Lie Detecting

Pardon the intrusion in my posts of late, but I have been occuppied with an unexpected houseguest. My godson Andrew is in town as his Houston job has dried up and he is looking for funding. He stops in every 3 years and 2 months to see how I'm doing and whether there is a space on the futon for him. Of course there always is, but I am a smidgeon worried this time as I do not have a duvet this time around, since he ruined the last one with his drunkeries.

His name Andrew and he has always never been up to no good. I love him dearly, but he has a mischievous streak of which I am none too pleased. He is not a bad son (I call him my son), although he was never very good at origami or any of the folding arts I taught him. It's just that he is often angered, sometimes on my behalf.

He is not a responsive gift recipient and when I presented him with a sausage cheese egg pickle and sausage basket, he snorted at it, not like a pig, but like a non-plussed burro. He is the only one who has not appreciated the baskets that I give, and this was of course offensive to me.

I have argued with him to stay off the booze train, and he says he is cooperative, but last night I was not sure. I wanted to be sure, so I attempted to enlist the help of a lie detector test. I was thinking that perhaps being hooked up to one and the subsequent flashings of colorful bulbs might make him nervous enough to not get on the wagon again. The rental of such a device necessitated a phone call, of which I recorded, and of which you can listen to on the player below.

Too Much Pudding Information

When I bumped into an acquaintance at bingo the other night I was appalled to heaer her go on an on regarding a hair she found in her dessert. First off, the church has financial troubles as it is without her raising a stink to boycott the chocolate pudding. Second, in mentally selecting a culprit for the hair, the conversation drew all attention on her as she is thinning in the back and the pudding was resting gently behind her for several minutes before she partook. Thirdly of all, it is very unappetizing to hear of such things from other people. Other people’s sophomoric body sheddings should not be shared with by me. I may have lost the bonus board as a direct result of her squeameries.

But on the up and up, what I wanted to tell you about was of my stool samplings of lasterday yester. I had belief of tapeworms that may have been rollicking out down up in there and so I visited my doctor who checked it all out with big metal tools and lights, slapped me on the back and said I was good to go. He gave homework to wrangle up a sample of a dirty culture from my droppings, but I had troubles with the home stool sample kit he gave me, so I placed the phone call below.

Press play on the player below to hear the phone call.

Espionage Against Me

Getting to my dance lessons has been difficult thus far. I have remitted full payment for the class, and today was supposed to be the first one, but I had to miss. I was only 20 minutes late when I was about to leave, but during my customary detailed inspection to make sure nothing is amiss in the apartment, I noticed a crack in the floor that perhaps had not been there before. I followed the crack and it seemed to run the entire length of my living room. I immediately suspected that it was a spy-type thing where perhaps people could follow me from one end of the room to another to achieve some sort of goal of their own of which would not be shared by or helpful to me. I attempted to thwart them by stacking old magazines and newspapers on top of the crack, thereby creating an opaque substance of which for them to not see through.

I had just completed my thwartful task when I found a second crack in the floor, equal in length to the first. I rushed to my magazine and newspaper room, but had only enough to cover half of the crack. At this, I went reeling and into a shopping spree to Walgreens of which where to buy more magazines and newspapers but the man there said he didn’t sell those, only pastries, and did I want to order anything. I was unaware that Walgreens had changed over to selling only yeast breads, but this is fine with me as I like eating a croissant from time to time, for my constitution. I bought the pastries and took them home.

Upon home arrival it was clear that the stack of magazines had been moved no less than a quarter of an inch of where I had placed them, so I readjusted them and filled the other crack with the pastries.

When I found the third crack, it became clear I would not make it to my dance class, as I was 3 hours late and the class is only an hour-thirty. I laid down flat on top of the crack to block at least 5 feet 1 inch of the lateral, floor-length peephole. From this spot I could just reach the phone to call the floor man and he said that cracks like the ones I am experiencing are perfectly normalized in a hardwood floor.

Soothed by his words and promises, I went out to buy some baton twirlers at Walgreens. Because they recently decided to sell only bread goods, I was prepared to use breadsticks if need be. However, when I reached the Walgreens, their new policy is that they sell only Mexican food and beer, so I am using tostadas which is messy, but luckily my floor already is bedded with newsprints and magazines on of which to catch it all. I trust I will catch up with the rest of the class in a timely manner.

Alright, Honey. Bye-bye.

I Am Going to Die...

...Some day. Don’t worry everyone, I feel perfectly good (although my shoes are a bit tight) but when you get to be 84, you realize that you only have another good 30 or 40 years left. And that gives you great pause, in which time you think of many things like

• Did I live a good life?
• Can dogs be trusted?
• Who’s that man? I haven’t seen him in the neighborhood before.

So I thought that maybe perhaps it was time to start thinking about funeral planning and to share those thoughts with acquaintances since 4 decades can really sneak up on you.

Size:
I would like to have a big funeral where everybody is sad that I’m dead and there are lots of acquaintances curious to see what my body looks like one more time.

Shrine:
I insist that there be a shrine of all the pictures of me that weren’t clawed up in the bear attack that took my life. Should that be all how of which it goes down. Candles should be burned liberally and constantly for three days, but kept a respectable distance from the photographs, except the metal ones, in which case, heating them is fine.

The Viewing:
There will be a whole silver motif going on. My casket must be silver or wood coated with silver laminate. I will lowered into it, dressed in a silver sequined suit. Silver tears must be painted on my eyes and I would like some face painting done as well—perhaps a squirrel or a rainbow balloon. I don’t know how it would be worked, but I would like people to be able to rotate my head at their own will, perhaps with a system of pulleys or something, so that they can see the back of my head and how nicely shaped it is. I will get my hair done up in a fashion that does not negate the natural angles of the back of my head.

Minister:
I would like a minister of every faith and sect just to make sure I’m good to go. They can take turns leading the service. They can either switch off section by section, sentence by sentence, or word by word or just have them speak all at once. Any aforablementioned option is good with me, provided that the speaking part not run longer than 4 hours.

Readings:
A poem must be read that will sound deep and cause any sort of confusion.

Desserts:
There will be a cake with roses on top, tastefully done up. No spiders please.

Flower girl:
She must be a 6-year-old Asian girl in a pink dress (I will provide the sewing pattern and material), and I would like her to weigh 52 pounds, although I am flexible on that last part.

Groom:
Between the ages of 35-50.

Circumcision:
N/A

Cremation:
I would then like to be set ablaze with a cigarette in my mouth for comic effect to remind people that I believed in humor and also that I smoked.

Cost:
I would like to spend no more than $26 Canadian.

Dancing With Gentlemen

Inspired by the events of which unfolded in front of me at the Pickle Sausage Basket Cheese Festivalathon from a week ago, I have been finding myself reeling in starstruck dizzyness, and feel I must get back on my feet to pursue my dream of which is of becoming a dancer of which. The children of Lawndale Elementary really inspired me to believe that the children are the future... of dance.

To be a dancer, you must have 8 items, traits, and personabilities: (1) grace, (2) persona, (3) good inner-ear modulation, (4) hands that can stick straight downwards, (5) toeless shoes, (6) a big hat to capture the audiences attention and dreams, (7) people skills, and (8) a knowledge of dance steps and animal life. Thankfully I have 7 out of the 8 things above, so I am well on my way to becoming an all well and good ballet dancer. Once my hissing, spitting ear is cleared up, I'll be as right as a rainmaker.

So I bought an ear enema kit and I kindly called for ballet lessons. To ensure my homeland security and that quality customer service is received and had by all, I have recorded the phone call and you can play it now in case I ever need witnesses in court, you will be the one. The phone call is below.

Alright, honey. Bye-bye.

Press play on the player below to hear the phone call.

A Time To Remember - The 2nd Annual Sausage Pickle Basket Convention

I am just happily returned after a week-long trip to the Pickle Sausage Basket Convention at Lawdale Elementary School in Horosburg, Virginia. The is the second of some such convention of which that I have attended, although I have been an appreciator of both sausage and pickles and also of cheese baskets for many years and have given them exclusively as gifts for the past times to friends of mine and family too.

I don’t like to bother other people, so I keep to myself mainly. Thusforth I wouldn’t say I met many new acquaintances, but I did get to fraternize and matronize with many former acquaintances, none of whom remembered me until I showed them my back scar.

The convention began when a bell was rung in the dining hall to tell us all to come closer because there was something the man ringing the bell wanted to say. By the time I was close enough to hear him he had finished speaking, but I surmised that he said “Welcome to the Pickle Sausage Basket Convention. Mill about if you will.”

There was much to see. The world’s second pickle sausage basket (circa 1809) was on display in the principal’s office at the elementary school where the convention was held. It was a sight to see, which is for sure. I wanted to post my pictures, but when I tape the pictures to my computer screen, friends have told me they are still unable to view them. So that will have to wait until the windows man gets back to me.

In the nurse’s station we saw a demonstration of how sausage pickle baskets are put together. It was interesting to see the sausages and pickles and cheeses and some crackers and artificial greeneries in the state that they are in before being compiled into a sausage pickle basket. Many of us had questions of which to ask that took us well into the night.

On day two, we were shown a filmstrip on the history of pickle sausage baskets in the janitor’s closet. The airconditioning in the auditorium was not working well, and the large fans were too loud, so I missed a lot of it, but here is what I picked up on the rich history:

(1) God created man.
(2) Man invented sausage.
(3) Man invented cheese.
(4) Man invented pickles.
(5) Man tied food together with a string.
(6) String-tied pickle/sausage/cheese bundles damaged the food products.
(7) Man invented baskets.
(8) Man put food products in the baskets.
(9) God created woman.

It was very fascinating and had me all attentive until I nodded off and woke up hours on the soccer field out behind the baseball diamond.

On day three we sampled sausage pickle baskets from all over the world in the cafeteria. My favorites were the ones from the Ukraine and the Greek Islands.

On day four we had a bathroom break.

On day five we were treated to a lovely performance by the Lawndale Elementary Players who wrote a special play just for the occasion. I couldn’t hear most of it because the man with the hat was talking my ear off that smoking was not allowed in the Pembrook Auditorium. But I applauded at the end anyway. I thought perhaps I could be a part of the show next year, as I have always wanted to dance. I may think about getting dance lessons sometime soon.

On day six I was back home writing this blog entry. If want to read what I wrote, start over at the beginning of this entry.

Regrettably Hypnotized

I have for the last 5 days and a couple hours have had quite a nerve-wracking week. A stage hypnotist has altered the weekly routine that had worked so well for me for the past many years. On Friday I was at a birthday party to celebrate the annual aging of an acquaintance and I was elected by the crowd to appear on stage with a hypnotism man who was on stage making jokes and singing songs and putting coins in his mouth to hide them from me. I thought hypnotism would be interesting and hoped it would get me in touch with my inner void so I could mine it for my history.

Unfortunately, the outcome was not made in this fashion. I don’t remember my time on stage, but I believe I was made to do harmful things because for the last week, anytime I pass a wooden door, I involuntarily bang my head on it. This has caused some additional confusion in my latest week. After five days of this numblesuch, I thought it best to contact a professional hypnotizer man to help out. As always, I recorded the call to ensure customer service was being had by me, and also for purposes to protect my homeland security. If your ears are not faulty, you can hear the occasional bang on a door as I pound my head on it.

Alright, honey. Bye bye.

Press play on the player below to hear the phone call.