Our next generation gets to know each other over Thanksgiving dinner at grandpop and grandmom’s house. It’s the way Thanksgiving should be.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
First of all, I never watch sports at all because ALL the ads are either for low T drugs or penile erection drugs. We can’t find the money to cover birth control for women but we insist insurance pay for men to get it up until they’re ninety. What is wrong with that picture?
As for the low T crap, it’s just another drug looking to solve a problem no one knew we even had three years ago. Too bad they haven’t come up with a drug to make old men with three hour hard-ons attractive to older women who
Some years when Thanksgiving rolls around, I find myself at a loss for something new to be grateful for. Until this year I considered the continued health and good fortune that generally blesses my extended family and friends a given. But the past twelve months have changed my outlook. This year taught me just how fragile existence can be.
It started early in the year when my cousin found he had a significant aneurysm and valve problem that would require open heart surgery. This is the cousin who shared my youth and my college years, if not my college activities.
Given the happily comatose state induced by the tryptophan in turkey, maybe that’s the problem Congress is having. They serve too much turkey in the congressional dining room. That would sure in hell explain the zombie like ambience of our current congress.
Here’s what passes for excitement on a Friday night in my house. I sit on the couch eating popcorn. Snowy sits as close to me as possible without actually crawling into my skin. He watches anxiously as each piece of popcorn goes into my mouth waiting for that one stray broken off piece to fall onto my bathrobe. When it finally falls, he eyes it intently, his eyes darting back and forth from the little piece of popcorn to my eyes to see if I’m making any sign that it is forbidden. He nose sniffs ever so gently closer and
Buy me a one way ticket to ANYWHERE that has temperatures above 32 degrees. I’ll be your lap dog. I’ll fetch your paper… well, I would except my mouth isn’t big enough to even get around the Anchorage Daily News. But I’ll be very nice and polite and even poop and pee outside so long as I don’t risk freezing my butt to the ground.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Get your credit card compromised, get a new one issued and then spend an entire day updating the information with all 3284 companies that bill you automatically each month on your credit card. Yep, it doesn’t get much more fun. Anyone out there know a quick cure for a numb butt?
I don’t have a cell phone so that “they” can’t trace my movements because if they did, they’d die of boredom. And I wouldn’t want to be responsible for someone’s death.
Every once in awhile, Carm and Snowy forget about the Santa toy and leave him lying somewhere unattended. About once every thirty to sixty days, BuddhaBubba sees it lying there and takes advantage of the opportunity to claim it for her own. The problem? Once she’s cornered it, managed to stuff it in her mouth and protect it from the boys, she stands in total bewilderment clearly wondering what the hell she’s supposed to do with it now that she caught it. I’m with her. I have no idea why the boys both think they are the powerful vanquishers of
I can still vaguely remember saying, with fervent conviction, “Never trust anyone over 30”. Based on that theory, I should have packed it in a long, long time ago. But I didn’t. Instead, I wake up each day amazed at how much of my life has passed while I am still trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up.
The passage of time is ground further into my consciousness when I get calls from friends who callously announce that my 50th high school reunion is on the horizon and want to know what month works best