Screw this!

I just finished composing a lengthy post about a wonderful weekend I just enjoyed, only to have it disappear. I was saving it like I'm supposed to, and now it's gone except for the image. I'm completely pissed off right now. I don't have the patience required to start over. I'm really pissed.

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Weeds

As we get older, some really strange changes occur to our bodies. For us guys especially, our hair does some wild things. Several things can happen. Inevitably it will turn grey. It can thin out or get more coarse. It can fall out partially or completely. That applies to the scalp, but what about the rest of the body? Well, let's start with the eyebrows. Have you ever seen the old guys that look like they have barbed wire for eyebrows? Please, trim 'em up fellas. Big bushy brows do not make you look distinguished. See your barber. Send the trimmings to BP to help with the oil cleanup. I've seen some guys whose brows could have single-handedly cleaned up after the Exxon Valdez disaster. It's embarrassing. And what about those hairs that sprout up in and on the ears? I call them earweeds. I have mine under control for the most part. Some that grow on that little peninsula or flap next to the sideburns can require help from my wife. Nobody else loves me enough to dig in my ears. Pull the weeds guys, otherwise your ears will look like a bad Chia Pet. Now let's talk about those pesky noseweeds. First of all, what purpose do they serve? They grow in all directions from every part of the inner landscape and if you don't control them, the results are catastrophic.First, nobody and I mean nobody wants to see noseweeds flowing from your nostrils. Besides looking disgusting, the problem can compound itself if you have a cold. The hairs act as flypaper trapping stray mucous . Now you have mini Christmas trees with green ornaments hanging out of your nose. Not cool. You can avoid that humiliation if you would mow regularly. Besides, a trimmed nose will allow clear passage for snot rockets. You've seen guys pinch one nostril and propel a green bullet from the other nostril. The force behind the launch guarantees a clear and clean sinus cavity. However, if you have a nose full of vegetation, your trajectory will be interrupted, and your rocket will break apart into a booger pot pie. Again, not cool. Let's tidy up, guys.

I just can't do it!

This posting thing is kickin' my a$$. I wanted to post an image and then start my text below the image, but the cursor won't allow me to move it from the top of the page next to the top of the image to a postion right below the image. Of course I'm a computer nit and I know my way around a keyboard about as well as Lady Gaga knows her way around the Brooks Brothers women's department. So I'm gonna insert the image and we'll see what develops. Here goes... DAGNABBIT!!. See? Sumbitch! Oh well, on with my post.

I always wished I could draw when I was growin' up. Still do. Unfortunately, my attempts are only worthy of an Abstract Art exhibit in a third world country. For instance, take a look at Bugs. Now, I'm sure some of y'all can look at the picture and draw freehand a very close copy to the original. However, when I try to draw, my rabbit looks more like the unfortunate victim of a run in with an 18-wheeler. Blood and guts with long ears and whiskers. What a crock! I'm 54 years old and I can't even draw a straight line or a circle, much less a cartoon. I went to grade school with a guy named Tim Rafferty. He was amazing. He could draw anything. All of the dimensions were perfect. He didn't even need a picture to help him. He even drew anatomical parts. Wow! How the hell did he know what THAT looked like? Sure enough, when I finally saw ONE, it was just like Tim's drawing back in grade school, except in living color. Oh yeah, where was I? So, since I have no artistic talent, I began to wonder where my daughter, Cara, picked up her skills. Probably from my wife. She could at least draw a grid on some plywood and come up with Bert and Ernie Christmas yard decorations. Not me. I can't even draw with the help of a grid or even a sheet of onion paper. Funny, that paper don't smell anything like an onion to me. Anyway, I remain envious of people who have the talent to draw anything they want. And what about tattoo artists? I've seen people with tattoos that Michaelangelo couldn't paint and they're in places I think even Tim Rafferty didn't know about way back when. Who knew that ink and needles would turn into a cable TV show. And you can't hardly find a basketball player who doesn't look like a bad LSD trip at a marijuana convention. I can't imagine any of them having a soap sponsor.Coppertone and Banana Boat won't be interested either.
Well, back to the drawing board, so to speak. Have a great weekend!

Impressions!

Since my last blog regarding my defecatory (sic) adventures, I have been observing the palpable attenuation of my journalistic endeavors. As puerile as my last narrative may have been perceived, it was in fact an indisputable attempt at wittiness. I will now undertake the task of writing a more intellectual conveyance of my thoughts. I have always admired people who have command of the english language. My former posts were meant to be entertaining or thought provoking. However, sometimes my ruminations became somewhat shambolic, risible, and not worthy of the meritocracy of experienced writers. I hope to enlighten all who read this post. It may require copious exploration of Roget's and Mirriam-Webster, but the edification will prove to be most advantageous for use with your future dialectics. George Will's columns and commentaries are a good source of vocabulary challenges. Where should I begin? I want to make sure that I don't militate further reading of this propitious post. I will try to be apposite at the risk of not being too loquacious. I'm sure you find our language to be as insuperable as a person's feelings. Fear not, because our computers are inestimable when it comes to harvesting information. We can surmount endless quandaries with a few clicks of a mouse. I can't imagine how I could ascertain knowledge without one. Yet, there are some minds out there as formidable as a computer and I count my brother as one of those with a seemingly endless amount of current and historical information. Since I'm deficient in my word skills, I sometimes rely on my brother to facilitate my need for learning. If I had read more than Catcher in the Rye and The Godfather, I might have been better steeled to assimilate "big' words, but the pictures in Playboy were better suited for my learning abilities at that time. By now I'm sure you have figured out how meretricious this gallimaufry of words has become. I will wind down this calamitous attempt at posting by asking "who am I trying to kid?" It's taken me two weeks to research the words for this post. I could have written Gone With the Wind in the amount of time I've wasted for this. I won't even remember half of the words I've written in this post. I could have finished sandblasting the $hit shrapnel my drizzlies left behind in my toilet. I could have grown hair to donate to all of the guys sporting toupees. I could have watched Shawshank another 200 times. I can't keep up with George Will and my brother. So, I propose a toast to everybody with a limited vocabulary. Eat, drink, and be happy. It's not how big the words are that make an impression, it's how big your heart is that makes your words and actions impressive. I sure am glad this post is done. My peroration is over. Have a great day!