Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category
My last vacation of the summer has ended with the return of my better-half from her recent trip. She arrived late last night and fell into bed exhausted from all of the driving. She was wound pretty tight but dropped into a dead sleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow. I knew I was in for a blow-by-blow description of the entire trip as soon as I woke up in the morning. Boy was I ever right.
She was moving kind of slow in the morning but after a couple cups of good strong coffee she finally appeared almost human. I rolled out early myself to get my forty minutes on the treadmill out of the way. As I came upstairs from the workout she surprised me with a belated birthday gift and a promise of a steak dinner with all the trimmings later on. I honestly never expected that because I’m not a someone who’s a big birthday celebrator.
We started the day with a food shopping trip to refill the larders. It was a nice day with sunny skies and warm weather and we thoroughly enjoyed our time together. We made a visit to the local Walmart, purchased a little of everything, and then just wandered around for a while to people watch. It was then that I began thinking of the dinner she was planning and what I could contribute.
As you’re aware if you read this blog often enough you know I’m a amateur winemaker. When we arrived home I went directly to my wine cellar to find a wine to compliment that beautiful steak she was going to prepare. I’ve been told by many people that homemade fruit wines usually loose their flavor after being bottled for more than two years. I found a few bottles of a strawberry wine that I made in 2003. At the time that wine was excellent and laughingly became known as the dancing wine. If you drank more than two glasses you’d be overwhelmed with the desire to dance your ass off. After eleven years I wasn’t exactly sure what we’d find.
‘It Was a Very Good Year’
Upon returning home we moved to the deck for an hour of total relaxation slowly sipping on a glass of wine that smelled wonderful and tasted even better. Two glasses each and we were aglow. I was shocked at how good the wine still was after all of those years in the bottle. We decided to take a short break, fire up the grill, and prepare the food for dinner. The steak was cooked medium rare and melt-your-mouth tender. Aluminum foil wrapped vegetables from the garden finished the meal off rather nicely. It was then time for a second bottle which went down even easier than the first.
It was great birthday celebration that was totally unexpected and I can report officially that we both were pleased with the end result. I just love happy endings.
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It’s now the morning after and I have another tidbit of information to pass along. That freaking wine while having excellent taste also brings along with it a mind-numbing hangover. I truthfully think I’m gonna die. Even the good coffee that usually saves the day isn’t working worth a damn. I’ll end this posting now because I need a power nap and a few dozen extra strength Tylenols.
Don’t come to my impending funeral, you’ll be disappointed. Happy Birthday to me.
Well the better-half is finally on her way to Delaware. Her getting ready for a five day trip was much like the American soldiers preparing for D-Day. She packed everything except possibly a bazooka and c-rations. She spent five whole days packing for a five day trip which meant a minor crisis every hour or so for me to deal with. “Where’s this thing? Where’s that thing? Where did you put my recharger? My phone isn’t working properly, fix it! Why isn’t this GPS thingee working? It doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to.” Man, I’ll need at least five days of rest to recover from her packing.
This posting will be all over the place today. A little of this and a little of that. For instance, I’m always telling everyone how much I love living in Maine and thankfully I found something that will explain it clearly for you. We have an abundance of natural wonders here but it’s the people that keep me interested. We were riding around a few days ago and came upon what could be called the Mt. Rushmore of Maine. Check it out.
This is a perfect example of free thinking Americans voicing their opinion without fear of reprisals from the liberal left. I appreciate their sentiment as well as the perfect way in which it was displayed. Subtle but effective. Here are a couple of close-ups so you can read the signs a little easier.
‘More Obama Fans’
‘One of These Thrones is for Biden too!’
Now let’s talk freedom of expression and mailboxes. I created a photo book a few years ago with dozens of photo’s of unusual Maine mailboxes. The Fed’s have a whole list of requirements for people who install a mailbox. It must be so many inches high, so many inches from the road, and God forbid if it’s not an approved US Government design. They may threaten you with a vicious bureaucratic note if you don’t obey their rules which just scares the hell out of no one.
I also love those little threatening notes they occasionally drop in my box or attach to my door that informs me that they’ll stop delivering my mail unless I clear the snow and ice from my around my mailbox. It’s Maine for God’s sake. There are times when I can’t even find it to clear the snow away. It’s either buried under three feet of frozen concrete or the town’s snowplow has removed it from my property and dropped into the yard of a neighbor a few hundred yards away. The fact that it will be in five or six pieces doesn’t seem to concern them either. The citizens of Maine apparently didn’t get that important government memorandum on mailbox requirements and if they did, they ignored it. I continue to find many mailboxes which violate all of the rules of the USPS which just makes me smile. It’s just a simple and direct way for Mainer’s to throw the big middle finger to the Fed’s.
Freedom is everywhere in Maine as reflected by this sign at a local biker bar. It just isn’t necessary to make up an impressive and phony name for your band. Just call things exactly what they are. Who wouldn’t drive a few miles to hear this group perform and throw back a few drinks as well.
LET FREEDOM RING
This has been a week of rain then sunshine then rain and on and on and on. The humidity is constantly high and sleeping is a real challenge. It certainly limits my activities to hanging around the house and driving my better-half over the edge. It must be true because she tells me that at least twice a day. What to do, what to do. My only solution is to take my camera and go forth to play in the woods. Maybe it was time for a quick check of my favorite swamps to look in on the dragonfly situation. With this much humidity and heat there should be a large increase in their numbers (I hope). It’s a reasonably short drive so I loaded up my gear and took off.
I arrived at the sanctuary, parked the car, and stepped into the world of sweat bees, gnats, and those little mites that congregate around your head by the thousands. I used half a can of the strongest bug spray I could find and it was of little help.
It’s common practice here in Maine for the horse farmers to cover the eyes of their horses with netting to keep the bugs from driving the horses crazy. If it works for horses then why can’t it work for me. I reached into my bag of goodies and found some netting made specifically to be worn over a baseball cap and then tied tightly at the neck. It’s not a perfect solution but it will keep the gnats in the swamp out of my eyes and ears. The rest of my body is up for grabs but even those damn mosquitos and ticks have to eat too. Without a doubt I’ll be their lunch entrée.
On my way to the swamp I have to pass through a few acres of milkweed plants. They’re just coming into bloom and in a few short weeks will be covered with visiting Monarch butterflies. They love laying their eggs on the milkweed plants which contain a chemical that keeps predators from eating their eggs. I’ll be back in a few weeks for their arrival which promises a gang of excellent macro photographs.
I arrived in the swamp covered with swarms of bugs and discovered to my delight a reasonable number of dragonflies flitting around. I’ve found if you stand still in one place for a few minutes they tend to approach to check you out. These pictures were of a few that seemed to be purposely posing for me.
I lasted almost an hour but the bugs made staying any longer impossible. I’ll be better prepared on my next visit and hope to obtain more photos of dragonflies and damselflies. The variety of colors is absolutely amazing.
***WILDLIFE ALERT ***
(Sarcasm On) This Wildlife Alert arrived on my desk today from my better-half and I promised her I’d put out A BOTA (Be On the Lookout) alert for a herd of those terribly dangerous and ruthless gourd eating deer. She plans on hanging some sort of crazy noise-maker in the garden to scare them off. Truthfully we’ve had deer eat almost everything in the garden at one time or another but not a single one has ever munched on a gourd. She has a strange attraction for gourds which I still don’t understand. Maybe I’ll build a blind for her to sit in near the garden and she can jump out in the middle of the night to scare the crap out of them. I promise to get lots of pictures if she actually does it. (Sarcasm Off)
If I sound a little happy today there’s a good reason. I just dropped my better-half at the Portland Jetport (that’s Maine’s way of saying airport) and she’s winging her way to the left coast for a week of fun and frolic with her son. They have quite the trip planned that includes a drive to Las Vegas to see a few shows and lose a few dollars. As I ‘m writing this she should just be landing at O’Hare in Chicago. Then she’s off to LA LA land to enjoy the sunny weather, the warm ocean, and a host of diverse weirdo’s. She should be able to teach them a thing or two about what weirdness is really all about because she’s a pro.
“Remember honey, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
It’s a vacation for her but it’s also one for yours truly. A total week of no C&W music blaring throughout the house and no one constantly looking over my shoulder. Besides, just mentioning that little tidbit is sure to get a rise out of her. Just to make sure she doesn’t get too upset with my sarcasm I thought I should roam the Internet to collect a few expert opinions and quotations on vacationing separately.
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Taking time alone is a positive sign that the spouses are acknowledging and honoring each other’s careers and likes.
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Taking separate vacations enables a person to understand that spending too much time together may hurt any relationship. “A couple needs time apart as much as time together.”
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“What makes a relationship juicy and exciting are the different perspectives and experiences we bring to it. You need the separateness to appreciate the togetherness.”
In my humble opinion these quotations are almost word for word what I was thinking all along. I’m glad I found an expert or two who were able to word it just the way I was thinking it (sarcasm off).
I see a week of total relaxation. Also, this week will be clothing-optional around the house because I’m in total agreement with good old Benjamin Franklin who was an advocate of what he called "air baths". Amen to that Ben!
I plan on hitting the beach here in Maine a few times and should have quite the collection of photo’s to show for it.
“Remember honey, what happens in Maine also stays in Maine.” LOL
For now the cat and I will spend a great deal of time relaxing on the deck. I’ll be reading a book or two and he’ll be chasing the occasional bird or squirrel. He’s pretty lazy and will probably just end up napping the entire week away in any one of his numerous sleeping spots.
I may break out the margaritas one night and make some smoking hot tacos with a side of salsa or maybe even some kimchee. Eat and drink until I drop then climb into a hot bath with a glass of really good brandy. Now that’s what I call a vacation.
I’d like to keep writing but it’s the first night of my vacation and I want to relax and enjoy it. I may even dig into my bag of fireworks and wake up the damn neighbors in the wee hours of the morning. After all it’s Fourth of July week and I intend to celebrate that birthday all week.
FLY YOUR FLAG PROUDLY
&
HAVE FUN LOVEY
I’ll start off to day talking about consumerism. I didn’t realize just how much of a consumer I actually was until I began tracking my purchases and saving every receipt. I’ve been doing that for years now and every so often as I’m entering that end-of-month information into a spreadsheet I’m forced to admit my somewhat excessive consumer issues. Once each month I find myself standing next to a trash can filled with receipts and that has to tell me something.
That being said as I was reading yesterday I discovered that in comparison I might not be as bad as I first thought. I noticed that as bad as we American seem to be when it comes to crass consumerism the Japanese make us look like a bunch of amateurs. Here’s a collection of tidbits on the Japanese and their quirky approach to retailing and consumption.
“In Tokyo, Japan there are vending machines that dispense frozen meat, jewelry, and even dating information.”
“A company in Kyoto, Japan, makes waterproof books for students who like to study in the bath.”
“Kanebo, a cosmetic company in Japan, has developed a line of panty-hose that are embedded with vitamins and special scents that are released when worn.”
I know you thought I was kidding, right! Those crazy fun loving Japanese will merchandise and sell just about anything.
Next I’ll address a subject that has always fascinated me. Synchronicity! I’ve firmly believed for most of my life that there are no such things as coincidences. As a former extensively trained investigator it’s been proven time and time again to my satisfaction. Unfortunately there have been a few random times that "synchronicity" has reared it’s ugly head and I had no logical explanation.
Two days ago my better-half and I were taking a walk near our home when a passing motorist stopped to tell us about a large turtle she saw crossing the road. She was concerned it might be hit by a car and had turned around to check on it. I walked a short distance and found the turtle scrambling from the highway and helped him along in his travels to get off the road.
We returned to our house and I sat down at the computer to check on a few things on-line. On Facebook I found an entry from my step-daughters husband who was traveling for work and happened upon what else, a freaking turtle on the road. He posted a photograph of himself parked along a highway and assisting the rather large turtle to cross the road to avoid the dangers of oncoming traffic.
A synchronistic moment to be sure. I’ve had a few other startling incidents like this during my life for which I have no reasonable answers or explanations. Just saying.
Lastly, I finally finished the renovation of my wine-making area. I’d been wanting to complete this job for years and finally was able to get it done. It should make bottling and handling of my wine a much easier process than in the past.
That’s all I have for today but I thought I’d pass along a few tidbits of wisdom from Jeff Foxworthy. In the Army we called this process “Knowing Your Enemy”. If this offends anyone out there just remember I’m just doing my part in adding a little humor to a humorless situation. So get over it.
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Have you ever wondered why it’s OK to make jokes about Catholics, the Pope, Jews, Christians, the Irish, the Italians, the Polish, the Chinese, the French (including French Canadians) etc., but its insensitive to make jokes about Muslims? We need to level the playing field for the sake of political correctness . . .
Jeff Foxworthy on Muslims
1. If you refine heroin for a living, but you have a moral objection to liquor, you may be a Muslim.
2. If you own a $3,000 machine gun and a $5,000 rocket launcher, but you can’t afford shoes, you may be a Muslim.
3. If you have more wives than teeth, you may be a Muslim.
4. If you wipe your butt with your bare hand but consider bacon to be unclean, you may be a Muslim.
5. If you think vests come in two styles: Bullet-proof and suicide,you may be a Muslim
6. If you can’t think of anyone you haven’t declared jihad against,you may be a Muslim.
7. If you consider television dangerous but routinely carry explosives in your clothing, you may be a Muslim.
8. If you were amazed to discover that cell phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs, you may be a Muslim.
9. If you have nothing against women and think every man should own at least four, you may be a Muslim.
10. If you find this offensive and don’t forward it, you may be a Muslim.
THERE YOU HAVE IT!
People are strange. The things they do are strange, puzzling, amazing, and sometimes truly stupid. Today is just a day of musings and questions. There doesn’t seem to be logical answers for some of the things I see and hear every day.
I was shopping recently and discovered something odd and surprising. I found a rack of "duct tape" for sale in many and varied colors and patterns. There was some with tiger stripes and another covered with green shamrocks. Cool right? What’s the effing point?
My first reaction was why fancy duct tape?, and is it really "duct tape" or it is just "duck tape". I was always sure it was "duct tape" until I saw a recent TV commercial selling "Duck Tape". It looked the same as the good old standby stuff but it had a flashy and cool cartoon duck as it’s logo. So what do I ask for at Home Deport? Where do I find the Duck Tape? I’m then forced to deal with that stupid blank stare you get when one of their employees has no clue. Most people love duct tape and use it for damn near everything. But why? That leads me into my next unanswered question.
Have you ever skydived? Everyone knows that it’s one of those things that’s just so damn exciting and dangerous that everyone says they’d like to try it. I thought that at one time years ago and set out to try it myself. I spent a portion part of a day being trained on how to jump out of a plane. Stand in the door, look down, pee your pants , and jump . . . asshole. It wasn’t a college course but it was required by our local politicians and insurance companies before you do something stupid. That way everyone is protected if and when you hit the ground at full speed. I went up, jumped, came back down and rode an adrenaline high for hours. Just guess what the two things my memory has retained about that entire experience. The first thing was something I noticed as I climbed into one of the worst looking aircraft on earth. The entire interior surface of the plane was covered in duct tape (not duck tape). It looked like the pilot preferred using duct tape instead of doing regular maintenance. I thought at the time this was done specifically to help motivate idiots like me to jump out of that freaking death trap. It was apparently done so you didn’t snag anything like your chute as you moved to the open door to jump. Silly me.
The second thing that stuck with me was the young blond Scandinavian women with the tight purple skydiving outfit who was hanging around the airfield that day. After my extensive two hours of training she approached me with a business proposition. She offered to skydive with me wearing a camera helmet and to tape my entire jump from start to finish for only $150.00. She was extremely hot and I wanted to appear courageous so I signed up and gave her the cash. She slithered into the plane with us and sat across from me all smiles and moist hotness. During the flight to 14,0000 feet I fantasized about first doing the jump, surviving, and then possibly jumping her later. I knew I’d need help to drain away all of that excess adrenaline and she could certainly take care of that. That fantasy ended rather quickly when she cut the loudest and most disgusting fart I’ve ever heard, looked at me and smiled. Even the pilot of the little two seater turned around to see what all the noise was about. It took a few hours to get that stench out of my nostrils and it was just the additional motivation I needed to get the hell out that plane. She took a pretty good video of me on the way down and strutted away from the landing never to be seen again. Those are my two main memories of that day, duct tape (not duck tape) and blond bombshell farts. What a life.
My last inquiry into people calls into question their ability to recognize and identify when someone is feeding them a line of BS. As I’ve mentioned in the past, in another lifetime I was a state police officer in Pennsylvania. One of the downsides to being a rookie cop is being stuck with all of the crap traffic details the more senior officers don’t want to do. There’s a state park called Moraine Lake near Butler, Pennsylvania that is a huge tourist draw during the summer months. Unfortunately the only entrance and exit to the public beaches is from a nearby interstate highway. It became so congested at times on Saturdays that the backed up traffic would become a public hazard. This required a few of us rookies to spend our day standing in the hot sun telling citizens to keep moving because the beaches were full and there was no place to park. This required them to drive five additional miles to the next exit just so they could turn around and drive back for another try. There weren’t many happy folks after that and on a normal Saturday the station would receive hundreds of complaint calls from pissed off beach goers.
On one specific Saturday I was sent out to the park in mid afternoon after traffic had already been rerouted for hours. There was a veteran cop there which was unusual and he seemed to be in charge. I found out later he was there on a punishment detail for some infraction he’d committed a few days before. For the first time in history there were almost no complaint calls being received at the station. I found out why just after my arrival at the park. That veteran officer was telling each and every car that came by that "there were sharks found in the lake and the beaches were closed, keep moving please." Not one person questioned him or called the station to verify his story. The funniest thing was the rumor about lake sharks being mentioned in a local newspaper the next day. I was amazed then and still am.
That’s it….I just had to ask these question and I honestly never expected a reasonable answer to any of them.
In my last posting I was whining a little about not having much beach time here in good old tropical Maine. Being the bonehead I am and living with my boneheaded better-half we decided not to wait any longer to hit the beach. The snow had just melted and we were ready.
After a visit to one of our favorite watering-holes and after toasting a few glasses of cheer we made a bee line for the nearest beach. You need to understand that the temperature was in the forties with a twenty mile an hour wind making it feel like twenty degrees. Alcohol can do a lot of things but it doesn’t help a person stay warm and toasty on a windy beach in Maine in April. I was freezing my ass off almost immediately after leaving the car but the better-half was off to the races running around the beach like a German Shepard chasing a stick. We both were snapping pictures the entire time but that ended rather quickly.
It was then I spotted a herd of totally insane people running free and unfettered among us normal and sane folk. The waves were roaring in and these fools in their wonderfully uncool wet suits were trying to surf in water that was only just above freezing.. Surfing in Maine in April is like running naked through a nudist colony in February. It’s just nuts. I watched them for a while but was forced to return to my car so I could once again feel my fingers.
“Out of His Ever Loving Mind”
The better-half finally returned of her own volition all excited and happy about the entire evening. She coerced me into driving another few miles up the coast to our favorite beach. It hadn’t gotten any warmer and I argued loudly about getting out of the car at all. As usual she strong-armed me out of the car and down to the water. There we were once again watching another insane human being wind surfing like he was in Key West and it was August. Here are a couple of shots I took of that young idiot. I’ve been known to don a wet suit to frolic in semi-warm water occasionally but no matter what people tell you . . . . it’s still freaking cold with that suit on.
“Just Nuts”
We made our way home, turned up the heat, and discussed what mental illness could be responsible for such bizarre behavior, both ours and the surfers. We never figured it out but we really didn’t care anyway. We snuggled into our bed under our wonderfully warm and overused electric blanket that’s become the best thing about these Maine winters.
I consistently ask myself questions about the things I see. It’s not that I’m seeing these things that bothers me, it’s that I don’t entirely understand what I’m seeing. One of the things that confuses me the most are the situations I see developing these days between people and their cell phones.
I’ll try to explain clearly where I’m coming from in order to keep any confusion to a minimum. After being held hostage by Verizon Wireless for the last seven years I made the bold move of dumping their service and stepping back three or four technological paces to something far simpler and inexpensive. I won’t get into the particulars except to say I’ve cut my monthly costs by 70%. I don’t want you to think I hate cell phones because I don’t. What I do hate is the unhealthy hold those devices seem to have on such a large portion of our population.
Next, I need to state emphatically my total and complete support for both heterosexual and homosexual marriages. No, my mind isn’t wandering but hang in there a moment or two until I explain. I object strongly to the new wave of intimate relationships I’m observing between humans and cellphones. It’s becoming a little embarrassing to see these phones being cuddled and stroked by both men and women in public places. It’s a bit disgusting.
People buying their phones cutesy little bejeweled outfits in a variety of colored covers to keep things from getting too boring. Even the kids are getting into the act with little or no parental oversight. Sitting along in their rooms at night talking quietly on the phone, roaming the Internet until all hours of the morning, and posting "selfies" to the world that would in some cases make a porn star blush.
Those phones are coddled and babied and remain all snuggly in a pocket or purse held tightly next to the heart (or other body parts) of their owners. I know many women and even a few men who would like nothing better than to have a large device vibrating in their pocket. People just can’t seem to keep their hands off their phones and don’t even try. What’s next? The formation of political special interest groups to promote our freedom to marry our cellphones? Don’t laugh, as weird as things are these days, it could happen.
Cell phone ownership is becoming almost as intimate as a marriage. First you need to find that “soulmate” or should I say “cell-mate”. It must be attractive and shapely and have all of those attributes you’re looking for. Once you’ve found that perfect match then your required to enter into a contract for a two year period. Very similar to a marriage license if you ask me but with one additional advantage. When your cell-mate gets a little older, all scratched up, and the battery starts to fail you can dump it and sign up for an upgrade. If you dare decide to end the relationship before the contract is up your forced to pay and pay dearly for that right. Sounds just like a divorce I managed to survive twenty years ago.
I guess I just haven’t met my true "cell-mate" yet. I suppose it will happen all of a sudden like a lightning bolt and I’ll be lost forever in that wonderful haze of first love, sexting something juicy for the first time, or sending an HD photo of some of my body parts to people who don’t want to see them.
You just gotta love those cell-phones. Right Lovey.
Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away, I was one of those weird folks who loved to paint. Not artsy painting but bathrooms, bedrooms, and living rooms. For years I was on call for my entire family or anyone else who needed something painted. I never understood my fascination, I just went with it. I suppose today is as good a day as any to let the world know that that my love of painting is dead. DEAD I tell you!
Dumb Thing #1. I started a house project a few weeks ago that required I remove a rather large window from the living room and to put a blank wall in it’s place. It was all my idea in the initial planning stages but somewhere along the way it was hijacked by my better-half and turned into a freaking monster. The removal of the window was easy enough but doing it in March in Maine was a stupid plan. I had the entire house open to the cold weather for three hours until I could replace joists, put in insulation, and attached some vapor barriers.
Dumb Thing #2. I should have seen through her sneaky plan but it was winter, I was fat and lazy, and I said OK to almost anything she wanted. I thought I could zone her out just a little making me safe from her infamous To-Do list until warmer weather arrived.
Dumb Thing #3. The next thing I know I’m up to my ass in drywall, joint compound, and and breathing a dense cloud of gypsum dust. That shit gets into everything and one of my jobs was to make the big mess, complete the job, and then clean it all up. I finished the wall except for painting and sat down for a moment to rest and to cough up a few pounds of white dust. Five minutes later she arrives from Lowe’s with five gallons of assorted paints, brushes, drop cloths, rollers, and sparkle compound. I was quietly informed that now we (Me) had to repaint the entire living room and adjacent hallways. She was sick of the old color and since I’d removed that damn window it was only logical to redo the entire second floor.
Dumb Thing #4. I’m now in my third day of spackling, primering, painting, and putting masking tape on anything that doesn’t move. Help me please. I’m being held prisoner by a home improvement lunatic and I can’t seem to escape.
cli·ché
/kliˈʃeɪ, klɪ-/ [klee-shey, kli-] noun
1.a trite, stereotyped expression; a sentence or phrase, usually expressing a popular or common thought or idea, that has lost originality, ingenuity, and impact by long overuse, as sadder but wiser, or strong as an ox.
2.(in art, literature, drama, etc.) a trite or hackneyed plot, character development, use of color, musical expression, etc.
3.anything that has become trite or commonplace through overuse.
4.British Printing.
a. a stereotype or electrotype plate.
b. a reproduction made in a like manner.
adjective
5.trite; hackneyed; stereotyped; clichéd.
The word cliché comes from two origins:
- A sound – The French used the word to describe the sound that a matrix, or a mold with letters on it, made when it was being dropped into molten metal to make a printing plate.
- A printing plate – Oddly enough, the printing plate itself was called a cliché or a stereotype and it was one of the first movable types in the world.
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I like to stay ahead of the game and to be all things to all men but that’s easier said than done at times. I always try to hammer out things, leave no stone unturned, to give you a leg up on events and to dish the dirt religiously.
I love to punch the clock, push the envelope, and push people’s buttons whenever possible. I may pull someone’s leg but I’ll never pull any punches or leave you in the lurch. I’m the master of the left-handed compliment and I’ll do my level best to harp on a point and let the chips fall where they may.
I probably should quit while I’m ahead but I so enjoy pulling the rug out from under people who need it. I’ll let the cat out of the bag in a New York minute because it’s all in a day’s work here at Every Useless Thing.
I’ve seen the handwriting on the wall while pounding this Internet pavement and while I operate tongue-in-cheek I’ll touch all the bases, tilt at the appropriate windmills and draw a bead on whoever tickles my fancy.
I try to fair and balanced but sometimes it’s a tough row to hoe. It goes without saying that the Internet can be all things to all men but many people love playing fast and loose with the truth. It occasionally causes me to throw caution to the wind, find the liars and throw them under the bus.
With this posting I’m trying to determine if I could on a good day use clichés to make small talk and supply you with food for thought. Most days I operate off the top of my head scrounging around for nuggets of information to help me let off a little steam. To make a long story short, I’ll never hold my tongue. I’ll continue to call a spade a spade especially when I’m on the warpath about something. Don’t believe everything I say hook, line and sinker but if the shoe fits, wear it.
IT’S ALL IN A DAY’S WORK!
everyuselessthing.com 