My First #SlapDashSat: 09-08-18

Just trying out new toys I find on the internet.

I found a writing game on Twitter called #SlapDashSat.  You can search the hashtag, or, check out the main page @SlapDashSat.  There is no theme, no rules, just free form writing.  Just whatever happens to cross your mind at the moment.

A lot of what I read reminded me of conversations from a Tarantino movie.  You know what I mean.  The conversations where the characters just seem to be bullshitting to pass the time.  I like Tarantino movies, so, I figured, what the hell.

And then my mind went blank.

I turned to my trusty fortune cookie fortune collection and found this gem:

Always stick around for one more drink. That’s when stuff happens.

I thought of a quick scene.  I’ll admit it: I didn’t go straight to Twitter with my scene.  I roughed it out, did some editing, walked away from it, came back, cut some stuff, rinse and repeat.  I got the scene into a form I liked and went with it.  

Brevity escaped me that day.  Ah, well.  Some people liked it.  That’s cool.  I posted it late in the evening, so, some of the likes didn’t come in until the next Saturday.  That’s cool, too.  I tried it and I liked it and I’ll try it again.  

And I encourage you to check out the game @SlapDashSat.

P.S Wakelet failed me.  If you know of another app to put Twitter post collections into WordPress, please share in the comments.

Advertisements

Tales of Karma: May 8th, 2018

For some odd reason, my polling place changed. Whatever, it was only a little bit farther than where I used to go to vote, so no biggie. And besides, the poll is close to Mission BBQ, and any excuse to go to Mission BBQ is valid.

I pull into the lot of my polling place, and all I can think is “same actors, new stage.” Just a bunch of volunteers running around the lot, trying to stuff literature into your hand. When you get inside the door, there is a big barrel full of said literature. What a fucking waste. Maybe if politicians didn’t waste so much cash on literature, they wouldn’t have to accept so many contributions and bribes to run a campaign.

Voting itself was uneventful. I got my ballot, filled it out, and ran it through the scanner in probably less than 7 minutes. Of course, Tuesday is one of my days off during the week, so, your mileage may vary.

As I was leaving the multipurpose room used for voting, I felt my shoe come untied. I steered my way to a folding chair to tie it and was approached by one of the poll workers.

“Excuse me, sir. It seems your right shoe has come untied.”

He reminded me of Justin Wilson, the Cajun cook who used to have a show on PBS. He even had a bit of a southern drawl, not quite Cajun, but close enough for jazz. He entertained me with a story while I retied my shoe.

“I was downtown a couple weeks ago, on jury duty at the Justice Center, when I saw a man with a shoe untied. I mentioned it to him, and he turned on me and gave me a few choice words I can’t use in polite company. He went up a flight of stairs, and wouldn’t you know it, when he got to the top step, he tripped on the shoe lace I warned him about, fell down all 12 steps, and broke his ankle.”

I chuckled. “Good for him. Sounds like karma worked that day.”

“I told him, right before the paramedics arrived, maybe he won’t need that lace anymore if they have to cut the shoe to fix your foot.”

We shared another laugh at the other guy’s expense. I thanked him for brightening my day with his story, shook his hand, and went on my way.

It’s one thing to just ignore somebody and keep walking after an innocuous warning about something like an untied shoelace. But to actually take the time to cuss out somebody, just because they were looking out for you?

I may be tempting karma, but I still can’t help but smile when I think of that story.

Bourbon

A short rant from my personal journal, December 31, 2017, edited to resemble English.

My brother gave me “The Whisky Enthusiast” sample box for Christmas. The box contains a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red scotch, Crown Royal Canadian whisky, and Bulleit bourbon. I poured myself a little drink before I started journaling today. I didn’t want to open the Crown, and my hands were too dry to get the scotch open, so, I went with the bourbon.

I read a couple of websites about Scotch and bourbon, mostly about how to drink it. To be honest, the most I’ve ever done with whisky is shots, and those went so fast, I never learned to appreciate the flavor. If there was any.  All I knew was the burn. So, bourbon it was.

cold-light-alcohol-glass.jpg

I knew “neat” meant straight, room temperature, and “on the rocks” meant over ice. On the rocks didn’t seem like a clever idea if I wanted to try to find the flavor, with all that ice melting. Then I read about adding a little water. Enthusiasts seem to like this preparation, at least on the 2 websites I read, so I decided to give it a try. From what I understand, the water helps reduce some unwanted flavors that can come with wood aged liquors and enhances wanted flavors. Apparently, I’m an enthusiast, at least according to the box, so I put a little water in a rocks glass, and 2 fingers of the Bulleit bourbon.

I like the idea fingers, plenty of opportunities for humor with the finger concept. Of course, it depends on the audience. If a dude asks for 2 fingers, I can just flip him a double bird. Lots of laughs. “I’m telling you, Jerry, it’s the best Jerry, the best!” Have I mentioned ever mentioned I like Seinfeld?

So far, I’ve only had a few sips. My tongue and belly have a nice warmth going on. I probably still have half of the to drink to go. Where was I?  Ah, yes.

Fingers. Some good comedy potential if other dudes are involved, but comedy goes out the window in the ladies are involved, although there is still a lot of potential. ” May offer you 2 fingers?” and hold the bottle up for her to see. I’m no expert, but, I think you’ll know right away if the conversation is worth pursuing after that move. Of course, you could get slapped. At least you tried.

It’s the 21st century — no reason the woman can’t be the pursuer. “You gotta couple of fingers for thirst girl?” Give her a quick once over, and you either grab the bottle, or flip her a bird. At least she doesn’t have to worry about being slapped. Yeah, that’s wrong. Chances are you’ll be grabbing a bottle. No flipping or slapping, unless you’re a douche. And if you are a douche, chances are people know it already, and you don’t have to worry about making decisions about buying a girl a drink or flipping her off.

I think I just found some of the attitude and general outlook on life for one of my characters.

The Best Cat Ever: Nuggy the Christmas Kitty, Part 2

Nuggy: Sept 1998 – June 16, 2017

Nuggy enjoyed Christmas Time.

I know, I mentioned that before, but it’s a good opening. Having already talked about cats at the first Christmas, I’m reusing the opening to talk about our first Christmas with Nuggy.

It was 1999, and my wife and I had just bought our first house that August.  Nuggy moved in during September. Before getting too far into the holiday season, we found out we were going to have our first child.

Then the real fun began.

We told my mom and Christine’s parents we were expecting. Then the rest of the relatives. My brother and his wife just told us the week before they were expecting, also.

One day I came home from work, and Christine told me we had to get rid of Nuggy. Continue reading

The Best Cat Ever: Nuggy the Christmas Kitty, part 1

Nuggy: Sept. 1998 — June 16th, 2017

Nuggy enjoyed Christmas time. I’m not sure if he had any strong religious beliefs, but what do I know?  During the season, he would curl up by the nativity scene under the tree often enough, maybe he did.

A long winters nap, to dream of that first Christmas Eve. Most Nativity scenes don’t show them, but I’m willing to bet there were at least a couple of cats present that night. The innkeeper needed them to keep the mouse population under control.

The cats took a break from their nightly hunting duties to check out all the commotion. They rubbed against the legs of a little boy playing a drum, an action immortalized by the lyric “Purr” rum pum pum pum. Then, the cats and made their way to the manger, darting in a zig-zag pattern to avoid being stepped on by camels. Finally at the manger, the cats stretched two paws on the side for a peek at Baby Jesus. He smiled and cooed at them. The cats purred and entertained the lad with the hypnotizing movements of their tails. Then, with a twitch of their ears, they ran off to resume their hunting duties, having already lost interest in the child.

It could’ve happened. Egypt wasn’t that far away, and they worshiped cats.

The Best Cat Ever: The Beginning, A Good Place to Start

Nuggy: Sept., 1998 – June 16th, 2017

My wife and I moved into our first house in June of 1999. After a few months of settling in, the daughter of one of my wife’s friends got caught with a cat in her apartment, and had to get rid of him. A few days later, Nugs was living with us.

That was probably the last time we called him Nugs. We preferred Nuggy, and I think he did, too.

Nuggy had a lot of nicknames. Nugaboo, Nugglypuff, the Cat Man Do, Nuggyotto (I don’t know why, but Christine and I made sure never to miss Pokemon on Saturday mornings.) When the kids came along, they added to the list –  Kitty Boom Boom was a favorite, and I have no idea where it came from. Everybody had their own names for Nuggy. Nuggy was a pretty friendly cat, once he warmed up to you, which didn’t take long. Continue reading