June 4, 2010 “Walmart…”
Another late night trip to Walmart…I really should know better. There was quite a line, both in number, and gross tonnage. The one on the right, with NOTHING in her cart, is running interference for another one that is somewhere off to the right rummaging or grazing about for, what turned out to be, Diet Pepsi! That’s right, DIET Pepsi…and a bushel bag of Doritos!
This is my life.
Just Say’n
NaBloPoMo: March 17, 2010 “St Patrick’s Day Limerick”
NaBloPoMo: March 4, 2010 “Surfing”
NaBloPoMo: March 3, 2010 “Adventurer”
March 3, 2010
I’m watching HDNET on TV. High definition! Austin Stevens Adventures; never heard of Austin Stevens. Austin Powers…Austin, Texas…Steve Austin? Yes! Austin Stevens? No! Just think of any of the many Austral-British, khaki clad with the cool Safari shirt “outdoorsmen” that seem to be running around all over the tropical regions of the planet with a video camera, an expensive wristwatch and a death wish; looking in earnest for any animal that can kill them with a single bite just so they can get down and crawl around on the ground or climb up into a tree or onto a precarious rock outcropping to get close enough to the nasty beastie to kiss it square on the ass, and all the while trying to add drama by saying things like “Crikey!” or “He’s a nasty little bugger!” or “Blimey!”. Got the picture? Me too…and all in High Def 16X9 Widescreen Format! The problem is, I’ve seen it all before…over and over and over! Short pants, long pants, some of them are gray haired and some are blonde, some are skinny and some are not, however, they all have one thing in common, that whole death wish for video thing and I’m sick of it for god’s sake! By the way, Austin just climbed a tree to catch a snake, blimey!
Just Say’n
NaBloPoMo: March 2, 2010 “Hockey”
March 2, 2010
Day two of posting on my humble blog for the NaBloPoMo…National Blog Posting Month.
Yesterday, March 1, 2010 was the final day of the 2010 Winter Olympics. The USA played Canada in the gold medal match for Hockey…the USA lost. I didn’t watch the entire match because all I know about hockey is: ice, stick, puck, skate, net, goalie, and fights. I only watch hockey for two weeks every four years. I have no clue what is going on out on the ice. I do not know the first thing about the rules. However, the game is very exciting and during those two weeks of the Winter Olympic Games I become a fan. Yesterday I began watching, but it got too raucous for me…while I was watching hockey I was killing another bird by reinstalling Windows on my laptop. I found I needed more concentration for that than the hockey game allowed so I switched the channel over to the big NASCAR race; after all, all they do is drive around in a oval to the left. From time to time I would sneak a peek at the hockey game, but I found the race much more conducive to a good install of Windows. I’m not what I would call a NASCAR fan although I do watch the races from time to time. I guess you could say I’m a fan by association; practically everyone I know or work with is a fan, so I need to kinda keep up with it a little. This brings me to my point today; I’m getting sick of Jimmy Johnson! I’m just tired of seeing his scruffy-bearded face in the winner’s circle every dang week it seems. I have some drivers that I just don’t like (Jimmy is not one of them), but I find myself pulling for any of those guys to win instead of Jimmy Johnson! Isn’t there some kind of ruling body for NASCAR like, I don’t know…. the IOC is for the Olympics. Something must be done! Jimmy Johnson MUST have an unfair advantage! Maybe someone in his family invented auto racing and that’s why he seems entitled to win! Just like those damned Canadians 
… and their HOCKEY !!!!
Just Say’n
Mowing the Yard or “The Green Horde”
Mowing the Yard
Because of Main Battle Unit equipment failure I find myself surrounded by my arch enemy, the dreaded…Green Horde! And they are emboldened by the recent rains. I fear the worst is inevitable…the camp will be overrun by the little green bastards! WAR IS HELL!
As the sun strolled over the eastern horizon the day dawned with a glimmer of hope. My battlement was repaired but untested. The enemy, I knew, was dug in and proven in battle to be tenacious. I, alone with my single war implement, stood at the verge of the day’s arena. I beheld my enemy gloriously arrayed on the field of battle in verdant splendor, a fantastic and formidable foe!
The lust for victory was overwhelming. Driven by primitive forces I stepped onto the bloody plain and was compelled to join the fray. My war machine thundered as I threw myself headlong into the center ranks of the enemy. The Green line faltered as I charged in, but they showed their warrior fibre and quickly regrouped. I was undaunted and fearlessly fought step by step blade to blade against the Horde.
Slowly the tide began to turn as I and my machine mowed down line after line of the fearsome enemy. One on one they were no match for me, but en masse they were a force to be reckoned with. And as they marshaled their numbers in thickening swarms my progress was slowed, but never stopped! I battled the Green Horde there under the mid-day sun until exhausted and battle worn I vanquished the last remnant of the teeming scourge. The fallen corpses of my enemy lay at my feet to be trodden under and sent back to the earth from whence they came. What had been, only moments before, a melee of tumult and chaos was now a silent relic of the carnage and horror of war. I had taken the day, the battle was mine. I gathered my weapon and somberly retired from the field. It will be an ephemeral victory.
Bored Talk : Volume 9 “Life, simile put…”
Bored Talk : Volume 9
Life, simile put…
We can live in a home that’s as big as a house.
We can sleep like a baby and be quiet as a mouse.
We can be flat as a flitter, straight as an arrow, or crooked as a dogs hind leg.
Tough as nails and as hard as a rock or blue as a Robin’s egg
Poor as Job’s turkey or as rich as a king. Life, it seems, is a simile thing.
We can sit right through it like a knot on a log, be as right as rain or as sick as a dog.
Let a sleeping dog lie while we lie like rugs
Stay cool as a cucumbers and snug as bugs.
We can have an eye like an eagle or be blind as a bat.
Be slower than molasses in winter or as quick as a cat.
We can float like a feather or sink like a stone.
Be wetter than water or dry as a bone.
We can be pretty as a picture or as ugly as sin.
Duller than dishwater or neat as a pin.
Blacker than tar or white as a sheet.
Green as a gourd and red as a pickled beet.
We can be happy as a clam or a lark, or a pig in shit.
Cold as a well digger’s ass and sometimes a witch’s tit.
It gets hotter than hades or maybe forty hells.
That’s clear as crystal and that’s as clear as a bell.
We get mad as a hornet then calm as a monk.
Sober as a judge or as drunk as a skunk.
Empty as a pocket but full as a tic.
Fat as a hog and thin as a toothpick.
My fingers are get’n prickly as a pear
I’m as stiff as a board and hungry as a bear.
This simile poem has run it’s course.
So I’m off to the kitchen to eat like a horse.
Just say’n
Bored Talk : Volume 7 “Over The Hill…?”
Bored Talk : Volume 7
Over The Hill…?
As I sit here in the wee hours of my forty-seventh circumnavigation of the sun I am perplexed and somewhat annoyed. Forty-six years of joy and pain, struggle and satisfaction, loss and gain, feast and famine, and to what end? I find myself in the ides of my life considering what things may come in this second leg of my excursion.
Alas, I am waxing philosophical and contemplative and that is not my intention!
They ( only THEY know who THEY are ) always say that around the age of 40 or so you are over the hill. Exactly which hill are they talking about? I didn’t even know I was climbing a hill! Actually life seemed pretty easy up to this point. Back in the day I went off to sleep easily and slept soundly for six to eight hours. I used to just get up in the morning and bound out of bed ready to tackle the world and take the tiger by the tail! I didn’t have to think about the best way to roll to the side of the bed to get the best departure angle for my back’s sake. There was never a second thought given to standing up after rising to the sitting position at the side of my bed in the morning. I never used to waddle like a duck for the first three or four steps in the morning until my back straitened and relaxed. Hair used to grow on my head instead of in my ears…and in my nose…and on my back…and heck, ON my ears ( what’s up with that? ). I make noises now that I only heard my Grandfather and old people make when I was a little kid…grunts and groans and weird breathing sounds! My joints ache, oh, they make noises too. My feet hurt. I hate shoes that tie. I find that I have to make a plan when I have to bend over and retrieve something from the floor, can’t just reach down and pick it up. I have these little gremlin pains and twinges that just occur in places and parts of my body that I didn’t even know were there. I am twice the man I was when I graduated High School, literally! I used to run races that went for 6 miles. Now, I dread walking to the mail box.
I am not at the top of the hill coasting down the other side. Absolutely Not! If there is a hill involved at all…I am at the bottom of it! I have spent the first half of my allotted time cruising along at a comfortable pace. And now, I find myself at the bottom of a very steep hill. I have a long hard climb in front of me to get out of here…
Over The Hill?…MY SAGGY, OLD, ACHY, SORE ASS!… OVER THE HILL?! …FOLKS, IT’S ALL UP HILL FROM HERE ON OUT!
HAPPY *&*^$%@! BIRTHDAY TO ME !
Just say’n
Bored Talk : Volume 2 “Wagons…”
Wagons…
I used to never drink soft drinks, well, hardly ever, but then, I fell off the wagon. I don’t recall getting on the wagon, I guess it was the “Water Only” wagon, I don’t know. But, I started treating myself to a Pepsi from time to time and for that I lost my seat on the “No Soft Drink/Water Only” wagon. I suppose the others on the wagon said to one another “What happened to Tracy?” the answer was ” He fell off the wagon.” Let me make it clear, I didn’t “fall” anywhere, I disembarked voluntarily. Everyone always says “he or she fell off the wagon.” Therein lies the rub…
How did we get on these wagons? Where did the wagons come from? Who’s driving the wagons and where are they going? How many of these damned wagons are there anyway? These questions and many more I hope to answer with the help of my fellow facebookers and others.
There is a wagon for people who have quit smoking. They can ride along until they start smoking again and then they are deemed to have “fallen of the wagon”. Then what do they do…I don’t think there is a “Smoking” wagon. I’ve never heard of anyone falling off of the “Smoking” wagon when they decided to QUIT!, no, when you quit you get to ride a wagon! No one who starts smoking ever says, “Yeah, I got on the smoking wagon today” ! It’s not really fair, people who who have never smoked or who have always smoked have to walk everywhere because there’s no wagon for them to ride! …at least HALF of us have the lungs for walking.
There is a wagon for people who have quit drinking alcohol. This wagon is divided into sub-categories according to the kind of alcohol you have quit drinking .ie, Beer, Wine, Brown Liquor etc. You can climb on or fall off of these wagons one at a time or all at once. Again, there is no wagon for the proud drinker or for the non-drinker…they just have to walk.
Where do you go when you get on one of these wagons? What do you do? Do you ride around all day talking with your wagon mates about the good old days when you used to do the thing that you quit doing? Do you look down from the wagon at the people that are still doing what you quit doing and those that never started doing it in the first place and think, poor s.o.b’s.?
Enough of this for now…I’m getting bored. Keep those comments and posts coming! I’ll write more in the future, if I don’t fall off the Writing Wagon.
I think I’ll have a Pepsi…just say’n.
What folks think...