Trivia 2010!

The Must Do Event Of The Season!!

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When the going gets weird

The weird turn pro...

If it is true that good things happen to good people, is it equally true that odd things happen to odd people? Cause I must say, things are getting weirder than a cheez-whiz and clam sandwich around here, ladies and germs...

Oh well, there's a weekend to deal with it. Time to shift in to serious "ponder" mode.

Nuttin' but a hound dog...

I'm watching a few furry friends for a couple of days, and took some photos at 6 this morning as they all did their dog-type thing....

Three to get ready, go cat go!

How much wine is too much? And should you whine about wine? Inquiring minds want to know!

Thoughts on drinking, some my own, some stolen, a joke..and anything else that crosses my mind on a Monday

Knowing when to say when is only important if the following is in play: If you're driving, if there is an early meeting the next day, or if you're in the company of someone who may be able to effect your livelihood.

Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl's clothes off

It takes only one drink to get me drunk. The trouble is, I can't remember if it's the thirteenth or the fourteenth

A joke, and one of my favorite stupid ones...
Three mice are sitting in a bar in a pretty rough neighborhood late at night trying to impress each other about how tough they are. The first mouse slams a shot of scotch, and pounds the shot glass to the bar, turns to the second mouse and says: "When I see a mousetrap, I get on it, lie on my back, and set it off with my foot. When the bar comes down, I catch it in my teeth, and then bench press it 100 times."

The second mouse orders up two shots of tequila. He grabs one in each paw, slams the shots, and pounds the glasses to the bar. He turns to the other mice and replies: "Yeah, well when I see rat poison, I collect as much as I can and take it home. In the morning, I grind it up into a powder and put it in my coffee so I get a good buzz going for the rest of the day."

The first mouse and the second mouse then turn to the third mouse. The third mouse lets out a long sigh and says to the first two, "I don't have time for this nonsense. I gotta go home and screw the cat."

Oh, anyone interested in a cattle dog mix? I still have the egg sucking dog...

Why is that?

So-why do dog's paws smell like Fritos? It's true...give Fido's foot a sniff!

Happy

A wonderful thing about Tiggers, a Tiggers a wonderful thing
Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of spring
They're bouncy trouncy flouncy flouncy, fun fun fun fun fun
the most wonderful thing about Tiggers...is I'm the only one

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm the only one!!

I have been accused of being a bit morose of late...that oughta nip that in the bud. Write one lousy post on the crushing of a human soul, and everyone's a critic. :-)

On a more cheerful note, my little fella Simon, is going to be coming home next weekend. His surgery has been deemed a rousing success, and all limitations have been removed, FIVE whole weeks ahead of schedule! He still has a lingering issue of concern, but at least I'll have him back with me. I don't like it when my boy's not around. Put bluntly, Simon rocks.

Speaking of dogs that rock, I'm getting a few visitors this week-my main man Winston and his homies Link and Finley are going to be staying for three days. If the weather heats up and the shedding escalates, I might have a new carpet for the floor by the time they set sail for home! Regardless, I hope to get some good photo ops with the crew, and will post up.

Just A Boy, Giving It All Away...A fable

The story starts as they do, once upon a time, in a world that now seems so long ago and far away, there was a young man. He was a prideful fellow, confident of his look and appeal to the ladies. In a word, he was a fool, as most young men are. This young man went through a period in his life in which he seemingly was right-the girls did like him! And so his ego grew. It became as immense as the greatest of the redwoods.

One evening, on a lark, this arrogant young knight decided to demonstrate his awe inspiring powers of romantic persuasion to a friend of his-yes, he boldly announced to his comrade, this night shall be great, I will now demonstrate the ease in which I can obtain a date.

I paid all my dues so I picked up my shoes,
I got up and walked away.
Oh, I was just a boy,
I didn't know how to play.

Worked hard and failed
now all I can say is
I threw it all away.
Oh, I was just a boy
giving it all away...

So, he decided that the nice young lady that he worked with, and who he saw was indeed closing the place of his employ that evening would be just fine. And by gum, within five minutes, she had phoned home to make sure that Mom and Dad would watch her daughter, and had agreed to accompany the young buck to the party. Pride being a hungry beast, it swallowed a little more of his decency, as he bathed in his own perceived glory.

That evening, he tried any manner of persuasion to separate the young woman from various articles of her clothing, but ah-ah-ah. She was wiser than he thought. No simple conquest for our warrior, but instead something he found far more intriguing. An intelligent, thinking woman, one easily his equal in raw intellect, and vastly his superior in experience and worldliness.

sail away, sail away,
ooh, I know better now, I know better now
giving it all away

ooh, I know better now, I know better now
I've given it all away...

Went out in the world too much for my nerves
only myself to blame.
oh, I was just a boy
nobody else to blame...

And so it began-the self involved, ego-maniacal young man, learning at the knee (and it must be said, other parts) of the kind, humored, slightly older woman. The truth is, she was a mere three years older, but the gap might as well have been decades. Verses of Maggie Mae wafted in and out of his life through the seasons, as she taught him a lifetime of experiences, and how to give and feel, and indeed to love.

And then it ended as quickly as it had begun. The boy cried, for truthfully that's all he was, he didn't understand why it all went away, nor how the love he had learned to give no longer mattered, and he still really doesn't today. But by God, he's trying

I've done all I can, now it's out of my hands
stand on my head and say
oh, I was just a boy
giving it all away...

sail away, sail away,
ooh, I know better now, I know better now
giving it all away

ooh, I know better now, I know better now
ain't gonna give it all away...

The end.

Nowhere Man

Ok, so I go by the folks house today. Why is it always so shocking to see pictures of yourself from (mumble mumble) years ago? I don't feel like I look different...oh well, better get my prune juice and head for bed.

Dylan, of sorts

Not that Dylan, THIS Dylan

Don't know why this occurs to me, but it's been gnawing at the back of the brain all evening.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And as long as I'm being a cheerful bastard, how about a little Adonais from Shelley?

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep,
He hath awaken'd from the dream of life;
'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings. We decay
Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
Convulse us and consume us day by day,
And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

Gift From A Flower To A Garden

So in my continuing gardening efforts, I now have an injury to report. The ev-hul bugaboo is back to bite me. Seem to have rolled the ankle for @*^@'nth time in the last ten years. Ice, anti-inflammatories, and a wrap, hopefully it'll be a go for the morning. If not, it's elevation time and a day off I didn't want to take. Oh well, it was bound to happen, if not today, the first time I mow the hill in the front yard. Moan, moan, grumble, grumble....

Dirty Old Egg Sucking Dog

I do foster work for a rescue...and I currently have a very friendly, extraordinarily nice cattle dog mix. She truly is a lovely dog, but sadly, I think she was sent to this earth to torment me.

Tonight's episode: She usually sleeps in her crate, with little or no problem. Actually that isn't fair. She sleeps in her crate with NO problem. Tonight, I have no idea why, she decides to whine about it. I listen to it, and ignore it. And then I ignore it some more. Finally, like Popeye, I've had all I can stands, and I can't stands no more, so I let her out, and onto my bed. Not five minutes later, she decides, with no provocation I could discern, that she needs to leap over me. In the process of doing this, she lands on my CPAP machine's windpipe, gets tangled, and in her frenetic wiggles, BANG. Down goes my CPAP machine. And of course it isn't functioning now. *sigh* My sleep apnea thanks her, as it will now be able to rob me of hours of sleep until I can get the machine in on Monday...

Dead Flowers

There are those that would tell you a garden is a metaphor of life itself. You plant things, you tend to them, and you are rewarded for your hard work, and penalized when you fail to tend the garden properly. Sadly, even if you work hard, and do the right things, sometimes fate intervenes, and much like life, your garden fails, plants die or fail to bloom. Sometimes the weather is cruel, and your rose bushes get pounded into oblivion...

Well when you're sitting there
in your silk upholstered chair
talking to some rich folk that you know
well I hope you won't see me
in my ragged company
you know I never could be alone

I on the other hand, would tell you forget the metaphors, and remember this: gardening is unnecessary hard work. Just spent the late afternoon tending to the garden, and am reminded of why I never really did much with it before Jessica moved in. Namely, it is hard work, ultimately for a bunch of plants that I don't really care all that much about. But, because I know I have a responsibility to the neighborhood to make sure my house doesn't look like some sort of 3rd world nightmare, I'm out there, butt waving in the air, weeding the hell out of it. Hopefully the neighbors enjoy the spectacle.

Well when you're sitting back
in your rose pink Cadillac
making bets on Kentucky Derby day
I'll be in basement room
with a needle and a spoon
and another girl, to take my pain away

My goal this year is to get the front of the house done up entirely in perennials, thus reducing the need to plant year after year. Granted, the weeding will still need to be done, but if I can eliminate the planting itself, my inner slacker will be somewhat pleased. Tomorrow...the back fence area. I am gonna be one cranky mo-fo.

And you can, send me Dead Flowers every morning
Send me Dead Flowers by the US Mail
Say it with Dead Flowers at my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave

Hasten Down The Wind

This morning I am struck by just how good some of the old Linda Ronstadt LP's were. I got up early, and have been through Heart Like A Wheel, Simple Dreams, and Hasten Down The Wind. Say what you will about her politics, crack all the jokes you want about her weight, the woman could flat out sing, and she and Peter Asher made brilliant song selections. Throw in the fact that the cover for Hasten Down The Wind is just down right yummy, and it's been a fine morning!

Fixing A Hole

My little corgi went in for his surgery yesterday. Simon is a tough little bugger, I must say.
He's had dual perineal hernias since we rescued him from the street, and though we've treated it with diet for the last year plus, it had deteriorated to the point that it just couldn't go on. Anyway, from all accounts the surgery went very well, and he is on the road to recovery, which is 8 to 10 weeks. The Lovely Linda is currently keeping him, as he needs more attention than I can possibly give with work and all, plus she is a bit more seasoned in the whole dog surgical recovery process than I am. A big thank you to her, she's incredible.

Here's an observation: It normally takes me five to ten minutes to feed my dogs in the morning and afternoon, primarily because of Simon's food preparation. Now it takes me thirty seconds-this only serves as a reminder that my little buddy isn't here, and I miss him. For the last year, when I go to sleep, a small little fellow has gone to sleep right next to me on his own little pillow, and I miss that too. Little guy sleeps so hard, that you have to wake him up in the morning. None of that annoying dog stuff of trying to get you up at the crack of dawn with Simon. You give him a little shake, roll him over, and after a few yawns and stretches, he's ready to start his day. Definitely one of the more relaxed dogs on the planet.

Anyway, Simon has multiple supporters-never ceases to amaze me the appeal of that dog. I've had e-mails and texts and phone calls all inquiring as to his progress. It's heartwarming to know that a little fellow like him has the ability to make people care about something that ultimately has no impact on their day to day lives.

He's the best, and I love him dearly.

Chocovine, chock full of goodness

There are so many things wrong with the concept of mixing chocolate and red wine...yet, like peanut butter and jelly, it works. And when it works, you get your jollies much more than you do with PB & J. Delicious and intoxicating. Life is good.

Temporary, Like Achilles

What is it with the frailty of the human condition that continues to surprise me? Surely I should be beyond it by now, but I never cease to be amazed when I see relationships fall apart. Perhaps it's because there really are only two people in a relationship, regardless of outside appearances, but I never see it coming. The impermanence depresses me.

Over the last few months, I've heard of long term relationships falling apart over arguments about in-laws, over getting committed too early, over losing a "spark", too much sex, too little sex, too much time together, too little time together...what the hell are people looking for? Perfection isn't out there, but I certainly think love is.

As a veritable artiste when it comes to failed relationships, let me make the following observation-Love is NOT never having to say you're sorry. It is being able to say you're sorry and fucking well meaning it, and having a partner that understands that and forgives it. It is not having a burning passionate "spark", it is having a deep, warm glow. It isn't about being together every waking moment of the day, nor is it about being apart. It is about appreciating the time you get to spend with your life's soul mate. Even if they do get on your nerves occasionally. If you need some "me time" go mow the damned yard. And as easy as it is to say, love or the lack of it, isn't a damned thing to do with in-laws, or getting committed too early-it is true. Love is ignoring all the noise, and having the determination to recognize just what attracted you to that special person in the first place, and loving them warts and all.

Holy bat guano, I think I may just be an incurable romantic...