I learned I have grandiose dreams (yeah, I know that shouldn’t come as such a surprise to me) that I will not fulfill when given half the chance. (<--- THAT came as the real surprise.)
I attended a virtual memorial for a friend. There were over 150 people on the Zoom call honoring JG's memory. He was a good man who touched many lives and helped countless people. I aspire to do half as well as JG.
I had a birthday anniversary of my 29th birthday during the Coronapocalypse and no one came. (Ok, ok, no one could come, but that's not the point.) I had cake for breakfast, pizza for lunch, and exercised for dinner.
I learned you could finish Netflix. Disney+, sure. But Netflix? Never saw that coming.
And most surprising to me, I miss the energy of people.
Amazon has hookers and drugs for sale! I am not making this up.
No lie. AMAZON the online bookstore/everything store – has hookers and drugs listed for sale. And this post is not safe for work because of nudity and pictures of drug use – Thanks for that, Amazon. Now people will have to wait until they get home to read this.
Three things you may or may not know about NOLA (that’s “New Orleans, Louisiana,” for those of you who don’t get out much) and vampires:New Orleans is purportedly the home to 50 real vampires, according to a study by Louisiana State University doctoral candidate John Edgar Browning.The vampires have their own association, New Orleans Vampire Association (NOVA).There’s a New Orleans Vampire Tour. Naturally.
Think about it. If you wanted to bring men to a place called No Man’s Land, what would you do? You would name a town Hooker, and another nearby town Beaver City. If a town named Hooker attracted women, perhaps “working gals”, along with the men, all the better!
Pimpin out spiders is not about dressing up your pet spider, or decorating it’s cage/box/ride. The phrase refers to the original use of the word “pimpin” – as is turning your spider out on the streets for money.
In the past, I’ve posted several stories about the goings-on at RV parks where I’ve camped. These stories are now grouped into the “Tales From the RV Park” category. Those are listed below, as well as an update on attention-getting Butt-Crack (aka “BC”), and a new resident nicknamed Studly. Someday, I plan to turn “Tales From the RV Park” into an e-book of the same title.
Disclaimer: These stories are fictitious, happened in nightmares, are hearsay, and/or are what others recounted to me. I am part Irish, so there is likely a good deal of exaggeration. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. There is no relation to persons living, dead, or in jail, even if you think so. In other words, don’t bother trying to sue me, and I have no money.
Bugzilla is no longer afraid of the light. Even worse, Bugzilla is no longer afraid of me.
He scurries back and forth across the front edge of the counter, as if marking out his territory. Meanwhile, I stand stock still, trying to decide how to try and kill him this time. I’m standing there watching his every move, mentally recounting the many unsuccessful methods I’d previously employed to try end his scurrying life.
Chickenbone and I had small pets as kids, guinea pigs and a hamster. The guinea pigs were rather “randy”, mated and had cute little furry babies. Baby guinea pigs are born with a coat of fur, and their eyes open. They look like the just like the adults, but with disproportionately big feet.