fitty fitty chance of getting that right.. You know, it's like I have black socks, and I have white socks.. I grab two in the dark, I gotta fitty fitty chance of getting the right answer/pair.
I too oft times find myself at wit's end. (Google tells us "The idiom at wits' end means to be very upset, or at the limits of one's emotional or mental limitations. It's commonly spelled at wit's end, but we say at the end of my wits, not at the end of my wit, so wits' end makes more sense.....) Prim, proper, homework, do this don't do that all give me anxiety. So, wit's end. Where was I..............
Oh yeah.. when I find myself in times of trouble (no, not Mother Mary..) I try to seek satisfaction, so.. I'll crank up I Can't Get No, Satisfaction. The older I get, the more I kinda sway from John, Paul, George, Ringo to the Rolling Stones. Ain't real sure why, but, ain't gonna get anxious over it.
Or, I listen to that Pharrell dude, fa' real, I do. Makes me happy, seeya later anxiety, don't let the blood pressure sleeve hitya in the ass. (Oh, that reminded me yesterday.... well....
That's a lie.. a text from WallyWorld Pharmacy reminded me, "time to refill blood pressure meds" so I did.. I also have tired of Whack-a-Moling, I've had all I can stands ANTS AND FLIES in my house... so, whilst at Wally, I bought four little 'apartments' (filled with poisin) for the ants, and four of those yucky fly strip things... as I rethink that decision, accidentally pressing up against those damn things several times yesterday and today - I ain't sure what makes me more anxious - the flies, or, walking into the fly strip only to have it follow me around the damn house. Time for more music, or whack-a-mole, or sumpin.
WOULDN'T IT BE NICE, if there were reminder texts (like Wally's Pharm reminders) for anxiety, and it would text you at no specific time of the day "Go listen to Louie Armstrong's Wonderful World"... or.. a video of the most recent Boot Barn commercial (THAT, is one fine looking lady... seeya anxiety.)
Annuder tool I use - remember the old Magic Erase thingy? It was made of heavy gauge cardboard, covered by a thin plastic sheet, you'd write whatever you wanted, lift the sheet and it would be magically erased. Using same, I won't be subject to second guessing like (former) Governor Greitens and the text deleting app he used, or, Hillary Clinton and her private email fiasco, and certainly not as "duh, really?" as the two FBI dudes who used company phones to text back and forth "Trump? Really?" Hells to the nos, Magic Erase was WAY AHEADA it's time. So... I draw pictures of people I no likey, add boogers, nose hairs, ear hairs, bald spots, and voila, lift that plastic up and away the evidence goes. It's soothing. It's better than Welbutrin.
Or, (had all I can stands, can't stands no more) I drive to the Community Center, don my swimsuit, take a quick shower to make it look like I've been working out in the gym an hour - and I then go to the sauna, anudder quick shower and then off to the Jacuzzi. Ah, YES! (NO correlation to seeing women in swimsuits, ok, maybe a tad.) I usedta do the sauna, then go straight to the Jacuzzi, until one day some lady say "You no follow rules, you must takey shower after sauna" - and she was right, so I do do that now... Victor, you can't use "do do" back to back. Ahm, I let my dog out to go do do, ha, take that!
Stress. Anxiety. All I can stands. Wit's end. Ya do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around, that's what it's all about.
Golf. Golf also does it for me. Oh, I usedta get all bent outta shape, into the throw club mode - but I've reached the conclusion I'm always going to be a terrible golfer - so, now, when I doink one in the pond I imagine to myself Billy Bass saying "What the hell is that Gertrude Bass?".. or, shanking one into the woods, and envisioning a Rocket J. Squirrel running up to try and eat it.
OK, I'll go now, I can sense your frustration, anxiety with this blog. (Mine too)..
So....... (Victor, don't preach).. Bite me.. So... try whack-a-mole.. or The Rolling Stones.. or Pharell.. or "Tether (Base)Ball"... or, do do a Voodoo doll.
Then again, I saw a fun meme yesterday that said "If someone is really annoying to you, run up and slap them and then yell MOSQUITO!"
Have fun humans, but be humane, don't put the straight pin in the crotch,
Love, Victurd
Monday, June 18, 2018
I read the news today, oh boy........
Well, that's a lie... I watched the news.. Then I binged Facebook... Then I went and took an Alka-Seltzer.
Posts still rolling in about Father's Day... National Day Calendar shows today to be National Splurge Day, as well as National Go Fishing Day.. Dads, go for it... Prospective dads, it's 363 days until Father's Day.. the average length of human gestation is 280 days, so hubba-hubba (but you still gotta few days to splurge, fish)...
Life expectancy for dudes is 76.3, for dudettes 81.3... so, get your calculators out, subtract, figure what you've got left - then, go, do, smile (or not), have fun (or not), splurge (or not), fish (ain't me, I'm going golfing)... Victor, you spout out all that info like you expect the average blog reader to "sit at attention" when you speak. Ahm, no, this is a recording, I do this FOR ME, hitchhikers welcome.
Justa reminder to put it all in perspective.
The basic thought, I've found, in retirement is "you know, I do wanna do that, but I think I'll do it tomorrow." Victor, get off your butt, periodically peek at that calculator - then figure out how/what you wanna do with what time you have.
Yeah but.. there are no yeah buts.. yeah but - look at my savings - there's more days than dollars... listen here 'crappie-breath', there's tons you can do without spending many buckaroos. Borrowing from that chipmunk Alvin "OOOOHHHHHH KKKKKK", then I'll splurge, I'll go fishing(golfing) but I ain't gonna be a daddy again.. Shooting blanks there Victor? Well yeah, that, and.. ahm.. well.. no takers.. hehe. So, is this where you write something stupid like "I guess I can still get a hole in one?".. Mebbe.
I am pretty sure I learned something about tomorrow yesterday (Victor, can you use the words 'tomorrow' and 'yesterday' consecutively to make sense? Well, it makes sense to me, I dunno about you. More. Tell me more.
OK. People posted things about their Fathers. I saw "larger than life." "A man of patience." "Would help a friend in need or a total stranger, patience of a saint.".. "Incredible man.".... "Count my blessings every day that my father is still around, I try to treasure each moment with him."
Yeah.. and what else?
"Quit school at 8th grade to help support his mother and two sisters when their father left them during the depression - we knew he loved us and was very proud of his family."... "taught junior high math in the inner city and you have a man who made a mark on this world."...
"Talked the talk but most importantly walked the walk."... "Loved his kids and his grandkids, and any child around."... "Never turned away a friend of mine that needed a job."... "unquestionable confidence irrepressible"... "Exceedingly loyal.".. "Bought a farm stead in Liberty after the war and had 11 babies with the love of his life."
"Never met a stranger." "One word comes to mind, LOVE."... "He had more friends than I'll ever know."... "My relationships with him were parent-child, adult-adult, business partner-mentor and mostly friend-to-friend, I miss him greatly."
"War vet, printer, coach, and always a father." "Marine, union man, all American football player." "With three boys, he had to discipline but he was always there with a velvet glove to place on our shoulder when we needed it."
So Victor, what'd you learn yesterday about today/tomorrow?
Well, I learned there ain't much above said about bank accounts, climbing corporate ladders, the size of the home you live in... it seems all those people, it wasn't about "what do you think of me" it was more, "I think of you." Didn't Kennedy say something kinda similar? Yeah, I think he did.
Examples. Thank you friends for the examples. In addition to that dreaded calculation on "how much time is left", I reckon we should keep our father figures in the backa our mind too.
I read the news today, oh boy....
Yeah but.. VICTOR, there you go again. Yeah but, maybe tomorrow ain't as messed up as it appears if we can only partially live up to, replicate yesterday.
"You know, I do wanna do that (alla the wonderful role model goodies above), but I think I'll do it tomorrow, I think I'll spurge, go fishing (golfing) today."
I give up. NO DON'T! Is that another 'yeah but'?
Yeah but, I'll get my calculator and role model illustrations out tomorrow, a promise. It's National Splurge/Fish (Golf) day.
Have a great day, and even greater tomorrows.....
Love, Victurd
Posts still rolling in about Father's Day... National Day Calendar shows today to be National Splurge Day, as well as National Go Fishing Day.. Dads, go for it... Prospective dads, it's 363 days until Father's Day.. the average length of human gestation is 280 days, so hubba-hubba (but you still gotta few days to splurge, fish)...
Life expectancy for dudes is 76.3, for dudettes 81.3... so, get your calculators out, subtract, figure what you've got left - then, go, do, smile (or not), have fun (or not), splurge (or not), fish (ain't me, I'm going golfing)... Victor, you spout out all that info like you expect the average blog reader to "sit at attention" when you speak. Ahm, no, this is a recording, I do this FOR ME, hitchhikers welcome.
Justa reminder to put it all in perspective.
The basic thought, I've found, in retirement is "you know, I do wanna do that, but I think I'll do it tomorrow." Victor, get off your butt, periodically peek at that calculator - then figure out how/what you wanna do with what time you have.
Yeah but.. there are no yeah buts.. yeah but - look at my savings - there's more days than dollars... listen here 'crappie-breath', there's tons you can do without spending many buckaroos. Borrowing from that chipmunk Alvin "OOOOHHHHHH KKKKKK", then I'll splurge, I'll go fishing(golfing) but I ain't gonna be a daddy again.. Shooting blanks there Victor? Well yeah, that, and.. ahm.. well.. no takers.. hehe. So, is this where you write something stupid like "I guess I can still get a hole in one?".. Mebbe.
I am pretty sure I learned something about tomorrow yesterday (Victor, can you use the words 'tomorrow' and 'yesterday' consecutively to make sense? Well, it makes sense to me, I dunno about you. More. Tell me more.
OK. People posted things about their Fathers. I saw "larger than life." "A man of patience." "Would help a friend in need or a total stranger, patience of a saint.".. "Incredible man.".... "Count my blessings every day that my father is still around, I try to treasure each moment with him."
Yeah.. and what else?
"Quit school at 8th grade to help support his mother and two sisters when their father left them during the depression - we knew he loved us and was very proud of his family."... "taught junior high math in the inner city and you have a man who made a mark on this world."...
"Talked the talk but most importantly walked the walk."... "Loved his kids and his grandkids, and any child around."... "Never turned away a friend of mine that needed a job."... "unquestionable confidence irrepressible"... "Exceedingly loyal.".. "Bought a farm stead in Liberty after the war and had 11 babies with the love of his life."
"Never met a stranger." "One word comes to mind, LOVE."... "He had more friends than I'll ever know."... "My relationships with him were parent-child, adult-adult, business partner-mentor and mostly friend-to-friend, I miss him greatly."
"War vet, printer, coach, and always a father." "Marine, union man, all American football player." "With three boys, he had to discipline but he was always there with a velvet glove to place on our shoulder when we needed it."
So Victor, what'd you learn yesterday about today/tomorrow?
Well, I learned there ain't much above said about bank accounts, climbing corporate ladders, the size of the home you live in... it seems all those people, it wasn't about "what do you think of me" it was more, "I think of you." Didn't Kennedy say something kinda similar? Yeah, I think he did.
Examples. Thank you friends for the examples. In addition to that dreaded calculation on "how much time is left", I reckon we should keep our father figures in the backa our mind too.
I read the news today, oh boy....
Yeah but.. VICTOR, there you go again. Yeah but, maybe tomorrow ain't as messed up as it appears if we can only partially live up to, replicate yesterday.
"You know, I do wanna do that (alla the wonderful role model goodies above), but I think I'll do it tomorrow, I think I'll spurge, go fishing (golfing) today."
I give up. NO DON'T! Is that another 'yeah but'?
Yeah but, I'll get my calculator and role model illustrations out tomorrow, a promise. It's National Splurge/Fish (Golf) day.
Have a great day, and even greater tomorrows.....
Love, Victurd
Friday, June 15, 2018
The Back Nine...
Thank you for being here... My life can be, perty frequently, boring - so, deducting you must be too! Anyways, thanks.
I was returning an email to my first cousin. She'd returned an email to me thanking me for Birthday wishes (70-something, but who's counting!)- and she related a story where she'd gone to her grandson's little league game - the team won convincingly... after the game, instead of heading to leftfield for their normal 'talk', they headed toward the grandstand, piped out singing "Happy Birthday" to her, then awarded her the game ball.. How cool was that?!"
I closed my email to her with, "playing a lot of golf.. Monday thru Friday in fact, walking 18 holes (a small par 3 course).." and "you'd think TWO things would happen.. One) I'd get better at golf (I ain't) and Two) I'd work somea this damn fat off my belly (I ain't)"...
Fast forward to 8:20am this morning. I was walking up the 9th fairway, found a brand spankin' new ball (a "Bridgestone") hidden under some mowed grass.. pocketed it, and the plan was to put it in onea those 'ball washer' thingies once I got to the back nine.
In golf, the back nine is kinda like starting over.. a do over.. a second chance.. I'd shot 2 strokes more than what I'd hoped on the front nine, SO, the back nine was my second chance.
In life, you can't go back, nope - but, mebbe it can be considered 'the back nine' from this day forward. Will we make similar mistakes? Oh sure, but there ain't nuttin' wrong with hope, a pumped up attitude and positive thinking. Yes, all the damn strokes add up to 'make life', your score, the summation - but you get my drift, it's like filling up the gas tank, yippie, let's go!
So, I turned the handle on the ball washer thingy, scrubbing the new ball clean, wiping all the grass, dirt off. Damnit darnit, as I pulled it from the thingy, I noticed (on the other side of 'Bridgestone') "LADY". Symbolic, probably, and that's nuttin' derogatory toward women golfers, cause I've had my lunch handed to me many times by some fine lady golfers. Victor, shut up, we get your point.
So, I tucked Lady in my pocket, teed off a different ball on #10, all is good, life is good, pep in my step, "DO BETTER DANGIT VICTOR"... I'll try.
Long about the 12th hole I remembered I always use a 7 iron here, I always hit it short right (You don't get better without instruction and I've learned my head is hard, or at least a woman or four have relayed that info to me.) So, I hit my 7 iron, and damnit darnit, it was short right. The pep in my step quickly went to poop, I yanked Lady outta my pocket, told golf "I'll show you", opened my stance, hit a sweet shot onto the middle of the green. It didn't/couldn't count, you don't get mulligans, and besides, God was watching me write my scores down... but, it felt good, thank you Lady.
Played 13, got to 14, it's a tad longer.. wanted to use Lady, then I remembered there was tall grass around the hole, and yesterday I'd played a hole with tall grass, couldn't find my ball.. three kind fellows waiting to tee off assisted me and one of them found my ball. So.. I pictured the same happening, dude picking this one up, laughing and yelling "HA, LADY!"... so, I played a different ball.
#16. Pond staring at me just on the other side of the tee off, plush green ahead - short, recently mowed grass all around. Not all that long ago, the pond woulda skeered me, but with fair regularity of late I've been getting over it, and in fact hitting close to or on the green. Thus, "Lady.. you're on." I teed her up, WHAM... damnit darnit I lifted my head, I topped the ball (which means it barely gets off the ground) straight to the pond it went, but lo and behold, 'she' had such force it SKIPPED across and actually rolled pretty close to the hole. I found this symbolic of all the help I've received from "Lady"(s) in my life. Meals cooked, clothes washed, encouraging words, etc., and of late, rides to and from surgery. Thank you Lady, ladies.
#17. Wind in my face. Pond behind the hole this time. So, I used a 'club up' (one that I would normally hit into the pond, but since the wind was in my face, I chanced it hoping it wouldn't go as far.) "Come on Lady, do your thing." She did, high and mighty, and right into the damn pond. Story of my life, "Lady leaves here, on this date." Ha.
Played #18, totaled my card. In spite of paring #18, two over plan on the back nine too - again mebbe symbolic, sometimes second chances can be butchered. (I typed "parring" but the guy inside my computer underlined it in red, so I guess it's "Paring", that just don't look right. Wish the Birthday girl, my English teaching cousin were here for guidance.)
As has become fashion, I sat atop a shady mound just beyond the 18th, to give thanks, say a prayer. YOU VICTOR? Yes, me Victor. Ya turn around, there's the beauty. The green, the trees, the water, the deep blue sky.. the nice people encountered (Lil gal that picks up trash on the course had seen me hit Lady into the water.. drove up, "Here, I found these (golf balls) today and I sawya hit that one in the water.").. so, included her in my prayers.. and even the two most recent Ladies the bid me adieu. And, EVEN my ex. No Victor, not her, yes.. her. She's a good person too.
See how boring my life is and you're still here, ha!
Down the Interstate, "home here I come." My "Front nine" radio station is talk radio. I love love love the afternoon folks. I can't stand the specific laughs of the two morning folks (eh, I'm sure good people, they just ain't for me) so - I switched to my old people's rock station. "Can't You See" by Marshall Tucker blaring, hell to the yes. I know the words are sad, but dadgum, the beat, gets me up.. and the flute, yum. Long song. People passing me, hearing it blared, seeing a Senior Citizen with it cranked, so I sneered and gave em a "Bite me, I coulda been at Woodstock" look.
THEN, "Another Brick in The Wall", another LONG song, great beat, fun, again, cranked. Thinking to myself the disc jockey has either got diarrhea or he's a chain smoker, anyways, enjoyed rocking to the exit ramp. "If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding.. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?"
The exit ramp. Filled. The traffic, my little ole hometown. "Who the hell are all these people? We usedta wave at every other car." Oh well.
Home. Thought, thanked The Back Nine, second chances, God, Lady(s), golf, life - all.
Tomorrow is another day, the Good Lord willing.
By Henry Gibson,
Love, Victurd.
I was returning an email to my first cousin. She'd returned an email to me thanking me for Birthday wishes (70-something, but who's counting!)- and she related a story where she'd gone to her grandson's little league game - the team won convincingly... after the game, instead of heading to leftfield for their normal 'talk', they headed toward the grandstand, piped out singing "Happy Birthday" to her, then awarded her the game ball.. How cool was that?!"
I closed my email to her with, "playing a lot of golf.. Monday thru Friday in fact, walking 18 holes (a small par 3 course).." and "you'd think TWO things would happen.. One) I'd get better at golf (I ain't) and Two) I'd work somea this damn fat off my belly (I ain't)"...
Fast forward to 8:20am this morning. I was walking up the 9th fairway, found a brand spankin' new ball (a "Bridgestone") hidden under some mowed grass.. pocketed it, and the plan was to put it in onea those 'ball washer' thingies once I got to the back nine.
In golf, the back nine is kinda like starting over.. a do over.. a second chance.. I'd shot 2 strokes more than what I'd hoped on the front nine, SO, the back nine was my second chance.
In life, you can't go back, nope - but, mebbe it can be considered 'the back nine' from this day forward. Will we make similar mistakes? Oh sure, but there ain't nuttin' wrong with hope, a pumped up attitude and positive thinking. Yes, all the damn strokes add up to 'make life', your score, the summation - but you get my drift, it's like filling up the gas tank, yippie, let's go!
So, I turned the handle on the ball washer thingy, scrubbing the new ball clean, wiping all the grass, dirt off. Damnit darnit, as I pulled it from the thingy, I noticed (on the other side of 'Bridgestone') "LADY". Symbolic, probably, and that's nuttin' derogatory toward women golfers, cause I've had my lunch handed to me many times by some fine lady golfers. Victor, shut up, we get your point.
So, I tucked Lady in my pocket, teed off a different ball on #10, all is good, life is good, pep in my step, "DO BETTER DANGIT VICTOR"... I'll try.
Long about the 12th hole I remembered I always use a 7 iron here, I always hit it short right (You don't get better without instruction and I've learned my head is hard, or at least a woman or four have relayed that info to me.) So, I hit my 7 iron, and damnit darnit, it was short right. The pep in my step quickly went to poop, I yanked Lady outta my pocket, told golf "I'll show you", opened my stance, hit a sweet shot onto the middle of the green. It didn't/couldn't count, you don't get mulligans, and besides, God was watching me write my scores down... but, it felt good, thank you Lady.
Played 13, got to 14, it's a tad longer.. wanted to use Lady, then I remembered there was tall grass around the hole, and yesterday I'd played a hole with tall grass, couldn't find my ball.. three kind fellows waiting to tee off assisted me and one of them found my ball. So.. I pictured the same happening, dude picking this one up, laughing and yelling "HA, LADY!"... so, I played a different ball.
#16. Pond staring at me just on the other side of the tee off, plush green ahead - short, recently mowed grass all around. Not all that long ago, the pond woulda skeered me, but with fair regularity of late I've been getting over it, and in fact hitting close to or on the green. Thus, "Lady.. you're on." I teed her up, WHAM... damnit darnit I lifted my head, I topped the ball (which means it barely gets off the ground) straight to the pond it went, but lo and behold, 'she' had such force it SKIPPED across and actually rolled pretty close to the hole. I found this symbolic of all the help I've received from "Lady"(s) in my life. Meals cooked, clothes washed, encouraging words, etc., and of late, rides to and from surgery. Thank you Lady, ladies.
#17. Wind in my face. Pond behind the hole this time. So, I used a 'club up' (one that I would normally hit into the pond, but since the wind was in my face, I chanced it hoping it wouldn't go as far.) "Come on Lady, do your thing." She did, high and mighty, and right into the damn pond. Story of my life, "Lady leaves here, on this date." Ha.
Played #18, totaled my card. In spite of paring #18, two over plan on the back nine too - again mebbe symbolic, sometimes second chances can be butchered. (I typed "parring" but the guy inside my computer underlined it in red, so I guess it's "Paring", that just don't look right. Wish the Birthday girl, my English teaching cousin were here for guidance.)
As has become fashion, I sat atop a shady mound just beyond the 18th, to give thanks, say a prayer. YOU VICTOR? Yes, me Victor. Ya turn around, there's the beauty. The green, the trees, the water, the deep blue sky.. the nice people encountered (Lil gal that picks up trash on the course had seen me hit Lady into the water.. drove up, "Here, I found these (golf balls) today and I sawya hit that one in the water.").. so, included her in my prayers.. and even the two most recent Ladies the bid me adieu. And, EVEN my ex. No Victor, not her, yes.. her. She's a good person too.
See how boring my life is and you're still here, ha!
Down the Interstate, "home here I come." My "Front nine" radio station is talk radio. I love love love the afternoon folks. I can't stand the specific laughs of the two morning folks (eh, I'm sure good people, they just ain't for me) so - I switched to my old people's rock station. "Can't You See" by Marshall Tucker blaring, hell to the yes. I know the words are sad, but dadgum, the beat, gets me up.. and the flute, yum. Long song. People passing me, hearing it blared, seeing a Senior Citizen with it cranked, so I sneered and gave em a "Bite me, I coulda been at Woodstock" look.
THEN, "Another Brick in The Wall", another LONG song, great beat, fun, again, cranked. Thinking to myself the disc jockey has either got diarrhea or he's a chain smoker, anyways, enjoyed rocking to the exit ramp. "If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding.. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?"
The exit ramp. Filled. The traffic, my little ole hometown. "Who the hell are all these people? We usedta wave at every other car." Oh well.
Home. Thought, thanked The Back Nine, second chances, God, Lady(s), golf, life - all.
Tomorrow is another day, the Good Lord willing.
By Henry Gibson,
Love, Victurd.
Sunday, June 10, 2018
"The Beatles saved the world from boredom." George Harrison
HELP, I need somebody, HELP, not just anybody, HELP, you know I need someone.....
Boredom, I've found, hits most of us. Particularly us single old farts. One tires of talking to him/herself, right Victor? Uh huh.
So I Googled ways to combat boredom.. There were some really good ones, but, the suggested ones just below made me wanna upchuck:
"Scrub your baseboards" Are you frigging kidding me? Have you recently watched a Senior Citizen get him/herself up off the floor? Yuck.
"Organize your junk drawer".. THEN what would you call it? I personally find great satisfaction in hunting for a specific something, whispering a baby cussword to myself when I can't find it, and then revelling in "AHA!" when I finally find it. My homework was ALWAYS dog-eared, no thank you.
"Rearrange your furniture." We old people get up, OFTEN, to pee in the middle of the night. Do you find this "rearrange your furniture" as some kinda funny? Scroll to seeing/watching a Senior Citizen get him/herself up off of the floor. Day Tripper (night too.)
"Replace your shelf paper." Duh. Victor, contain yourself, it's exciting to do this - change from your autumn burnt orange, to Winter White to a Summery Forest Green. Strawberry Fields Forever. Hogwash. If they ever start making shelf paper with pictures of Natalie Portman, Charlize Theron, Margot Robbie, then MAYBE - but not until.
"Clean out your closet" - sorry, I only open my closet door on Mondays. I take out seven tops I'm to wear for the week, pick everything else up off he floor, throw it back in, force the door shut. OH BOY OH BOY, LET'S CLEAN OUT THE CLOSET! Patooey.
"Research a new career." Roll Over Beethoven? Ahem, just get here? When I'm Sixty-Four. Too late.
"Start your own blog." Paperback Writer? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
Come on George, this ain't doing much to combat boredom, help me (if you can I'm feeling down.) "Eight Days a Week." Nope, doesn't help. Seven days of boredom is aplenty.... "I'm A Loser." George, you're kinda pissing me off. "Revolution." Nope, just ideas to combat boredom. "Taxman." Haha, very funny. "Good Day Sunshine." Thanks, but chirpy don't do squat for boredom.
On the other hand, there were a few ideas I kinda liked:
"Take a nap." Hell to the yes. I'm Only Sleeping.
"Get a massage." Yeah baby, but, it's gonna have to be a Groupon kinda thing on a fixed income, good idea though. "Fixing A Hole" lotta muscles.
"Create a life plan." Awaken, breakfast, nap, golf, lunch, nap, The Ellen Show, maybe an occasional Happy Hour with Bubba buddies, nap, the News (whichever network has the earliest one), bed. Done! Now I'm bored again.
"Have sex." You mean like, Why Don't We Do It In the Road? Ahm, that would take two. I Wanna Be Your Man. Victor, just Act Naturally. Hang on, lemme make a few phone calls. Or, twelve-thousand phone calls. Got To Get You Into My Life. I Want To Hold Your Hand, and mebbe udder things. Ah but to dream. She Came In Through The Bathroom Window. Can't Buy Me Love.
Regarding the above, Victor, check your address book. Oh yeah, let's see: Michelle.. Lovely Rita... Maggie Mae.. Long Tall Sally.... Dizzy Miss Lizzy.... Anna.. Lady Madonna.. Lucille.. Eleanor Rigby.... Dear Prudence..
Boredom, Here There Everywhere. Chains.
Do You Want To Know a Secret? I ain't really that bored. Oh, I planta get a part-time job, yuck, necessity. Mebbe volunteer. Paint, s'more, grandkids liked last ones I did. I stay pretty busy. Grandkids, Golf Channel. Cooking. You know, A Day In The Life.
I know! I'll go to Kansas City.. Kansas City here I come. Day Tripper. Drive My Car.
I'd better go. Junk allover the house. Here There Everywhere. The Long And Winding Road, the Good Lord willing.
Money (That's What I Want.) Hello, Goodbye.
(I know I know, I'm A Loser, I Am The Walrus, koo koo ka choo. Victor, Let It Be. OK.
Love, Victurd
(Victor, you're weird.... Did you just get here too?)
Boredom, I've found, hits most of us. Particularly us single old farts. One tires of talking to him/herself, right Victor? Uh huh.
So I Googled ways to combat boredom.. There were some really good ones, but, the suggested ones just below made me wanna upchuck:
"Scrub your baseboards" Are you frigging kidding me? Have you recently watched a Senior Citizen get him/herself up off the floor? Yuck.
"Organize your junk drawer".. THEN what would you call it? I personally find great satisfaction in hunting for a specific something, whispering a baby cussword to myself when I can't find it, and then revelling in "AHA!" when I finally find it. My homework was ALWAYS dog-eared, no thank you.
"Rearrange your furniture." We old people get up, OFTEN, to pee in the middle of the night. Do you find this "rearrange your furniture" as some kinda funny? Scroll to seeing/watching a Senior Citizen get him/herself up off of the floor. Day Tripper (night too.)
"Replace your shelf paper." Duh. Victor, contain yourself, it's exciting to do this - change from your autumn burnt orange, to Winter White to a Summery Forest Green. Strawberry Fields Forever. Hogwash. If they ever start making shelf paper with pictures of Natalie Portman, Charlize Theron, Margot Robbie, then MAYBE - but not until.
"Clean out your closet" - sorry, I only open my closet door on Mondays. I take out seven tops I'm to wear for the week, pick everything else up off he floor, throw it back in, force the door shut. OH BOY OH BOY, LET'S CLEAN OUT THE CLOSET! Patooey.
"Research a new career." Roll Over Beethoven? Ahem, just get here? When I'm Sixty-Four. Too late.
"Start your own blog." Paperback Writer? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
Come on George, this ain't doing much to combat boredom, help me (if you can I'm feeling down.) "Eight Days a Week." Nope, doesn't help. Seven days of boredom is aplenty.... "I'm A Loser." George, you're kinda pissing me off. "Revolution." Nope, just ideas to combat boredom. "Taxman." Haha, very funny. "Good Day Sunshine." Thanks, but chirpy don't do squat for boredom.
On the other hand, there were a few ideas I kinda liked:
"Take a nap." Hell to the yes. I'm Only Sleeping.
"Get a massage." Yeah baby, but, it's gonna have to be a Groupon kinda thing on a fixed income, good idea though. "Fixing A Hole" lotta muscles.
"Create a life plan." Awaken, breakfast, nap, golf, lunch, nap, The Ellen Show, maybe an occasional Happy Hour with Bubba buddies, nap, the News (whichever network has the earliest one), bed. Done! Now I'm bored again.
"Have sex." You mean like, Why Don't We Do It In the Road? Ahm, that would take two. I Wanna Be Your Man. Victor, just Act Naturally. Hang on, lemme make a few phone calls. Or, twelve-thousand phone calls. Got To Get You Into My Life. I Want To Hold Your Hand, and mebbe udder things. Ah but to dream. She Came In Through The Bathroom Window. Can't Buy Me Love.
Regarding the above, Victor, check your address book. Oh yeah, let's see: Michelle.. Lovely Rita... Maggie Mae.. Long Tall Sally.... Dizzy Miss Lizzy.... Anna.. Lady Madonna.. Lucille.. Eleanor Rigby.... Dear Prudence..
Boredom, Here There Everywhere. Chains.
Do You Want To Know a Secret? I ain't really that bored. Oh, I planta get a part-time job, yuck, necessity. Mebbe volunteer. Paint, s'more, grandkids liked last ones I did. I stay pretty busy. Grandkids, Golf Channel. Cooking. You know, A Day In The Life.
I know! I'll go to Kansas City.. Kansas City here I come. Day Tripper. Drive My Car.
I'd better go. Junk allover the house. Here There Everywhere. The Long And Winding Road, the Good Lord willing.
Money (That's What I Want.) Hello, Goodbye.
(I know I know, I'm A Loser, I Am The Walrus, koo koo ka choo. Victor, Let It Be. OK.
Love, Victurd
(Victor, you're weird.... Did you just get here too?)
Saturday, June 09, 2018
Word nerd.......
I am that. You?
I am particularly fond of the words reflect and reflection.
As I age, night driving, the reflection of other's headlights drives me crazy. It makes me wanna toss my keys aside to never drive again, then I remember "why, it was just a few years ago I/we ran the 600 yard dash in school." That's a joke son.
Reflection in the mirror proves interesting. Back in the flat belly days, I used 100 Watt incandescent bulbs in the bathroom. You could see a pimple before that sucker ever sprouted. The light didn't bug my eyes and the skin was as glassy as a big lake before the damn boats got on the water.
Thirtysomething, I'm blaming children for droopy eyes, thus, switched to 80 watt.
Fortysomething, taking that first wipe across the face after shaving yielded seeing small 'creeks' of shaving cream - to hell with that, gimme 60 watt.
Uh huh, eventually 40 watt, to the tune of "holy crap, is that really me in there?"
Then, big mistake, everyone else is buying LED bulbs, I might as well too. I dunno why, but ear hairs on men stay in the lobes for years, the baby ear hairs begging to surface, the mommy/daddy ear hairs saying "NO, he ain't sixty yet.. go watch TV, play on your tablet.. we ain't coming out until he hits 60, THEN, katy bar the lobe. And they have, thus, the LED - and that too is fancy for it's getting harder and harder to hit the damn toilet when I pee at this age.
"The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection." Thomas Paine
Enough about mirrors. Well, that's not true - one more. Due to recent tragic passings, I think it should be said "no matter how badly that reflection looks, be it physical, mental, yada - THERE IS BEAUTY IN THAT MIRROR. You are of value - no matter how you think you might not be. Stay. Seek help. Seek friends, they're aplenty. Share of your struggle - ya just might find someone who says "me too, let's work thru this together."
"Beauty is not about who you are on the outside, it is the wisdom and time you give away to save another struggling soul like you." Shannon L. Alder.
As I often do, I took a spin around town after breakfast out this morning. Ah reflection. I do feel fairly lucky to have lived in this 'small town' for as long as I have - as you can hardly go anywhere without something conjuring up a memory of yesteryear. This morning it was the old High School, the City Park, Franklin, topped off by two trips around the farmer's market on the square. Yes, two. That has nothing to do with the lady with simply gorgeous raven hair I caught a glimpse of the first time around. Ok, maybe just a tad.
"I'm a reflection of the community." Tupac Shakur
But ya know, reflection comes in many varieties.. The Military brat - how lucky are you to remember the various places, dialects, friends.. No, you can't take a Sunday drive to see all - but, ten minutes on your back in bed can take you there in a flash. If you've moved a few times, it may be hard to reflect on 'home', but all that have come before - make up who you are now - so, memories, reflections aplenty.
Reflection = past tense. Hold the phone there Gertrude - what we do today reflects on tomorrow. I've heard once or twice, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. Hold your damn head up Victor, don't be the poor poor pitiful me today, for your reflection tomorrow will liken Lonesome George.
So, later, as I teed up my El Cheapo Golf ball (purchased on Amazon $8.94 + tax for a dozen, free shipping, two days from my laptop to my mailbox) I made sure it was the exact height for it to head 200+ yards ahead to land softly mid-fairway. I swung, it went. It went 100 yards South, then made an immediate 100 yard turn East, only to plop into the large pond adjoining hole #1. Splish splash it was taking a bath. Shout out the dreaded "Oh shit?" Toss the 3 wood in the water to follow it? ("I never liked that club anyways.")
Nah, I laughed. I figured it was an 80 cent loss - but I got to walk to the lake, see my reflection ("hmmm.. a tad wider than in past years Victor" - bite me).. And there I saw more reflection, God's reflections. Gorgeous trees. Blue sky, birds flittering by. The sun that had pitted me out (Sorry, kinda, just trying to give a real look).. splendor. All splendor.
On my way to 'the drop area' to place another ball - I found someone's errant shot, mostly covered up by the grass in the rough. I oould see a 'smiley face' on the ball... grasping it, I turned it over to read the imprinted label - "Life is good."
I reflect, that it is... that it is.
I met a pretty cool dude, same age, out walking the golf course like me (which is fancy for "I love this game, but damn it's expensive, maybe I'll get a cart next time.") My excuse is "I HAVEN'T planned well" -> KIDS: do as I say, not as I do, put away 10% of everything you earn and NO TOUCHY until your ear hairs sprout... His take, "I traveled, played in a band (mostly for cash) all my life.. thus, I've got a very measly Social Security," he continued "I got remarried 7 years ago, never ever played golf before, but her 84 yr old father kept begging me and begging me to play.. so I gave in, and now I'm addicted to it in a very good way."
I've seen him now several times at the course.. I've never had the heart to ask about his father inlaw - but it makes me reflect, makes me thankful for every damn stroke of golf I'm afforded to take.
Life affords a lotta bogeys.. mixes some pars in for good measure.. some dreaded double bogeys, and the very rare eagle. I started to whack the "Life is good" moniker ball, then thought better - tucked it in my golf bag. It's now in my 'change tray' where I also keep my wallet and my car keys, ie, front and center to see daily. A reminder to reflect on the past "Life is good", and into the future, cheer up you sourpuss, "Life is good", you're making your reflection into the future.
Peace out, hit 'em down the middle, or not.
Love, Victurd
I am particularly fond of the words reflect and reflection.
As I age, night driving, the reflection of other's headlights drives me crazy. It makes me wanna toss my keys aside to never drive again, then I remember "why, it was just a few years ago I/we ran the 600 yard dash in school." That's a joke son.
Reflection in the mirror proves interesting. Back in the flat belly days, I used 100 Watt incandescent bulbs in the bathroom. You could see a pimple before that sucker ever sprouted. The light didn't bug my eyes and the skin was as glassy as a big lake before the damn boats got on the water.
Thirtysomething, I'm blaming children for droopy eyes, thus, switched to 80 watt.
Fortysomething, taking that first wipe across the face after shaving yielded seeing small 'creeks' of shaving cream - to hell with that, gimme 60 watt.
Uh huh, eventually 40 watt, to the tune of "holy crap, is that really me in there?"
Then, big mistake, everyone else is buying LED bulbs, I might as well too. I dunno why, but ear hairs on men stay in the lobes for years, the baby ear hairs begging to surface, the mommy/daddy ear hairs saying "NO, he ain't sixty yet.. go watch TV, play on your tablet.. we ain't coming out until he hits 60, THEN, katy bar the lobe. And they have, thus, the LED - and that too is fancy for it's getting harder and harder to hit the damn toilet when I pee at this age.
"The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection." Thomas Paine
Enough about mirrors. Well, that's not true - one more. Due to recent tragic passings, I think it should be said "no matter how badly that reflection looks, be it physical, mental, yada - THERE IS BEAUTY IN THAT MIRROR. You are of value - no matter how you think you might not be. Stay. Seek help. Seek friends, they're aplenty. Share of your struggle - ya just might find someone who says "me too, let's work thru this together."
"Beauty is not about who you are on the outside, it is the wisdom and time you give away to save another struggling soul like you." Shannon L. Alder.
As I often do, I took a spin around town after breakfast out this morning. Ah reflection. I do feel fairly lucky to have lived in this 'small town' for as long as I have - as you can hardly go anywhere without something conjuring up a memory of yesteryear. This morning it was the old High School, the City Park, Franklin, topped off by two trips around the farmer's market on the square. Yes, two. That has nothing to do with the lady with simply gorgeous raven hair I caught a glimpse of the first time around. Ok, maybe just a tad.
"I'm a reflection of the community." Tupac Shakur
But ya know, reflection comes in many varieties.. The Military brat - how lucky are you to remember the various places, dialects, friends.. No, you can't take a Sunday drive to see all - but, ten minutes on your back in bed can take you there in a flash. If you've moved a few times, it may be hard to reflect on 'home', but all that have come before - make up who you are now - so, memories, reflections aplenty.
Reflection = past tense. Hold the phone there Gertrude - what we do today reflects on tomorrow. I've heard once or twice, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. Hold your damn head up Victor, don't be the poor poor pitiful me today, for your reflection tomorrow will liken Lonesome George.
So, later, as I teed up my El Cheapo Golf ball (purchased on Amazon $8.94 + tax for a dozen, free shipping, two days from my laptop to my mailbox) I made sure it was the exact height for it to head 200+ yards ahead to land softly mid-fairway. I swung, it went. It went 100 yards South, then made an immediate 100 yard turn East, only to plop into the large pond adjoining hole #1. Splish splash it was taking a bath. Shout out the dreaded "Oh shit?" Toss the 3 wood in the water to follow it? ("I never liked that club anyways.")
Nah, I laughed. I figured it was an 80 cent loss - but I got to walk to the lake, see my reflection ("hmmm.. a tad wider than in past years Victor" - bite me).. And there I saw more reflection, God's reflections. Gorgeous trees. Blue sky, birds flittering by. The sun that had pitted me out (Sorry, kinda, just trying to give a real look).. splendor. All splendor.
On my way to 'the drop area' to place another ball - I found someone's errant shot, mostly covered up by the grass in the rough. I oould see a 'smiley face' on the ball... grasping it, I turned it over to read the imprinted label - "Life is good."
I reflect, that it is... that it is.
I met a pretty cool dude, same age, out walking the golf course like me (which is fancy for "I love this game, but damn it's expensive, maybe I'll get a cart next time.") My excuse is "I HAVEN'T planned well" -> KIDS: do as I say, not as I do, put away 10% of everything you earn and NO TOUCHY until your ear hairs sprout... His take, "I traveled, played in a band (mostly for cash) all my life.. thus, I've got a very measly Social Security," he continued "I got remarried 7 years ago, never ever played golf before, but her 84 yr old father kept begging me and begging me to play.. so I gave in, and now I'm addicted to it in a very good way."
I've seen him now several times at the course.. I've never had the heart to ask about his father inlaw - but it makes me reflect, makes me thankful for every damn stroke of golf I'm afforded to take.
Life affords a lotta bogeys.. mixes some pars in for good measure.. some dreaded double bogeys, and the very rare eagle. I started to whack the "Life is good" moniker ball, then thought better - tucked it in my golf bag. It's now in my 'change tray' where I also keep my wallet and my car keys, ie, front and center to see daily. A reminder to reflect on the past "Life is good", and into the future, cheer up you sourpuss, "Life is good", you're making your reflection into the future.
Peace out, hit 'em down the middle, or not.
Love, Victurd
Thursday, June 07, 2018
Rubik solved......
I ain't so sure that's the answer.....
From it's prototype in 1974, Erno Rubik went on to apply for a patent for the puzzle in 1975...
Living in Hungary - he had a difficult time finding a manufacturer due to the rigid planned economy of Hungary at the time... Eventually found a small company willing to help.. originally called 'Magic Cube'...
Then, licensed to Ideal Toys, a US Brand in 1979, it was rebranded and let loose to an International audience as 'Rubik's Cube' in 1980. You know the rest.
My take though, it's much more fun, and prettier when it's 'tangled' - the colors runneth together.
'Solving' lends a color on each side - thought as perfection - but it's separation, and that's what's messed up in our world. We need color intermixed. Religions, intermixed and respectful to each. Folks, this country, that country - retaining the good ideals of forefathers, and obliterating hatrid for someone who lives elsewhere, perhaps 'different' than 'us'.
Left right, left right, left right, hup two three four. Yep, it takes both - and I hope we can exist respectfully, side by side into the future. Victor, that's a mouthful for someone who just posted a "Bologna Sandwich" meme of our President. Yes, yes I did - again, my take, he's totally contrare to all of the above. Long said "I can live under a Republican leader - just not this one."
Who knows answers. MLK's 'love not hate' is a really good start - now we must behave it. I feel the heat of an old friend coming, "Victor, you talk out of both sides of your mouth," again maybe he's right, but, I think enough 'ugly' has surfaced (with great frequency), change there would help. Animosity is at it's highest pitch in a very long time - and that's not 'great'.
She's come undone
She didn't know what she was headed for
And when I found what she was headed for
It was too late
She's come undone
She found a mountain that was far too high
And when she found out she couldn't fly
It was too late
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
She wanted truth, but all she got was lies
Came the time to realize
And it was too late
She's come undone
She didn't know what she was headed for
And when I found what she was headed for
Mama, it was too late
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
No-na-na, no-na-na, no-na-na
Too many mountains and not enough stairs to climb
Too many churches and not enough truth
Too many people and not enough eyes to see
Too many lives to lead and not enough time
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
Doe-doe-doe-doe-doe, doe, un-doe-doe-doe, un-doe-doe-doe
Doe doe-doe-doe-doe, un-doe-doe-doe, doe-doe-doe
Doe doe-doe-doe, doe, doe-doe-doe, doe, doe
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
She didn't know what she was headed for
And when I found what she was headed for
It was too late
She's come undone
She found a mountain that was far too high
And when she found out she couldn't fly
Mama, it was too late
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
No, no-no-no-no-no, no
Doe, doe, doe-doe
No, no it ain't. One person, one color, one Religion, one Country, one affiliation at a time.
Stop the Cube from being solved... meshed color, Religion, Country, Affiliation is Heaven on Earth. If only we had the fob to jump start it.
The original Rubik's cube has six colors - nine of each. Maybe it should be manufactured 'solved' - and the goal would be to see how quickly one could get it 'fixed' so that each color touched another color.
Victor, you should stay the hell outta political stuff.. Eh, mebbe, but I like to dream, just like MLK. Political status quo is far from our only problem.
From it's prototype in 1974, Erno Rubik went on to apply for a patent for the puzzle in 1975...
Living in Hungary - he had a difficult time finding a manufacturer due to the rigid planned economy of Hungary at the time... Eventually found a small company willing to help.. originally called 'Magic Cube'...
Then, licensed to Ideal Toys, a US Brand in 1979, it was rebranded and let loose to an International audience as 'Rubik's Cube' in 1980. You know the rest.
My take though, it's much more fun, and prettier when it's 'tangled' - the colors runneth together.
'Solving' lends a color on each side - thought as perfection - but it's separation, and that's what's messed up in our world. We need color intermixed. Religions, intermixed and respectful to each. Folks, this country, that country - retaining the good ideals of forefathers, and obliterating hatrid for someone who lives elsewhere, perhaps 'different' than 'us'.
Left right, left right, left right, hup two three four. Yep, it takes both - and I hope we can exist respectfully, side by side into the future. Victor, that's a mouthful for someone who just posted a "Bologna Sandwich" meme of our President. Yes, yes I did - again, my take, he's totally contrare to all of the above. Long said "I can live under a Republican leader - just not this one."
Who knows answers. MLK's 'love not hate' is a really good start - now we must behave it. I feel the heat of an old friend coming, "Victor, you talk out of both sides of your mouth," again maybe he's right, but, I think enough 'ugly' has surfaced (with great frequency), change there would help. Animosity is at it's highest pitch in a very long time - and that's not 'great'.
She's come undone
She didn't know what she was headed for
And when I found what she was headed for
It was too late
She's come undone
She found a mountain that was far too high
And when she found out she couldn't fly
It was too late
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
She wanted truth, but all she got was lies
Came the time to realize
And it was too late
She's come undone
She didn't know what she was headed for
And when I found what she was headed for
Mama, it was too late
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
No-na-na, no-na-na, no-na-na
Too many mountains and not enough stairs to climb
Too many churches and not enough truth
Too many people and not enough eyes to see
Too many lives to lead and not enough time
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
Doe-doe-doe-doe-doe, doe, un-doe-doe-doe, un-doe-doe-doe
Doe doe-doe-doe-doe, un-doe-doe-doe, doe-doe-doe
Doe doe-doe-doe, doe, doe-doe-doe, doe, doe
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
She didn't know what she was headed for
And when I found what she was headed for
It was too late
She's come undone
She found a mountain that was far too high
And when she found out she couldn't fly
Mama, it was too late
It's too late
She's gone too far
She's lost the sun
She's come undone
No, no-no-no-no-no, no
Doe, doe, doe-doe
No, no it ain't. One person, one color, one Religion, one Country, one affiliation at a time.
Stop the Cube from being solved... meshed color, Religion, Country, Affiliation is Heaven on Earth. If only we had the fob to jump start it.
The original Rubik's cube has six colors - nine of each. Maybe it should be manufactured 'solved' - and the goal would be to see how quickly one could get it 'fixed' so that each color touched another color.
Victor, you should stay the hell outta political stuff.. Eh, mebbe, but I like to dream, just like MLK. Political status quo is far from our only problem.
Monday, June 04, 2018
Double D and balls....
Ahm, this has mostly been a PG rated blog. Victor, are you sinking to the lowest of lows and doing a blog on porn?
Nope. Double D has nothing (in this instance) to do with boobs - and please don't get your tits in the ringer over that.
Double D is my cousin, since 1955. He's also my fraternity brother, and, the proverbial "Nicest guy ever."
Sorry, kinda, to expose DD, but, were my sister here she might offer (With a smile).. "nanny nanny boo boo, stick your head in blog doo."
OK Victor, we've got the DD part... whatsup with the balls?
We ain't talking Lucille.. we ain't talking that reasonably crazy man from LA with the basketball playing sons.. We ain't talking Cinderella and the lost slipper.. and not foot, basket, tennis, base, soft, golf balls.. well OK, maybe soft.. read on:
He'd texted me a picture of a billboard from 2012 in Fulton, MO (Double Damn, that completely does in his anonymity) along with the verbiage "If you run out of ideas.. I'd like your take about this." The billboard was an advertisement for the 19th Annual Testicle Festival in downtown Olean, MO.
My first take was "It's always fun when things kinda rhyme" and you're nuts if you believe that because of course my first take was "WHAT? A TESTICLE FESTIVAL?"
Wiki relates "A testicle festival is an event held at several small towns in which the featured activity is the consumption of animal testicles, usually battered and fried." The oldest of such is in Byron, Illinois - and there are annual fests in Michigan, California, Ohio, Oklahoma, Idaho - and of course Olean, Missouri where, damn daddy, it just happened (June 2nd, 2018).
"In English, testicles are known by a wide variety of euphemisms, including "stones", "prairie oysters", "mountain oysters", and so on. Lamb testicles are often called "lamb fries" or simply fries." OK, wide variety doesn't cut it for me, more: rocks, nuts, cookies, biscuits, cobblers, goolies, testis.. and finally, in college, our intramural football team was known as the nads.. our sorority friends would gather in the bleachers cheering us on with "GO NADS!"
I literally have THE MOST QUEESY stomach EVER, and I could never partake. With one hand over my eyes, I squinted as I read the types of edible testicles to learn 'calves, lambs, roosters, turkeys' and there are probably more, but (Victor, don't say it) I didn't have the balls to look.
I am very pleased to learn these festivals didn't come to fore until AFTER the sailing of Noah's Ark.
Saddened to learn Montana scrapped their festival due to some very sad events (including deaths from alcohol related driving).. One article stated "But throughout it's 'storied' 35-year history, Testicle Festival has become less about the testicles and more about debauchery, drunkedness, and roughhousing. I'm not sure what outsiders would consider the typical testicle enthusiast to be, but picture 10,000 Sturgis rejects enjoying copious amounts of alcohol." I'm sorry to have read that, 'cause I was gonna ask if anyone had been to one of these festivals, but now you might be dubiously labeled a drunken Sturgis reject.
Harry Carey might rollover in his grave if he were to hear the opening ceremony and the singing of "Take me out to the ball game" of this ilk.
They could have one at Christmas "I yust go nuts at Christmas." Or, maybe time it to where the sun and the moon appear almost side by side during the New Moon phase. Of course it oughta be held on the 2nd day of the month.
Suggested Host City event places: Ballplay, AL.. Blue Ball, AR... Balls Ferry, GA... Balltown, IA... Sac Bay, MI... Big Sag, MT... Nutley, NJ.. Butternuts, NY... Ballville, OH.. and of course Muncie, IN.. HUH? Yeah, Muncie, home to Ball State University.
Theme song? But of course, Great Balls of Fire..
In closing, stolen from the internet:
"Joe was a successful lawyer, but as he aged he was increasingly hampered by incredible headaches. When his career and love life started to suffer, he sought medical help....
"The good news is I can cure your headaches.. the bad news is it will require castration.. you have a very rare condition which causes your testicles to press up against the base of your spine and the pressure creates one hell of a headache.. the only way to relieve the pressure is castration....
"Shocked, he ultimately deemed he had no choice but to comply... went under the knife.. left the hospital without a headache for the first time in 20 years..
"Decided to make a new beginning, live a new life - saw a men's clothing store, walked in, "I'd like to get a new suit."
"Tailor eyed him, said "Let's see, 42 long." Yes, how'd you know? "Been in the business 60 years".. And I'd like a new shirt.. "Let see, sleeves, 34", and 16 and a half neck".. Wow! Yes! "Been in the business 60 years" the tailor replied.
"Shoes.. "Let's see, 10 and 1/2 E".. YES! Of course, "Been in the business 60 years."
"Howabout some new underwear now?" Sure Joe said.. "Let's see," the salesman stepped back and said "Size 36." Joe laughed, "Ah ha, I got you! I've worn size 34 since I was 18 years old!" The salesman shook his head "You can't wear a size 34, it will press your testicles against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache."
WOW Victor, two blogs in one day, and this one was quite disgusting!
Hey, don't be testi, and it was Darrell's idea! (Oops)... And regarding 2nd blog, yes, I guess that makes it a pair.
I can think of no catchy ending, a new blog year has begun, and the ball has dropped.
By Henry Gibson...
And, love, Victurd
(You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant, exceptin' Alice)
Nope. Double D has nothing (in this instance) to do with boobs - and please don't get your tits in the ringer over that.
Double D is my cousin, since 1955. He's also my fraternity brother, and, the proverbial "Nicest guy ever."
Sorry, kinda, to expose DD, but, were my sister here she might offer (With a smile).. "nanny nanny boo boo, stick your head in blog doo."
OK Victor, we've got the DD part... whatsup with the balls?
We ain't talking Lucille.. we ain't talking that reasonably crazy man from LA with the basketball playing sons.. We ain't talking Cinderella and the lost slipper.. and not foot, basket, tennis, base, soft, golf balls.. well OK, maybe soft.. read on:
He'd texted me a picture of a billboard from 2012 in Fulton, MO (Double Damn, that completely does in his anonymity) along with the verbiage "If you run out of ideas.. I'd like your take about this." The billboard was an advertisement for the 19th Annual Testicle Festival in downtown Olean, MO.
My first take was "It's always fun when things kinda rhyme" and you're nuts if you believe that because of course my first take was "WHAT? A TESTICLE FESTIVAL?"
Wiki relates "A testicle festival is an event held at several small towns in which the featured activity is the consumption of animal testicles, usually battered and fried." The oldest of such is in Byron, Illinois - and there are annual fests in Michigan, California, Ohio, Oklahoma, Idaho - and of course Olean, Missouri where, damn daddy, it just happened (June 2nd, 2018).
"In English, testicles are known by a wide variety of euphemisms, including "stones", "prairie oysters", "mountain oysters", and so on. Lamb testicles are often called "lamb fries" or simply fries." OK, wide variety doesn't cut it for me, more: rocks, nuts, cookies, biscuits, cobblers, goolies, testis.. and finally, in college, our intramural football team was known as the nads.. our sorority friends would gather in the bleachers cheering us on with "GO NADS!"
I literally have THE MOST QUEESY stomach EVER, and I could never partake. With one hand over my eyes, I squinted as I read the types of edible testicles to learn 'calves, lambs, roosters, turkeys' and there are probably more, but (Victor, don't say it) I didn't have the balls to look.
I am very pleased to learn these festivals didn't come to fore until AFTER the sailing of Noah's Ark.
Saddened to learn Montana scrapped their festival due to some very sad events (including deaths from alcohol related driving).. One article stated "But throughout it's 'storied' 35-year history, Testicle Festival has become less about the testicles and more about debauchery, drunkedness, and roughhousing. I'm not sure what outsiders would consider the typical testicle enthusiast to be, but picture 10,000 Sturgis rejects enjoying copious amounts of alcohol." I'm sorry to have read that, 'cause I was gonna ask if anyone had been to one of these festivals, but now you might be dubiously labeled a drunken Sturgis reject.
Harry Carey might rollover in his grave if he were to hear the opening ceremony and the singing of "Take me out to the ball game" of this ilk.
They could have one at Christmas "I yust go nuts at Christmas." Or, maybe time it to where the sun and the moon appear almost side by side during the New Moon phase. Of course it oughta be held on the 2nd day of the month.
Suggested Host City event places: Ballplay, AL.. Blue Ball, AR... Balls Ferry, GA... Balltown, IA... Sac Bay, MI... Big Sag, MT... Nutley, NJ.. Butternuts, NY... Ballville, OH.. and of course Muncie, IN.. HUH? Yeah, Muncie, home to Ball State University.
Theme song? But of course, Great Balls of Fire..
In closing, stolen from the internet:
"Joe was a successful lawyer, but as he aged he was increasingly hampered by incredible headaches. When his career and love life started to suffer, he sought medical help....
"The good news is I can cure your headaches.. the bad news is it will require castration.. you have a very rare condition which causes your testicles to press up against the base of your spine and the pressure creates one hell of a headache.. the only way to relieve the pressure is castration....
"Shocked, he ultimately deemed he had no choice but to comply... went under the knife.. left the hospital without a headache for the first time in 20 years..
"Decided to make a new beginning, live a new life - saw a men's clothing store, walked in, "I'd like to get a new suit."
"Tailor eyed him, said "Let's see, 42 long." Yes, how'd you know? "Been in the business 60 years".. And I'd like a new shirt.. "Let see, sleeves, 34", and 16 and a half neck".. Wow! Yes! "Been in the business 60 years" the tailor replied.
"Shoes.. "Let's see, 10 and 1/2 E".. YES! Of course, "Been in the business 60 years."
"Howabout some new underwear now?" Sure Joe said.. "Let's see," the salesman stepped back and said "Size 36." Joe laughed, "Ah ha, I got you! I've worn size 34 since I was 18 years old!" The salesman shook his head "You can't wear a size 34, it will press your testicles against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache."
WOW Victor, two blogs in one day, and this one was quite disgusting!
Hey, don't be testi, and it was Darrell's idea! (Oops)... And regarding 2nd blog, yes, I guess that makes it a pair.
I can think of no catchy ending, a new blog year has begun, and the ball has dropped.
By Henry Gibson...
And, love, Victurd
(You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant, exceptin' Alice)
Follow the yellow ball road.......
I get bored pretty easy. A goal is to write, to suggest, to try to help (me, more later). I wear Google out sometimes trying to find ammo for what I wanna write - I TRY to seek accuracy, ideas, light, 'a way', guidance (to me), yada. I kinda feel an obligation (to myself) to remind me frequently "life ain't so damn bad" - and, to hopefully draw an occasional smile from a passerby.
Then, I get bored. This morning I wanted to write a blog on round peg, square hole... dare to be different.. It's ok to not go with the flow. I Googled them all - got bored, got lost, tossed everything from my brain I'd read right into the wastebasket - and like that first time tippy toeing to the end of the pool diving board, I deducted, "here I go, what the hey, bar the door Katy." Forget trying to say, write what others have written.
History has shown me there are a lot of very, very nice people in this world and thankfully I've had a good share of them come across this blog - and have said some very nice things. Some also, have disagreed - and I cherish their thoughts, ideas, wisdom as well. The very highest compliment I've received is when a buddy said "sometimes, you write things we sometimes think, but won't/don't say." I did backflips for three days, and that's pretty amazing because my once - kinda fit body - ain't so much these days.
The intended message - it's ok to be different. It's ok to challenge. It's ok to speak up if you see indignity placed upon another. I dunno about you, but I can count many, many times in life where I've walked away thinking "Damnit, why didn't I say something?"
No more. Screw pigeonholes.
Golf tournament yesterday.. First hole. Our gathered group was surveying the labels on our golf balls so we could distinguish "whose was whose" when found in the fairway, in the rough, in the woods. I was still in the cart, the three others were on the tee, holding their shiny white golf balls, and the conversation went "Titleist 3 here."... "I'm using a Callaway 2." "Bridgestone 4." All eyeballs were then placed upon me. I held up my bright yellow golf ball to show them.
Sure, lotta reasons I used yellow. One, I'm old, it's easier to see, distinguish. Two, I'm a tightass. I found them on Amazon, a dozen for $8.94 + tax from wherever their warehouse is to my front door in two days. And finally three, color me yellow with grumpiness, consternation, odd, offbeat, I-really-don't-care-if-you-feel-it-must-be-done-that-way-"BECAUSE"-that's-the-way-it's-always-been-done, I kinda enjoy being different.
Age has made me that way. Poor examples have made me that way. Good examples have made me that way. Woeful personal mistakes have made me that way. Wonderful 'feel goods' have made me that way.
"Victor, I can't believe you blog. Even worse, I can't believe you then post it on Facebook."
Frankly my dear...........
I love my friend's frequent postings of the gorgeousness of Alaska. I miss my (my he rest in peace) good friend's astronomy pictures. I love my friend's daily Bible quote. I love my Texas buddy's self deprecation memes. I love my middle-of-nowhere-in-Kansas friend's fun posts (but, stick my tongue out at her when she gets political!) They're different postings, they don't/didn't care, they hit the yellow golf ball.
After golf, we gathered at our watering hole. Back entrance is an open air entrance from the outdoors where folks must squeeze in to enter. We sat right by that door. A good friend, fellow golfer, greeted every single person that entered, the majority he'd never seen in his lifetime. Some, high fives, some, fist bumps, some, he hugged, all, he met with smile. That's not what a lot of us would do. Some of us are wallflowers, content to sit in the background. Some like the front row, but don't speak up. My buddy didn't care - he's not afraid to be a vocal/physical fan of all people - he used the yellow golf ball. (Of course we teased him about a future position at WalMart, but damn him, he met that with a smile too. I loved it.)
I love the videos of kid's dance routines where ALL eyeballs are on that one kid. You know, the one with the pep in his/her step. The one with the extra moves. The one bouncing, gettin' down to their own beat. The one that was surely thinking "I don't care what my classmates are doing, I am gonna boogy down and have me some fun while the gettin's good." That one.
"Better to be a nerd than one of the herd!" Mandy Hale.
I love the person who demonstrates the watoosies to stand up in a crowded shopping center, begins to sing as the very first person of a flash mob.
"The person who follows the crowd will usually go no futher than the crowd. The person who walks alone is likely to find himself in places no one has ever seen before." Albert Einstein.
I love the way Jesper Parnevik (Senior PGA golfer) wears the bill of his hat UP, not the regular way. I miss Payne Stewart's (PGA golfer, died in a plane crash at age 42) flamboyant attire of ivy caps, patterned pants, which were a cross between plus fours and knickerbockers.
I will never forget the wonderful 'kid' (early 20-something) who was working at the bowling alley, offered everyone who came up to the counter(from me the old fart, to the 3 foot kid) a smile, kindness, and a thirst for customer service - yes, he had those things in his ears that look like dog bones, ouch, yowzer, "not for me", but hey, daring to be different is/can be wonderful.
Again, I'm still working on getting to like the present trend of "treble hooks" in the nostrils - but then again, just imagine two 'in bliss' getting their bling entwined - it may be THE NEW WAY to prevent divorce, who knows......
Please trust me, I ain't preaching. I hopefully don't do that - I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. It's ok to be different. Or not.
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference." Robert Frost.
Onea my favorites "You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been a child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything." Henry David Thoreau
Being different subjects one to bullying, public scorn, biting - harsh verbal barrages - sometimes sending one home thinking "should I simply stop, try to fit in? Will it make life easier?"... Please reinforce, it's ok to be different.
"Why?" Why not?" "Not me." "No thanks." All, music to the ears.
"We must never be afraid to be a sign of contradiction for the world." Mother Teresa.
Go. Go hit the yellow ball. Or the pink one. Or the shiny white one with a graphic of Alfred E. Newman on it. Or, choose not to hit the ball, that's all good as well.
"Kites rise high against the wind, not with it." Winston Churchil.
Ya know, if someone tells you to "Go fly a kite", mebbe it ain't such a bad idea.
Love, Victurd.
Then, I get bored. This morning I wanted to write a blog on round peg, square hole... dare to be different.. It's ok to not go with the flow. I Googled them all - got bored, got lost, tossed everything from my brain I'd read right into the wastebasket - and like that first time tippy toeing to the end of the pool diving board, I deducted, "here I go, what the hey, bar the door Katy." Forget trying to say, write what others have written.
History has shown me there are a lot of very, very nice people in this world and thankfully I've had a good share of them come across this blog - and have said some very nice things. Some also, have disagreed - and I cherish their thoughts, ideas, wisdom as well. The very highest compliment I've received is when a buddy said "sometimes, you write things we sometimes think, but won't/don't say." I did backflips for three days, and that's pretty amazing because my once - kinda fit body - ain't so much these days.
The intended message - it's ok to be different. It's ok to challenge. It's ok to speak up if you see indignity placed upon another. I dunno about you, but I can count many, many times in life where I've walked away thinking "Damnit, why didn't I say something?"
No more. Screw pigeonholes.
Golf tournament yesterday.. First hole. Our gathered group was surveying the labels on our golf balls so we could distinguish "whose was whose" when found in the fairway, in the rough, in the woods. I was still in the cart, the three others were on the tee, holding their shiny white golf balls, and the conversation went "Titleist 3 here."... "I'm using a Callaway 2." "Bridgestone 4." All eyeballs were then placed upon me. I held up my bright yellow golf ball to show them.
Sure, lotta reasons I used yellow. One, I'm old, it's easier to see, distinguish. Two, I'm a tightass. I found them on Amazon, a dozen for $8.94 + tax from wherever their warehouse is to my front door in two days. And finally three, color me yellow with grumpiness, consternation, odd, offbeat, I-really-don't-care-if-you-feel-it-must-be-done-that-way-"BECAUSE"-that's-the-way-it's-always-been-done, I kinda enjoy being different.
Age has made me that way. Poor examples have made me that way. Good examples have made me that way. Woeful personal mistakes have made me that way. Wonderful 'feel goods' have made me that way.
"Victor, I can't believe you blog. Even worse, I can't believe you then post it on Facebook."
Frankly my dear...........
I love my friend's frequent postings of the gorgeousness of Alaska. I miss my (my he rest in peace) good friend's astronomy pictures. I love my friend's daily Bible quote. I love my Texas buddy's self deprecation memes. I love my middle-of-nowhere-in-Kansas friend's fun posts (but, stick my tongue out at her when she gets political!) They're different postings, they don't/didn't care, they hit the yellow golf ball.
After golf, we gathered at our watering hole. Back entrance is an open air entrance from the outdoors where folks must squeeze in to enter. We sat right by that door. A good friend, fellow golfer, greeted every single person that entered, the majority he'd never seen in his lifetime. Some, high fives, some, fist bumps, some, he hugged, all, he met with smile. That's not what a lot of us would do. Some of us are wallflowers, content to sit in the background. Some like the front row, but don't speak up. My buddy didn't care - he's not afraid to be a vocal/physical fan of all people - he used the yellow golf ball. (Of course we teased him about a future position at WalMart, but damn him, he met that with a smile too. I loved it.)
I love the videos of kid's dance routines where ALL eyeballs are on that one kid. You know, the one with the pep in his/her step. The one with the extra moves. The one bouncing, gettin' down to their own beat. The one that was surely thinking "I don't care what my classmates are doing, I am gonna boogy down and have me some fun while the gettin's good." That one.
"Better to be a nerd than one of the herd!" Mandy Hale.
I love the person who demonstrates the watoosies to stand up in a crowded shopping center, begins to sing as the very first person of a flash mob.
"The person who follows the crowd will usually go no futher than the crowd. The person who walks alone is likely to find himself in places no one has ever seen before." Albert Einstein.
I love the way Jesper Parnevik (Senior PGA golfer) wears the bill of his hat UP, not the regular way. I miss Payne Stewart's (PGA golfer, died in a plane crash at age 42) flamboyant attire of ivy caps, patterned pants, which were a cross between plus fours and knickerbockers.
I will never forget the wonderful 'kid' (early 20-something) who was working at the bowling alley, offered everyone who came up to the counter(from me the old fart, to the 3 foot kid) a smile, kindness, and a thirst for customer service - yes, he had those things in his ears that look like dog bones, ouch, yowzer, "not for me", but hey, daring to be different is/can be wonderful.
Again, I'm still working on getting to like the present trend of "treble hooks" in the nostrils - but then again, just imagine two 'in bliss' getting their bling entwined - it may be THE NEW WAY to prevent divorce, who knows......
Please trust me, I ain't preaching. I hopefully don't do that - I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. It's ok to be different. Or not.
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference." Robert Frost.
Onea my favorites "You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been a child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything." Henry David Thoreau
Being different subjects one to bullying, public scorn, biting - harsh verbal barrages - sometimes sending one home thinking "should I simply stop, try to fit in? Will it make life easier?"... Please reinforce, it's ok to be different.
"Why?" Why not?" "Not me." "No thanks." All, music to the ears.
"We must never be afraid to be a sign of contradiction for the world." Mother Teresa.
Go. Go hit the yellow ball. Or the pink one. Or the shiny white one with a graphic of Alfred E. Newman on it. Or, choose not to hit the ball, that's all good as well.
"Kites rise high against the wind, not with it." Winston Churchil.
Ya know, if someone tells you to "Go fly a kite", mebbe it ain't such a bad idea.
Love, Victurd.
Sunday, June 03, 2018
Things that go bump in the night......
"If a bullfrog had wings, it wouldn't bump his behind every time he hopped." Don King
Bumped into an old friend at the Piggly Wiggly the other day........ (Several stories there)...
One.. You might bump into someone you recognized, but they hadn't the foggiest idea whointhehell you were. Reminds me of the story of the lady who saw an old HS classmate - was kinda alarmed by how much he had aged... so much in fact, that she for the longest time she hesitated to walk up and say anything to him.. finally she did... "Bob? Do you remember me from High School?"... "No, what'd you teach?"
Two... Someone bumps into you.. They know, smile, praise, hug you, and you haven't the foggiest idea whointhehell they were. (Kinda gives one an idea to run up to someone you don't know and do the same thing - rendering them headscratching. Maybe ranking number 2 in grocery store fun behind putting random items in someone else's cart unbeknownst to them.)
Three.. true friends bumped into one another who recognize one another, catch up for a long time - making you forget half the things you came into buy so ya gotta go back.
Four.... Two people you don't know bumped into/recognize one another... They stand in aisle 7, gabbing quite loudly, there ain't room for Olive Oil to sneak around/past/between them... you wait, you listen, you're bored, you're in a hurry. For every one second we wait, they say it seems like three. They obviously don't care you're trying to get thru - they are engrossed in their yesteryear meet up. As you finally say "Could you excuse me?" your brain is thinking WOULD YOU GET THE HELL OUTTA THE WAY I JUST WANT A CAN OF CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP!
We, the seventh grade boys at Ridgeview long ago - remember seeing bumps on the gals who were a foot taller than us. Amazing how, by the time high school rolled around, some had even made a mountain out of a mole hill. Victor, you are a pig. Sorry. Kinda.
"Know your lines and don't bump into the furniture." Spencer Tracy.
Goosebumps. They made RL Stine enough money he once landed at #36 on Forbes list of best paid at $41 million.
What gives you goosebumps? I remember Jaws... Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte.. Cold.. A flash mob. And long ago, HS girls who'd made mountains outta mole hills. Sorry. Again. Kinda.
The medical term for goose bumps is horripilation. I'm not making any correlation of horripilation and those HS girls from back in the day.
Toddlers. They bump, they get up, they go. Fun to watch. Well, not fun to see 'em bump - but fun to see them learn, grow - life's beginning lesson of "There's bumps in the road no matter what you drive."
"Speed bumps, I was thinking, you're driving along, everything's OK, and then there's a speed bump to go, 'Slow down'. Go over it real slowly and you hit the pedal, and you keep going, and I just thought it was kind of a nice metaphor for life." Teri Garr
Had an uncle - he drove doting parents crazy as each/every time he cradled an infant to walk from room to room, he would always (purposely) bump his elbow on the door facing. Was actually kinda fun to see - if it wasn't your kid.
Wiki (Google's dad and Encyclopedia Britannica's son) tells us about the dance, 'The Bump'.. "The bump is a type of dance introduced in the 1970's. Two partners, generally one male and one female, bump their hips against each other to the beat of the song. Sometimes the dance can be more suggestive, with the female dancer bumping her hip against the male dancer's crotch area."
Ouch.
Bump - airline booting you off.
Baby bump. Bump against. Bump along. Bump and grind. Bump and run. Razor bumps. Bump that! Let's bump this place! Fist bump.
From The Trolley Song (Meet me in St. Louis) "bump, bump, bump went the brake, thump, thump, thump went my heartstrings."
Bump start. Bumper crop. Bumper sticker.
"I can't bump any more but I can manage a sedate wiggle providing it doesn't go on too long." Anon.
On you go. You get bumped down, get up again. Don't be a bump on the log. Do go bump in the night (from what I remember, it's fun.) Don't make mountains outta mole hills as one day they will turn into a plateau. (I thought it was funny anyways.)
Happy bump day,
Love, Victurd
Bumped into an old friend at the Piggly Wiggly the other day........ (Several stories there)...
One.. You might bump into someone you recognized, but they hadn't the foggiest idea whointhehell you were. Reminds me of the story of the lady who saw an old HS classmate - was kinda alarmed by how much he had aged... so much in fact, that she for the longest time she hesitated to walk up and say anything to him.. finally she did... "Bob? Do you remember me from High School?"... "No, what'd you teach?"
Two... Someone bumps into you.. They know, smile, praise, hug you, and you haven't the foggiest idea whointhehell they were. (Kinda gives one an idea to run up to someone you don't know and do the same thing - rendering them headscratching. Maybe ranking number 2 in grocery store fun behind putting random items in someone else's cart unbeknownst to them.)
Three.. true friends bumped into one another who recognize one another, catch up for a long time - making you forget half the things you came into buy so ya gotta go back.
Four.... Two people you don't know bumped into/recognize one another... They stand in aisle 7, gabbing quite loudly, there ain't room for Olive Oil to sneak around/past/between them... you wait, you listen, you're bored, you're in a hurry. For every one second we wait, they say it seems like three. They obviously don't care you're trying to get thru - they are engrossed in their yesteryear meet up. As you finally say "Could you excuse me?" your brain is thinking WOULD YOU GET THE HELL OUTTA THE WAY I JUST WANT A CAN OF CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP!
We, the seventh grade boys at Ridgeview long ago - remember seeing bumps on the gals who were a foot taller than us. Amazing how, by the time high school rolled around, some had even made a mountain out of a mole hill. Victor, you are a pig. Sorry. Kinda.
"Know your lines and don't bump into the furniture." Spencer Tracy.
Goosebumps. They made RL Stine enough money he once landed at #36 on Forbes list of best paid at $41 million.
What gives you goosebumps? I remember Jaws... Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte.. Cold.. A flash mob. And long ago, HS girls who'd made mountains outta mole hills. Sorry. Again. Kinda.
The medical term for goose bumps is horripilation. I'm not making any correlation of horripilation and those HS girls from back in the day.
Toddlers. They bump, they get up, they go. Fun to watch. Well, not fun to see 'em bump - but fun to see them learn, grow - life's beginning lesson of "There's bumps in the road no matter what you drive."
"Speed bumps, I was thinking, you're driving along, everything's OK, and then there's a speed bump to go, 'Slow down'. Go over it real slowly and you hit the pedal, and you keep going, and I just thought it was kind of a nice metaphor for life." Teri Garr
Had an uncle - he drove doting parents crazy as each/every time he cradled an infant to walk from room to room, he would always (purposely) bump his elbow on the door facing. Was actually kinda fun to see - if it wasn't your kid.
Wiki (Google's dad and Encyclopedia Britannica's son) tells us about the dance, 'The Bump'.. "The bump is a type of dance introduced in the 1970's. Two partners, generally one male and one female, bump their hips against each other to the beat of the song. Sometimes the dance can be more suggestive, with the female dancer bumping her hip against the male dancer's crotch area."
Ouch.
Bump - airline booting you off.
Baby bump. Bump against. Bump along. Bump and grind. Bump and run. Razor bumps. Bump that! Let's bump this place! Fist bump.
From The Trolley Song (Meet me in St. Louis) "bump, bump, bump went the brake, thump, thump, thump went my heartstrings."
Bump start. Bumper crop. Bumper sticker.
"I can't bump any more but I can manage a sedate wiggle providing it doesn't go on too long." Anon.
On you go. You get bumped down, get up again. Don't be a bump on the log. Do go bump in the night (from what I remember, it's fun.) Don't make mountains outta mole hills as one day they will turn into a plateau. (I thought it was funny anyways.)
Happy bump day,
Love, Victurd
Saturday, June 02, 2018
Yeah butt......
(Trust me, I know this is stupid, really goofy.. some days you just simply need a break from the real news of the world - light works. Butterflies (and butt blogs) are free. If you no likey, all good, butt thanks for your patience with me.)
There’s butt joint, buttstock, head butt, buttocks, cigarette butt, Boston butt, port butt, archery butt…
Square butts, V-Shape butts, A-Shape butts, Round butts, Upside-down heart butts…
Bubble butts, no butts, skinny butts, bony butts, pancake butts…
There’s a belfie.. Booty.. Bum, buttaholic, butt cheeks, butt cleavage, butt dimples, derriere, donk, glutes, mooning, plumber’s crack, twerking, wedgie…
Lotta butt stuff.
Many, MANY men are enthralled by women’s butts.
Now just a gol’ durn minute, many, MANY women are enthralled by men’s butts.
Butt dialing.
Why do doctors slap babies butts right after they are born? To knock the penises off the smart ones. (har har)…
Why did Little Ms Muffett push Humpty Dumpty off the wall? Because she wanted to see his crack.
Did you hear about the constipated mathematician? He worked it out with a pencil.
Do clown farts smell funny?
A little old man who’s hard of hearing goes to see the doctor. As he can’t hear well, he takes his wife with him. The doctor examines the man and then says “Hmmm, I think we need to take a stool sample, a urine sample and a sperm sample.” The old man turns to his wife and says “What did he say?”.. Wife replies “He said he wants your underwear.”
Butt of a joke… butt-hurt…
My dad used to sing “She’s got freckles on her but(t?) she’s pretty”…
Quick research Google says “The 9 best butt exercises”, “The best 24 moves to target your glutes”, “Trainers reveal: The best butt exercises of all time”, “14 of the best butt exercises you can do without a gym membership”, “9 best butt exercises for a strong, shapely booty”…
Backside, rear-end, posterior, heinie, keister, rump, tail-end, apple bottom, arse, tush, seat, fanny, dumper (sorry), cheeks, bum, duff, gluteus maximus, patootie, britches……
All hail Ryan McLatchy.. Who? Ryan McLatchy, the inventor of yoga pants. Sorry. Not really.
“I’ve been faithfully going to the gym for months.” Wow! Kudos. A “new you?”, “Fortitude found?”…………. Nope, spandex.
This has been PG rated. (Positive Glutes).. Trust me, friggin’ Google has a very dirty mind for it could have been a lot, lot, worse. I wonder if Siri, Alexa, Echo Dot, yada, are equally perverted?
So tell me.. Did you simply wake up and think “Today I’m going to do a blog about butts?”….
Yes, butt I tried thinking of other things to write about - honest I did.
Why do ducks have feathers? To cover their butt-quack.
Best selling book: “Sliding Down the Banister” by Major Arssore.
Under the Bleachers by Seymour Butts.
Borrowing from my buddy Forest, “That’s about it.”
And away go troubles down the drain.
The end, pun, mebbe intended.
Love, Victurd
There’s butt joint, buttstock, head butt, buttocks, cigarette butt, Boston butt, port butt, archery butt…
Square butts, V-Shape butts, A-Shape butts, Round butts, Upside-down heart butts…
Bubble butts, no butts, skinny butts, bony butts, pancake butts…
There’s a belfie.. Booty.. Bum, buttaholic, butt cheeks, butt cleavage, butt dimples, derriere, donk, glutes, mooning, plumber’s crack, twerking, wedgie…
Lotta butt stuff.
Many, MANY men are enthralled by women’s butts.
Now just a gol’ durn minute, many, MANY women are enthralled by men’s butts.
Butt dialing.
Why do doctors slap babies butts right after they are born? To knock the penises off the smart ones. (har har)…
Why did Little Ms Muffett push Humpty Dumpty off the wall? Because she wanted to see his crack.
Did you hear about the constipated mathematician? He worked it out with a pencil.
Do clown farts smell funny?
A little old man who’s hard of hearing goes to see the doctor. As he can’t hear well, he takes his wife with him. The doctor examines the man and then says “Hmmm, I think we need to take a stool sample, a urine sample and a sperm sample.” The old man turns to his wife and says “What did he say?”.. Wife replies “He said he wants your underwear.”
Butt of a joke… butt-hurt…
My dad used to sing “She’s got freckles on her but(t?) she’s pretty”…
Quick research Google says “The 9 best butt exercises”, “The best 24 moves to target your glutes”, “Trainers reveal: The best butt exercises of all time”, “14 of the best butt exercises you can do without a gym membership”, “9 best butt exercises for a strong, shapely booty”…
Backside, rear-end, posterior, heinie, keister, rump, tail-end, apple bottom, arse, tush, seat, fanny, dumper (sorry), cheeks, bum, duff, gluteus maximus, patootie, britches……
All hail Ryan McLatchy.. Who? Ryan McLatchy, the inventor of yoga pants. Sorry. Not really.
“I’ve been faithfully going to the gym for months.” Wow! Kudos. A “new you?”, “Fortitude found?”…………. Nope, spandex.
This has been PG rated. (Positive Glutes).. Trust me, friggin’ Google has a very dirty mind for it could have been a lot, lot, worse. I wonder if Siri, Alexa, Echo Dot, yada, are equally perverted?
So tell me.. Did you simply wake up and think “Today I’m going to do a blog about butts?”….
Yes, butt I tried thinking of other things to write about - honest I did.
Why do ducks have feathers? To cover their butt-quack.
Best selling book: “Sliding Down the Banister” by Major Arssore.
Under the Bleachers by Seymour Butts.
Borrowing from my buddy Forest, “That’s about it.”
And away go troubles down the drain.
The end, pun, mebbe intended.
Love, Victurd
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