Rory Does It Again

5fb252a6-1409-4622-bf90-ca23cbab1d9bRory, aka A Guy Called Bloke, was nominated for the coveted Liebster Award and paid it forward by nominating my blog for the award, along with seven other bloggers. Of course, there’s some mistake because the Liebster Award focuses on blogs with fewer than 200 followers and mine has more than 1,600. And also, my blog is an award-free blog.

Nonetheless, when Rory asks, I answer. So here goes.

If vampires can’t see their reflections, why is their hair always so neat?

It’s in their blood. Or perhaps in the blood of their latest, well-groomed victim.29A28516-F30D-4ED8-BB19-9EE1C481E9AA.jpeg

If a kid refuses to sleep during nap time, are they guilty of resisting a rest?

No, they are just behaving inappropriately.

If they weren’t called grapes and you had the opportunity to rename them, what would you call them?

Pre-raisins.

If the grass wasn’t green what color would you make it?

Brown. That way you couldn’t tell the grass from the brown spots on my lawn.93b5ec9d-d312-430e-a334-3f6ef0dd1f79

Has your imaginary friend ever had an imaginary friend, or just you?

My imaginary friend left me for his imaginary friend. Talk about being jilted.

So, dance in the rain, wallow in the mud or naked angel in the snow?

What do you think a naked skier like me would say? I’d dance naked in a mud puddle in the rain.

Can you describe your blog to me without using the letters i and e?

A blog about ths, that, and th othr.

What are you afraid of becoming?

Irrelevant. Oh wait. Too late. Dammit.

3TC — Calendar Girl

0833882F-2E0B-4948-AE9F-17B985B4988DBarry took another deep hit off the bong. “Dude,” he said, “this grass is potent.”

“Yeah it is fine shit, isn’t it?” Doug replied.

“What is this?” Barry asked, holding up a page torn out from an old calendar.

“Where’d you find that?” Doug said.

“Underneath the seat cushion. Wow, who’s the babe in the picture? Look at those legs, dude. Nice boobs, too,” Barry said.

Doug ripped it out of Barry’s hand. “It’s just an old pinup girl calendar from the Fifties,” Doug said.

“But who’s Miss November 1950? She’s hot! And why was this one page hidden underneath the seat cushion?” Barry asked.

You asked too many questions,” Doug said. He then took a hit off the bong.

“Come on, dude, who’s the hottie?”

“Well,” Doug said, “My grandmother, my mother’s mother, was a pinup model back in the day.”

“That’s your granny?” Barry exclaimed. “Dude, she’s a GILF!”

“Um, she’s dead,” Doug said. “And if she were still alive, she’d be 93, so you may want to rethink that.

“Whoa, dude!” Barry said, taking another hit. “Hey, wasn’t there once a song about calendar girls?”

“Yeah, it was a song by Neil Sedaka.”


Written for the Three Things Challenge from Teresa at The Haunted Wordsmith. The three things are “calendar,” “leg,” and “grass.”

Midnight The Cat

391BDD02-110A-49D6-9328-3EEEEBCA9265I have a black cat.

His name is Midnight.

He likes to go in my backyard.

And sit in the grass.

Waiting for his prey.

Then he brings me a present.

His bountiful catch.

A big, juicy rat.


Written for today’s Three Things Challenge from Teresa. The things are cat, grass, and midnight.

Z is for Zig-Zag

D59D933B-5F16-4072-B70D-381EF0BA21ADWell, this is it. The final day of this year’s A to Z Challenge. And that means that it’s also time to post about the last letter of the alphabet — Z. My Z word is “zig zag.”

Decades before medical marijuana could be sold with a doctor’s prescription and, even more recently, in a number of states that have legalized the sale and use of marijuana for recreational use, the only way to score some pot was if you knew a guy who knew a guy.

Hence, there was a vibrant underground for the buying grass. At the same time, though, a number of small, retail places that serviced the pot-smoking community sprung up in strip malls and shopping centers. These storefronts were called “head shops.”

DF53816C-67F6-4AF3-BF83-03B02EAD3FD4Most head shops had a lot of psychedelic posters, black lights, multicolored plastic beads hanging from the front door and separating the front of the store from the back room, and smelled of burning incense. Some had beanbag chairs and played albums from Hendrix, Joplin, and Jefferson Airplane on the shop’s stereo system turntable.

These head shops from the late 60s through 70s didn’t sell pot or any other drugs. Their merchandise consisted of pot paraphernalia, from pot and hash pipes to bongs, roach clips, posters, and scented incense. And, of course, joint rolling papers, the best of which were Zig-Zag brand papers.

C6B23260-C282-4EAF-A7E7-C1E2D14CCA9CThe label on the Zig-Zag packaging called them “cigarette papers,” but I never, ever saw anyone smoking tobacco in Zig-Zag rolling papers. And it’s not like you could find Zig-Zag rolling papers at the local pharmacy, grocery store, or convenience store. Just at head shops.

So, I dedicate this final A to Z Challenge post to Zig-Zag brand rolling papers. They really helped keep my shit together back in the day.