Cheryl, aka, The Bag Lady, is a wonderful blogger who I’ve been following for quite a while. If you’re not already following her, you should check out her blog. Anyway, Cheryl wrote a comment on my post from this morning where I was whining about the high volume of spam comments I’ve been getting for the past five days. Cheryl wrote:

“Have you gone into your site profile and set up certain words or site names you block? I have done this and it helps a lot.”

So I took Cheryl’s advice, went to the “Discussion” menu in my Settings, and added “CBD” to the comment “blacklist.” Lo and behold, all those spam comments started going into my trash folder rather than into my spam folder! Yay!067fda2d-1960-40c8-8608-9e0923ddcb82Now, my trash folder is filling up, while my spam folder is practically empty. How cool is that? I feel much more comfortable doing a bulk delete of the items in my trash folder than doing so in my spam folder, where some valid comments might get incorrectly tagged as spam.

So, Cheryl, thank you, thank you, thank you, for your suggestion. I owe you! Bigly!

Way or Now Way, Volume, uh, Whatever

Another No Way/So Way challenge from Rory, aka, A Guy Called Bloke. So, here goes:

Been so drunk, just couldn’t walk

Oh so way. On such occasions, which go back many years, as I’m now mostly a teetotaler, I would just lay down with my arms wrapped around the porcelain goddess for the night.Cartoon teen boy sick in the toilet. Wishing he was dead

Had a near death experience

Oh no way.

Talked to yourself in public

Oh so way. Who doesn’t?

Lied about age in order to fit in to the crowd

Oh so way. Well, not so much to fit in with a crowd as much as using a fake ID to get into a drinking establishment when I was underage.

Gatecrashed a party

Oh so way. Who hasn’t?

Sniffed your underwear to see if it’s clean or dirty

Eww. Oh so no way.

Not paid a restaurant bill … deliberately

I’m ashamed to admit it but oh so way. Back in high school my buddy and I would go to a Hot Shoppes restaurant and we’d each order a Mighty Mo sandwich (a Big Mac precursor), French fries with gravy, and a Coke. When we were done, we’d go to the restroom, which was on the lower level, and then, after doing our business, walk back upstairs and exit the restaurant. And before you ask, yes, this was the same guy I was with when I got nabbed for attempting to steal a live chameleon.0df0c076-801d-4752-a098-cc3c81c948c5

Woken up in a strange place, oblivious as  to how you got there

Back in the day, oh so way.

Worn clothing inside out

Oh no way. Not intentionally, anyway.

Broken a mirror

Oh so way, but again, not intentionally.

Believed in a conspiracy theory

Define “conspiracy theory.” If believing that the Russians interfered with the 2016 presidential elections in the U.S. and also with the Brexit vote in the U.K., and if believing that Donald Trump is a willing pawn of Vladimir Putin and Russia are considered  to be “conspiracy theories” — and I don’t believe they are — then oh so way.

Been involved in a riot

Oh so way. I was involved in a protest against…well, guess who…and things got a little out of hand.

Punched someone

Oh so way, but I didn’t throw the first punch. Come to think of it, I don’t think I threw the last punch either. Just a bunch of punches in between. But you know, boys will be boys, amiright?

One-Liner Wednesday — Criticism

ab93ae8d-921e-4a54-b6ec-81b4c34dee2d“Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative, a friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger.”

Humorist Franklin P. Jones

How are you at accepting “honest criticism”? Be honest, now.

Written for today’s One-Liner Wednesday prompt from Linda G. Hill.


Last night, between the time I went to bed at around 11 pm and when I woke up this morning at 6:30 am, 292 new spam comments arrived at my blog. 69fbcb08-7574-40f7-9487-97558a7f555eAll of them were the same kind of spam — about something called CBD — as the ones I suddenly started receiving out of the blue four days ago and which I posted about HERE. At least I think that they were all about that CBD stuff.

Unfortunately, I continue to receive a shitload of these spam comments daily. I usually go through the items in my spam folder one item at a time just to make sure that no legit comments somehow got caught up in the spam net. But with so many spam comments, there’s no way I’m going to go through them one comment at a time. So I did a bulk edit, permanently deleting all 292 in one fell swoop.

If, by chance, you made a comment on any of my posts and it never showed up, I’ve got news for you. It may be that it landed in my spam folder and got deleted in my bulk actions. If so, sorry about that. Hopefully this barrage of spam comments I’ve been getting will end soon.

Did you notice how I managed to sneak in two of today’s one-word prompts into this post? My own FOWC with Fandango prompt (news) and the Word of the Day Challenge prompt (barrage). Pretty clever, huh?

Page 173, Line 4

Here’s another one of The Haunted Wordsmith’s page and line number prompts. The way it works is that we’re supposed to grab a book…any kind of book…and flip to the designated page and then to the specified line — in this case, page 173, line 4 — and take the quoted line and use it in a story.

5f088a83-b07a-4852-9769-5b6bb963b95aThe book I chose for this exercise is “O Little Town” by Don Reid. Line 4 on page 173 reads, “They sneaked around a lot down here behind her husband’s back.” So given that line, here’s my story.

“When was the last time you saw the two of them together?” Detective Morrisey asked the woman with teased up, bleach-blonde hair and way too much makeup who was positioned behind the hotel’s reception counter.

“Oh they were such a lovely couple,” Jean said. “Of course, she was married, so they sneaked around a lot down here behind her husband’s back. They usually arrived on Friday nights and left after brunch on Sunday mornings. It’s such a tragedy that she’s gone missing. I bet it was the husband. It’s always the husband, isn’t it?”

Morrisey was a Joe Friday kind of detective. All he was interested in were the facts. “When was the last time they were here?” he asked, trying to hide his impatience.

“Well,” Jean said looking up toward the ceiling of the small lobby as she was searching her memory. “They had their romantic rendezvous once a month and, if memory serves, it was always on the second weekend of each month. So that would have been two weeks ago, I suppose.”

“Do you have a guest register book where they signed in or something on your computer database to document that?” Morrisey asked.

“Oh honey, we’re just a cozy country inn,” Jean said. “We don’t have a fancy-schmancy computer system. And,” Jean added with a wink and a yellow-toothed smile, “we usually don’t require our regular guests to sign the register, you know what I mean?”

“Do you remember if they left together on their last visit?” Morrisey asked.

“Sorry, detective, but Sunday is my day of rest,” Jean said. “Alan would have worked the desk that day and he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Jean looked at Detective Morrisey and decided she liked what she saw. “If you want to stay the night and talk to him in the morning, hon, I can set you up in a real nice suite and give you some very personal service, if you get my drift.” She winked at the detective again and added, “I won’t even ask you to sign the register book.”

Morrisey reach into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. “You’ve been very helpful, Jean, but I need to head back to the city.” He handed the card to Jean. “Leave this card for Alan with a note for him to call me tomorrow, will you, hon?”

As he was exiting the lobby, Morrisey heard Jean calling out, “I bet it’s the husband.”