Brown rice crunch, scours clogged pipes.
Water is the fountain of youth.
Alcohol in moderation, keeps Alzheimer’s waiting.
Smoke your meat, not your lungs.
Your best friend lives, inside you.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Kona Blast, Cherita
Cherita is the Malay word for story or tale. A Cherita consists of a single stanza of a one-line verse, followed by a two-line verse, and then finishing with a three-line verse. It can either be written solo or with up to three partners.
Kona winds tore across the Kitchen
upsetting the resident blue vase
decked out in peacock feathers.
Dropping for cover
she remembered a drill from
elementary school.
Kona winds tore across the Kitchen
upsetting the resident blue vase
decked out in peacock feathers.
Dropping for cover
she remembered a drill from
elementary school.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Microsoft Word Help-Cherita
Word could not create the work file
Check the temp environment variable
under word options, run diagnostics.
Global warming
not
the issue.
Check the temp environment variable
under word options, run diagnostics.
Global warming
not
the issue.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Call Me Ma'am
At 25 I ascended a new plateau
that was the first time someone called me Ma'am.
It hit me off guard and left me disturbed
because up until then I was Oh Miss,
or more appropriately, excuse me Ms.
especially since I could still balance on one foot
carry a shopping bag on one hip
and a baby on the other
while hunting for the car keys
at the bottom of my purse
after finally remembering
where I parked the damn car
that OMG
had been keyed on the back,
both sides.
Four rows,
down to bare metal.
Candy apple red, used to be the color
before some asshole decided to add this
new detail to my four month old
with the sticker glue still on it, Subaru
and here I am-Ma'am, all formal like with
that nice young cop taking down every detail
writing up his report, filed in triplicate
and lost beneath a musty pile
on the Sergeants over worked desk.
Now I have to go home and face
the Mister and show him
what some hoodlum
just did.
Oh JOY!!
Next time
I will pack my can of
hornet spray, set to fire
straight into the pupils
of the scum sucking
waste
of a human being
who has opinions
about what other people’s cars
should look like.
The personal property of people
who have earned the right
to have nice cars
without scratches and dents
and I will park
on the empty side of the mall and walk.
that was the first time someone called me Ma'am.
It hit me off guard and left me disturbed
because up until then I was Oh Miss,
or more appropriately, excuse me Ms.
especially since I could still balance on one foot
carry a shopping bag on one hip
and a baby on the other
while hunting for the car keys
at the bottom of my purse
after finally remembering
where I parked the damn car
that OMG
had been keyed on the back,
both sides.
Four rows,
down to bare metal.
Candy apple red, used to be the color
before some asshole decided to add this
new detail to my four month old
with the sticker glue still on it, Subaru
and here I am-Ma'am, all formal like with
that nice young cop taking down every detail
writing up his report, filed in triplicate
and lost beneath a musty pile
on the Sergeants over worked desk.
Now I have to go home and face
the Mister and show him
what some hoodlum
just did.
Oh JOY!!
Next time
I will pack my can of
hornet spray, set to fire
straight into the pupils
of the scum sucking
waste
of a human being
who has opinions
about what other people’s cars
should look like.
The personal property of people
who have earned the right
to have nice cars
without scratches and dents
and I will park
on the empty side of the mall and walk.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Winter's Chill
January’s morning
blast
sent goose bumps
down my spine
as I awaited the sun.
In the meantime women golfers
zipped up jackets and
buttoned up sweaters.
Warm ups ensued
stretching backs and limbs
limbering joints by
swinging Callaway drivers at fallen leaves.
Wedges pitched dimpled white balls
across fairways and onto putting greens
abundant with 4” holes and tiny metal flags
where we practiced putting
testing stroke, speed, and accuracy
while others gossiped and
analyzed the dark sky
gazing at the
flat gray mass for
any other
predictable
signs
of hot air.
blast
sent goose bumps
down my spine
as I awaited the sun.
In the meantime women golfers
zipped up jackets and
buttoned up sweaters.
Warm ups ensued
stretching backs and limbs
limbering joints by
swinging Callaway drivers at fallen leaves.
Wedges pitched dimpled white balls
across fairways and onto putting greens
abundant with 4” holes and tiny metal flags
where we practiced putting
testing stroke, speed, and accuracy
while others gossiped and
analyzed the dark sky
gazing at the
flat gray mass for
any other
predictable
signs
of hot air.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Requiem To Sleep
The syncopated stylings of Mr. Bruno and Zeus
wake me from a place I wasn’t quite ready to leave.
Choruses of cock a doodle doo vie for attention.
A virtuoso at stage right is especially talented, the notes
ring in my ears and bring me back
to Tempurpedic
mattress and pillow
country.
Cradling my spine
in all the right places,as
twisted limp white sheets caress
my aching stiff carcass.
My journey
last night
fraught
with brutal
challenge
escaping
the agony
for a brief respite
from a road well traveled.
A road with loose
biting gravel
pitted with pot holes
and gooey black tar.
Tar so gooey and sticky that you feel like
you are cross country skiing
in Utah and several tall blonde
men decked out in ski attire all named Lars
race by intent on getting to the finish line and you tell yourself why not and you join them and pretty soon you are gaining and they start to cheer you on and at that moment you are in heaven,and heaven is where it’s at, with angels singing and they are so glad you came,
and then you hear the most exquisite music you have ever heard
and suddenly
you are awakened to
to the heart tugging melody of two Great Danes
accompanying the local ambulance on the way to picking up
some poor bastard
who just got yanked
out of
heaven too!
wake me from a place I wasn’t quite ready to leave.
Choruses of cock a doodle doo vie for attention.
A virtuoso at stage right is especially talented, the notes
ring in my ears and bring me back
to Tempurpedic
mattress and pillow
country.
Cradling my spine
in all the right places,as
twisted limp white sheets caress
my aching stiff carcass.
My journey
last night
fraught
with brutal
challenge
escaping
the agony
for a brief respite
from a road well traveled.
A road with loose
biting gravel
pitted with pot holes
and gooey black tar.
Tar so gooey and sticky that you feel like
you are cross country skiing
in Utah and several tall blonde
men decked out in ski attire all named Lars
race by intent on getting to the finish line and you tell yourself why not and you join them and pretty soon you are gaining and they start to cheer you on and at that moment you are in heaven,and heaven is where it’s at, with angels singing and they are so glad you came,
and then you hear the most exquisite music you have ever heard
and suddenly
you are awakened to
to the heart tugging melody of two Great Danes
accompanying the local ambulance on the way to picking up
some poor bastard
who just got yanked
out of
heaven too!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Six Word Memoirs
Cheating Death
Smile more, nobody gets out alive.
Look both ways, then turn around.
Life sucks, get a rain check.
Be adventurous go climb your desire.
Man’s Best Friend
Adopt a dog, friend for life.
Most pets have their priorities straight.
Loyal pets lick away the hurt.
Dogs have some bones to pick.
Smile more, nobody gets out alive.
Look both ways, then turn around.
Life sucks, get a rain check.
Be adventurous go climb your desire.
Man’s Best Friend
Adopt a dog, friend for life.
Most pets have their priorities straight.
Loyal pets lick away the hurt.
Dogs have some bones to pick.
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