April 20th, 2006
A very good morning to all of you .
Well, it is nice to be back. It was fun, and hectic, and many sleepless nights as my best friend will confirm, but then, all good things need to come to an end. Well, in any case, this forms a prelude to looking forward to the good things once again later on in the year. Oh Yeah.
Well, away from the biting, cold frosty evenings to the welcome, er . . . humid, hazy, sweaty, sort of nice, healthy warm weather. Actually we are all getting ready to start this new season once more (well most of us, maybe). I am not surprised at all, really, there are some people, who are actually deferring the thought of welcoming 115 degrees, 100% humidity, and the funny thing is, hoping that if they did not think of it, the season would delay its onset. Well, I have bad news. Just you wait and see, it will soon be as hot as hell was intended to be hot.
I don't think I realized how fortunate I was. It just didn't occur to me when a guy actually offered me a seat to sit down as the bus disappeared into the melting stream of cars and buses in the busy evening traffic. I thought he was pointing to some elderly non-existent gentleman standing behind me, and when I realized I was the only taker of the magic seat I quickly took charge like children playing musical chairs. I was elated at first, hoping that the guy was getting off at the next station, but when we both alighted at a bus stop eons later, it struck me. There was an old man on the bus, and the old man was . . .ME.
At a dinner function later on, we talked about this, and we all came up with different stories related to absent mindedness. My favorite was the time when I was actually wearing my spectacles, and I began looking for it all around the room. Then I decided to retrace my activities in the past hour, and only when I used logic to reason that if I was seeing things very clearly, then I had to be wearing them. Clever, wasn’t it?
André’s favorite was the time he was talking to his friend on the cell phone, (and he usually keeps his cell in the left pocket) and he absentmindedly tapped his pocket, and he told his friend, “Wait a minute, will ya. I think I have left my cell phone in the grocery store.”
Marisol’s favorite was the time her father was looking for his slippers all over the house while he was actually wearing them.
So, do you have any such interesting tales then I will be happy to post them for you.
Did you hear of the ‘guy’s four stages’ to becoming old and decrepit? Well, the first stage is forgetting names, the second, forgetting faces. The third is when you forget to zip your trousers back on after an altercation at the ‘urinal’, and the final one, this is good believe me, is when you forget to unzip going to the urinal.
Jeepers, we are then all ready to swear, ‘it was that little kid with the water balloon, just let me get my hands on him.’
So, ladies (this one is for you, Aimee as you come up with witty ones) do you have your four (ahem) stages. If yes, then write back, and I shall be very happy to post them for all those sex starved male lunatics who will be tuning in to read my blog next week (tee hee).
A friend asked me about a particular married woman, and would I fancy her if I had the chance. I replied, of course, she is very sexy. My friend said, “But, she’s married?” And I replied, “Oh, well that's good, she wouldn't call me on weekends, that's fine. She’d be busy. She's not going to start stalking me and bothering me, that would work out beautifully, actually.” Unfortunately, I wouldn’t mind her stalking me. You know what that entails. Yes . . .
My writer’s block is turning into a ‘tsunami’ of blocks, and while I am lying down on my bed and imagining, I get all sorts of vivid tales and stories hammering against my temple like migraine, however, as soon as I sit next to the PC, I just stare at it and expend time surfing the web to download naughty, I mean, er . .natural images to ferment my dissipating delusions and aspiration. It is like going to bed with a beautiful woman (or the other way around for all of you who are twisted or rather straighter than usual) and you discover you are impotent.
Do you think I am a little too conceited or swollen with pride? Well, when My Mom tells me, she loves me, I always reply, me too. It can mean, either, I love her too, or similar to her, I love myself.
So, have you heard the song,
“O Lord, it’s so hard to be humble,
for I’m perfect in every way,
I look at myself daily in the mirror,
I’m getting better each day.
To know me is to love me,
I must be a hell of a man,
O Lord, it’s so hard to be humble,
I’m doing the best that I can.”
Well, amigos, and amigas, it is all over for this week, the fat lady has already taken up position, so I will be back hopefully next week, and until then, take care of yourselves.
Well, it is nice to be back. It was fun, and hectic, and many sleepless nights as my best friend will confirm, but then, all good things need to come to an end. Well, in any case, this forms a prelude to looking forward to the good things once again later on in the year. Oh Yeah.
Well, away from the biting, cold frosty evenings to the welcome, er . . . humid, hazy, sweaty, sort of nice, healthy warm weather. Actually we are all getting ready to start this new season once more (well most of us, maybe). I am not surprised at all, really, there are some people, who are actually deferring the thought of welcoming 115 degrees, 100% humidity, and the funny thing is, hoping that if they did not think of it, the season would delay its onset. Well, I have bad news. Just you wait and see, it will soon be as hot as hell was intended to be hot.
I don't think I realized how fortunate I was. It just didn't occur to me when a guy actually offered me a seat to sit down as the bus disappeared into the melting stream of cars and buses in the busy evening traffic. I thought he was pointing to some elderly non-existent gentleman standing behind me, and when I realized I was the only taker of the magic seat I quickly took charge like children playing musical chairs. I was elated at first, hoping that the guy was getting off at the next station, but when we both alighted at a bus stop eons later, it struck me. There was an old man on the bus, and the old man was . . .ME.
At a dinner function later on, we talked about this, and we all came up with different stories related to absent mindedness. My favorite was the time when I was actually wearing my spectacles, and I began looking for it all around the room. Then I decided to retrace my activities in the past hour, and only when I used logic to reason that if I was seeing things very clearly, then I had to be wearing them. Clever, wasn’t it?
André’s favorite was the time he was talking to his friend on the cell phone, (and he usually keeps his cell in the left pocket) and he absentmindedly tapped his pocket, and he told his friend, “Wait a minute, will ya. I think I have left my cell phone in the grocery store.”
Marisol’s favorite was the time her father was looking for his slippers all over the house while he was actually wearing them.
So, do you have any such interesting tales then I will be happy to post them for you.
Did you hear of the ‘guy’s four stages’ to becoming old and decrepit? Well, the first stage is forgetting names, the second, forgetting faces. The third is when you forget to zip your trousers back on after an altercation at the ‘urinal’, and the final one, this is good believe me, is when you forget to unzip going to the urinal.
Jeepers, we are then all ready to swear, ‘it was that little kid with the water balloon, just let me get my hands on him.’
So, ladies (this one is for you, Aimee as you come up with witty ones) do you have your four (ahem) stages. If yes, then write back, and I shall be very happy to post them for all those sex starved male lunatics who will be tuning in to read my blog next week (tee hee).
A friend asked me about a particular married woman, and would I fancy her if I had the chance. I replied, of course, she is very sexy. My friend said, “But, she’s married?” And I replied, “Oh, well that's good, she wouldn't call me on weekends, that's fine. She’d be busy. She's not going to start stalking me and bothering me, that would work out beautifully, actually.” Unfortunately, I wouldn’t mind her stalking me. You know what that entails. Yes . . .
My writer’s block is turning into a ‘tsunami’ of blocks, and while I am lying down on my bed and imagining, I get all sorts of vivid tales and stories hammering against my temple like migraine, however, as soon as I sit next to the PC, I just stare at it and expend time surfing the web to download naughty, I mean, er . .natural images to ferment my dissipating delusions and aspiration. It is like going to bed with a beautiful woman (or the other way around for all of you who are twisted or rather straighter than usual) and you discover you are impotent.
Do you think I am a little too conceited or swollen with pride? Well, when My Mom tells me, she loves me, I always reply, me too. It can mean, either, I love her too, or similar to her, I love myself.
So, have you heard the song,
“O Lord, it’s so hard to be humble,
for I’m perfect in every way,
I look at myself daily in the mirror,
I’m getting better each day.
To know me is to love me,
I must be a hell of a man,
O Lord, it’s so hard to be humble,
I’m doing the best that I can.”
Well, amigos, and amigas, it is all over for this week, the fat lady has already taken up position, so I will be back hopefully next week, and until then, take care of yourselves.
posted by Ayadh at 8:07 AM
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