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I wrote a poem about women.

I went to the hardware store this morning and it got me thinking about men and poetry.  Why do women always think they have the answers and to tell us when to be romantic and when to not be?  Shakespeare had it right.  My home, my siding, my way I want the garage.  I am so sick of all the BS and I am a man of God and keep this blog positive.

I wrote a poem about women.  It is from my perspective and it does not mean everything, but it is about a woman I know.

You pull our shades down,
then tell me to shut the door: We need to talk.What? I say
You say no, it is who.
And now I have to sit here with crumbs on my face from the breakfast burrito that you said you made from scratch.

And The Devil Dances his two-step like a deep throat gargoyle,
who is hanging from our abode and whispers secrets to the blinking stars of night
I hate you
I hate you
I love you
I love you
You make me sick.
Love me.

Where are the angels twinkling in your eyes that played a harp with love?
Where are your fancy shoes?
Where did you put my goddamn slippers?

I am ready to go home now.
Leave me alone.
Cut me some slack.
Pick up the margarine.
I like margarine.

I ended my poem like that because I was thinking of my ex-wife from years ago and how I started this blog with the intent to find a real girlfriend. I am so tired of women that lie. I am not perfect, but like I have stated in previous times, I am a God-fearing man who tries his best. I will share more here about my life and my shop, my job and how I feel. I am going for a drive now to clear my head.

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Blues

I’m sorry I missed our date.  I hope your reading this,

 

 

A Very Romantic feeling of flight

I’ve been busy working (again).  It is a good thing.  I found this video and it made me think of Hannah.

I know it’s corny, but I am in touch with my feelings and it is a very good quality about me I’ve been told many times.

 

“Let me share this whole new world with you.”  I will definitely put that in the card LOL!

 

O.k., so what now?

I’m not going to say whether or not I voted for the man, where I come from (as my Pop says, “Back in my day Young Buck…”) we keep close to the vest, and while you-all are tipping over your cards and spilling your drinks, I’ll just keep shuffling my feet under the table and making my face as stone as I KNOW HOW TO DO.  We will see what happens. Meanwhile, I need a woman like this by my side.  She know’s it, too.

 

 

Now I’m thinking of my Pop.  He used to say short one-liners.  I say them (mumble) now.  We repeat my parents in different methods. Pop was an old cowboy, not officially, in the way he dressed and handled situations/events.  I remember his old-fashioned invoice book.  Pop wrote down numbers and receipts with a stubby little pencil from his business with the cars.  I used to read his mail to him, the long letters, and with the forms.  I am not ashamed to say that he wasn’t college or even high school educated, but he could make a business work.  That happened. And he didn’t need the other stuff. He was smart in old-school way and was nice enough to give the shirt off his back, but if you mad him angry he would also give chase down the street and whip you with it.

I saw him give his shirt to a homeless man once, and a sandwich.  I also saw him speed up in a crosswalk to hit someone.  He was serious.  In the backseat, terrified and inside me, thrilled that my dad was a crazy motherf*ck#r, I learned not to be afraid of life.  He said if you are afraid, that’s fine, he would help.  “I’ll help you fix that.”

 

“Just put the quarters in the can, you’ll see.”

 

“Coffee makes you short.”

 

“Don’t just stand there like a hatrack.”

 

“Where’s Sally at?”

 

“If you don’t stand up for something, you’ll fall down for anything.”

 

“Boy, I had thoughts that lived longer than you.”

 

“Unless you’re sleeping with ’em, always say good morning.”

 

“Good idea… baaaaaad judgement.”

 

 

 

Next time I bring my Maracas

You can’t fake this kind of chemistry.  I swear to God I just learned about this woman tonight when my uncle Stan told me to look it up.  He talked about a car commercial, too, so I Googled her name on YouTube and this jewel fell out of the internet.

It is funny how things can be unplanned, but then match up with some other events.  I saw a woman on the street who looked almost just like her, a few days ago.  She wasn’t smiling or dancing, but she was close to the same.

 

Getting in Bed

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How to survive Trumpocalypse. Day 417

You TAKE THE CARDBOARD BOTTOM OFF the frozen pizza BEFORE you put it in the oven.

This is not Digornio.
You are not that fancy anymore.
See, you believe the cardboard should stay on the bottom, because that is what you used to do, and it makes logical sense, right?

Wrong.
You are wrong. REMOVE the plastic wrapping and DISCARD the cardboard bottom, otherwise you just ruined a 2.99 cheapo frozen garbage pizza and that was all your three kids had to look forward to this week. I hope you’re happy.

 

(This is the new-world scenario if our president doesn’t get his policies together.  He needs to follow through on his promises, I’m waiting.  We all are.)

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It’s so funny, I never thought I’d be watching a show like this.  My new dating partner likes to watch this and a few other crazy shows and even though it is something new for me, I like to sit with her and listen to her laugh and watch her play on her phone during the commercials 😉  Yes, it is annoying but she seems to enjoy it and I just like to watch her smile.  Martha and Snoop are pretty funny together.

I know it’s a lot of crazy stuff going on in the world right now so I needed to write about the comedy relief.  It helps sometimes for people, I think.  Have a good day everyone and I hope it goes well

The whole shows =

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