.
Because my life is full of it.
.
.
Geesh, it’s hard enough to win a championship when you’re deaf… but dead?
That’s seriously impressive.
.
.
In case you were wondering.
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.
Ugh.
The pickle algorithm has struck again.
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.
Substitute cat for dog at this point, but the sentiment is the same.
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It takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’.
.
.
Maybe Star Trek was onto something.
Long live Veeger.
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Bet you didn’t know there are so many words added to the dictionary every year did you?
.
.
What… you don’t care? Then it’s probably better if you skip to the next blog.
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Lie in. The British phrase for staying in bed past the time you were supposed to get up. Personally I’d like to have a lie in till Covid is a thing of the past…. but that would probably require more pajamas than I currently own.
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Miniseries? This is 1963. I thought Roots was the first.
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Phat. I seem to remember that term from my misspent youth. Pretty Hot and Tempting. Though when I searched for a meme…. I got this.
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Captain Kirk would be so pleased.
.
.
Because if I don’t laugh, I’ll scream.
.
.
That looks about right.
This year you’re screwed no matter which way you go.
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Karen.
That slut ruins everything.
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Admit it, we’ve all been there.
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This literally made me snort.
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I’ve been hearing banjo music for a while now…
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That’s a pretty accurate representation of my year. How about you?
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One can only hope.
.
.
You first. I’ll hold your purse….
.
Because laughter is the cheapest form of therapy.
Damn!
That must be it.
At least now I know where it all went.
A pox on you Picard family.
Wow.
That’s something to ponder.
Jesus!
So did I.
They’re right, we were.
And none of us listened.
I anxiously await the day.
They’re everywhere.
Call me crazy, but I doubt this chicka is beating the men off with a stick.
Do I need to feel like Judy Jetson when I dispose of that slightly blue, mold covered cucumber that got pushed to the back of the crisper drawer?
No.
I do not.
Again with the space age crap. If I don’t know what year it is when I wake up?
I need to stop drinking, not buy a new clock.
Oh, yeah. These are sexy.
Perhaps she can double date with that hot Trekkie at the top.
Zero gravity?
I’m pretty sure if I ever find myself there, writing a grocery list or a thank you note won’t be my top priority.
And while I don’t need a dehydration light to flash in my water bottle…. this product might have adult beverage applications.
“Drink! You’re starting to sober up!”
Okay.
I’d buy that.
I’ve never met a flower I didn’t like, so I never pass a nursery without stopping in to check out the new arrivals.
The other day?
This made me laugh.
Best name for manured soil…
Evah!
And then there was this little succulent…
Who clearly wanted a hug.
When I got home that afternoon and saw all the dandelions popping up on our lawn, I lamented the fact that we don’t use chemicals for weed control.
But then I saw this out our bedroom window.
Bless his little Chucker heart.
He wandered around and ate every bloom he saw.
Suck on that Monsanto!
I knew it!
I love to blog.
(I like to think so… but in reality? No.)
I love to read other people’s blogs.
(That looks more like an ostrich egg, but who am I to turn down free food?)
I love to comment on other people’s blogs and have them comment on mine.
(Yes…. Yes I can.)
For me, it’s all about connecting. And I’ve been doing it for over 14 years.
Finding a small tribe of like minded weirdos is comforting, and I enjoy it.
So while I’m relatively new here, and I realize WordPress is a large site with scores of people who try to profit from, or make a living out of it…. I’m constantly dumbfounded by the amount of shadow bloggers who inhabit this space.
They like my post, sometimes they follow me…. when I know damn well they’ve never read a single word I’ve written.
Do they even exist?
Example.
This person (?) has 418 followers…
And 85 likes on a post that isn’t even a post.
WTH?
How can you like something that doesn’t exist?
(Okay, never mind… that’s fabulous.)
But please tell me what the point is here, because I’m confused.
Drive by likings.
Shadow followers.
Why?
River's world..... 