The Bills lost today. Big deal, I lost ten dollars. Big deal, I like to bet. It's one of my bad habits. I like to think I'm right most of the time, I like to bet on it, and because I do bet and I have to pay when I lose, I realize that I'm only right half of the time.Although, sometimes I'm wrong six or seven time in a row.  That's just the law of nature. And even though I know that eventually things will even out, I still love to bet against it. Lucky streaks are just that...streaks. As are bad streaks too. So, don't worry man...be happy. Sage advice, or fuck you advice? Or, something in between like be wary advice. Did you ever get bad advice and then say to yourself damn I knew better....of course, only after you followed bad advice. Asking for advice is an art. It has to do with timing, and more importantly...it's about who you should ask. But that's not true for all questions. Although, I'm not even sure if that is true. 34 agree and 34 disagree. Where's my sister so I can kiss her. 44 agreed and 24 wondered about the relationship. Actually one of the 24 thought it was pretty gross. I think it was Johnny who was extremely grossed out by his Aunt Helen's wet sloppy kisses at Christmas time. Gimme a kiss. And there really are so many levels of kisses out there....right? Don't kiss me with that scratchy beard of yours....good night Pluto you lovely little puppy dog you..... give momma a kiss. Lick, lick, lick.  So let me finish tonight off with an old joke. Did you hear that Mickey Mouse is divorcing Minnie. Why's that? Because she's fucking Goofy. Thirty one percent of the people surveyed thought that Mickey should file for divorce, 31% thought Minnie was an object of abuse & neglect and 28% thought that they need more facts to make an educated decision, while 10%  were still undecided.

                                                                        

Don't you find it amusing that even though you may have such access to information, a lot of stuff you know and feel is not fully understood, and you would care to know more, but you're afraid to ask....or maybe a tad too shy....which is a lower form of fear.. And, even if you may be a bold one, do you ever feel that you should be braver in certain aspects of your life. I did, and sometimes, even now I feel that I should be more bold and less shy. Have you ever felt that you were too shy (or weak) to break the ice. Do you have an unfulfilled infatuation hanging out there somewhere. Or an anger that you would love to see come to fruition. Abeyance came to fruition not out of naught. Take note.... nota bene....n.b. Dominus regit me. The good lord your shepherd told you to suspend judgment. Examine your conscience. But, if you don't mind me being so bold, please don't ignore your gut. Suppose for a moment you're a guy who's infatuated with a gal who works as counter waitress at a local restaurant. You love to stop in there daily, not so much to eat, but just to see her. She takes your order when she's working your end and you tell her the same damn thing over and over again....two eggs over easy, rye toast & sausage. And then she asks, is the sausage links or patties sir. And then you think, this must be going no where...I would think by now she would know that I order links. And she's thinking: I know he wants links, I'm just waiting on the day where he'll be a little more bold and say something like: two eggs over easy, rye toast and sausage links & a full and open mouth kiss on these lips of mine. I like a guy to be in charge. Once again he's frustrated...and the next day he orders the same.

                                                    

Amen. Amen amen I say to you, if you are without sin you better cast the first stone. Afuckingamen. Amen. In the beginning was the word and it is the word without end. Amen. So, are you telling me that there's no such thing as getting the last word in. Yes, but it goes for the same thing as getting the last word out too. Hello, is anybody out there? The Titanic movie comes to mind. Floating in icy cold waters...help, help, help me. Under rubble, out of oozing hot lava ash, hanging on to a tree limb in mud slid land, gripping chunks of floating bodies, using the dead as life rafts....and then finally being saved by an outstretched hand...and then saying amen amen and living for another day. Thank you. You're welcome. Thank you for saying you're welcome. No problem....thank you for thanking me. You're welcome.

                

Small stopping and seeing. Now what? Continue to make small pauses and allow for the recognition of the concept of love to permeate your soul and then let it rule and pass. It seems so simple doesn't it. And I would imagine, if you did that ten thousand times within the course of a day, you might just have something there. Where? That's a good question...I'm glad you asked it. Why....because you already prepared an answer to my supposed question. Stop! Allow for the passage of a new train of thought....get unstuck please. Is this for you or me. It's for me, but for us too. & we three. And the crazy disaster of a lily pot that just fell off our counter top and smashed itself silly on the kitchen floor, and now it's a whole new story that may be continued if the passage of love will be allowed to fall into place as quickly as the lily pot hitting the floor. But now, after I got off my ass and helped a little bit in the cleaning up of the mess, I realized a lot. I got swept away  too.
  

I think I was made in the likeness of God. And I think this god must have liked vanilla ice cream because I do too. I don't hate much and I dislike some and tonight I wonder if this god that I know feels the same way I do. I petition this god daily mostly in gratitude, but every once and again I petition for some immediate pain relief. My god is both girl and guy. I like god in general the most...sexless and flat, like best friends at ages 7, 8 or 9. This is so weird, because I don't care for when people say I am that, even though one of my gods said the same thing. What arrogance. I mean, who the fuck are you to say that you are that. That is so broad. My god one time said this: I am this that is. And I thought, you be cool. I'm actually glad that my god doesn't speak to me. Even though I think it would be cool to have god talk to me, I don't  think I'd ever be ready for the voice of god. I want to know...does god whisper, or does god shout out demands or pithy statements that could assist me in my earthly travels. Take a left. Are your sure, I thought I had to turn right. It's up to you, turn right if you like, but as god, I'm telling you that left is really right. Yes, I think I agree...but it's only for the weak . Any day of the weak. I would say yes, but weak is an entirely different notion than week. I suppose. But I worry about supposition being weak too. Is that like in also. Maybe. Who just said that. Not me, I just said maybe. And who are you. Neither this or that. Yes and no too. Yeah, you is.

Well, it's true, we were talking about sex drugs and rock 'n' roll yesterday at mimi's house in Canada. But we only partook in lunch and lively conversation and left the groovy stuff lie dormant mostly in the back of our minds. I hinted a lot about making the afternoon more real, but mimi was talking about her 70 year old friend who wants to get next to her and Liza told me that she mostly digs on men with facial hair. Liza showed me a picture of her guru and I thought....it would take me another 30 years to grow a beard of that magnitude...I doubt that I'll live that long. Mimi told me that she was mad at a boy from way back in eighth grade that made fun of her lips. I then looked at her lips and had some devious thoughts. Menage a trois came to mind at the tail end of the afternoon. I didn't go through mimi's medicine cabinet. I had this feeling she wanted me to because she filled it up with marbles. Instead, I just peed with the toilet seat up and then after I flushed the toilet I lifted up the back and disconnected the handle from the chain that lifts the rubber stopper and allows for the water to rush through and flush. Much to my surprise though, she had a couple of rocks in the tank and a turtle too. And I thought...what a whacked out broad this mimi must be. And then I thought, I wonder if she even knows it's there. And then I thought....I best not say anything because maybe one of her grand-kids put the turtle in there to keep it away from a nasty cat that keeps pawing away at their little glass bowl at home. And then I realized I better hook back the chain that that's attached to the rubber stopper apparatus because I didn't want her to lift the back of the toilet up to see why it wasn't flushing properly and then go eek when she saw the turtle and get super light headed and pass out and hit her head on the sink on the way down. But what if she reads this blog. I better shut up now. I was going to tell you about how Liza and I got stuck in the elevator for about a half hour on our way out to the parking lot. When the maintenance guy finally got the doors open for us...I asked him what the hell happened. And he said....turtles....they're all over the place.




                                            

Beyonce...not necessarily. A new car. Possibly. Charisma. I'm not sure. Borderline dangerous. Depends. For much longer. Hopefully not. So, what are you telling me. Thank god for creating extremes. And why is that. So we can find the middle. Regardless, I am not going to play with the thought process that I was on. I want to tell you about tomorrow. I am going across the border on into Canada. I am amazed at what a huge pain in the ass this simple procedure of going from my home to mimi's home could possibly end up being. Where were you born. Buffalo. What is your reason for coming into Canada today. To have lunch. Are you bringing anything over with you other than the clothes you're wearing. No. I smell apple pie. Well actually, I am bringing a homemade apple pie for our lunch this afternoon. Did you get an agricultural permit for the apples you used to bake your pie. No sir. Well, you'll have to pull over to the right and ask for a permit application and fill it out and pay twenty Canadian dollars and they may issue you a permit. What do you mean may. Simple, there are no guarantees ever since 9/11. So, can I turn around and just go back home. That may be a possibility, but we may have to confiscate the pie. And what about the vanilla Ice cream in the cooler. Did you get a dairy permit for that sir. No, I didn't get any fucking permits for anything. Watch your language sir. Hey, take a shit, there's about five cars in back of me, why are you jerking me around. Pull over to the furthest right station and they are going to strip your car and strip your clothes and make you spread your cheeks. Fuck you....a huge u turn occurs, a screech and a scent of burning rubber permeates the air and a whirr whirr whirr of flashing red provincial lights are seen and heard from my rear-view mirror. Blasting from a weird sounding loud system are the words...PULL OVER....PULL OVER. And now I'm home, and I'm not even close to being under any form of house arrest. How the hell did he get away from us....you guys will pay for this. Excuse me sir, I'm a gal. Yes, and quite a cutie too. Can you do me a favor. What's that sir. Can you bake me an apple pie. From scratch. Sure.  
                                                 

Pure decadence. Improper balance. Can I tell you what I'm doing tonight. Should I or must I? Would it spoil the fun? What fun and whose fun? Hoosegow. Too much fun can get you into a load of trouble. Truth is I'm searching. I'm tired and I'm looking for a word that will trigger a chain of words that may end up becoming a blog. I've got a few hoosegow stories, but I'd rather talk about butter tonight. This is my confession: I've never felt comfortable with margarine. I could always cozy up to lard, but I've always had this thing about margarine. Margarine always left a funny after taste in my mouth. Even when they named it "I can't believe it's not butter,"  I thought....how stupid am I not to believe it's not butter...after all.... don't I even trust my own after taste. I think a lot of legislation has been passed throughout the years for a little more truth in advertising. I would love to go into a supermarket one day and see a plastic container with these words printed on it: "this is not fucking butter."  I would enjoy such honesty, but then, my next question would be....well, what the fuck is it. I would then try to read the small print on the container which is generally impossible for me to read under the best lighting conditions and I would attempt to determine if this product that I was about to place into my cart was really safe for human consumption. Excuse me, could you please help me. With what? I can't read the last few words on these ingredients. It says: all natural 10/35 motor oil. And then I may think, a buck seventy-nine is not all that bad of a price considering the price of oil these days...and then think...whoa, what if this is the oil that they already took out of cars after oil changes, and then think..what the fuck are you thinking...none of this shit should matter...it's the taste of butter that you love the most. And then, I would start to look for some fresh bread that didn't smell like the stuff that drips on my driveway. Of course I'm exaggerating the moo versus vroom of my imagination. Whose gow is it anyway? Wow, I can't  believe I'm doing this with our language tonight.
   
                                        

We had spaghetti for supper.Tomato & basil sauce.  That's a hint. Texas
garlic toast with cheese too. And meatballs made with beef, veal and pork. And
now a burp that has a garlic flavor to it. Beer too. No wine. Grated cheese was
tossed in & a small salad. No farts yet...but I'm speaking for myself. I
didn't eat alone. But since supper, we've departed, so I don't know if someone
else has farted. I did that rhyme for you. Do you enjoy beans for supper. Did
you ever hear this: beans, beans the musical food, the more you eat the more
you tune. I think I have heard someone say that once and I think I may have
said that phrase well over a thousand times during my life, but that's a guess.
I am now wondering if at the moment of my death it will be revealed to me the
correct amount of times I uttered that phrase. It's been said that before one
dies, their life flashes before them. I just wonder if that flash includes
details such as dates and times, banalities, innuendos, and passing fancies. Or
does this time come flashing by in chunks....say for example, incrementally in
chunks of fives years at a time. That wouldn't be fair. Especially when you
take into consideration the first seven years of your life, when there's so
much new stuff going on. (at this point you may insert things other than going
from tit to bottle, teething, potty training, first steps and baby goes boom
& don't touch) Personally, before I go anywhere after death, I want my
flash to include all. I want to savor all the moments I forgot about during my
full life. (please insert here a moment you personally wish to recall) 
(and now, petition your god) (I don't think I could be of any assistance to you
while you're at your moment of death) And I wonder if all this shit happens
automatically for all, or if I have to start asking my god to make sure it
happens for you too.

I've never been able to snap a good picture of one of our cats around here. This cat you see today is Bandit. She's a stray like our other two. Give Bandit some credit, she likes to move in an out while the other two have found a home. Chances are that Bandit could die outdoors, while the other two will die some place upstairs in some corner and I will have to bring their bodies down and crate them some place to be cremated. But, who knows, the house may burn down while we're all sound asleep (3 dogs, 3 cats, a beta fish & dust mites & some spiders too) and that's the end of it. Until, someone has sifted through the ashes and has made a discovery. Looky here me mate and see what I have discovered. Be careful not to disturb the dig because we need to piece it all together. I'm glad there are people out there that piece it all together for us. Today I read in the news that some astronomer discovered two more stars besides the one he knew was always there. It was quite a discovery but he claimed that he always knew that there was always more than the one than the one he claimed to be his own. I wondered why he would have bothered to seek for more than the one he claimed to be his own, and I can only surmise that he really wasn't wishing to find out for sure if there were more, but it was a simple matter of him just wanting to be sure. And now what...there's two more. Honey, are you coming to bed tonight. Yes dear, but if I found two, don't you think there's more out there. Yes, I'd guess a billion more. Holy shit, you're so right...I seemed to have lost perspective. Can you do me a favor. What's that. Can you feed the cats before you come to bed. Sure, but you'll owe me. Meow.   btw...I was going to shitcan the sanpshot but I liked the way the whiskers looked.