’20 A To Z Challenge – S

SUAVE
SOPHISTICATED
full of
SAVOIR FAIRE

None of these words apply to me.

I am just a small-town boy with a touch of autism, who has managed to read enough to know how the other half 95% lives, and how they expect me to act and behave.  If the wife hadn’t decided that I needed someone to civilize me, I probably wouldn’t be married.

I have managed to dine at a few somewhat upscale restaurants without embarrassing myself or my companions too badly, but I should not be let loose near anything labeled fête or gala.  I can’t even tell the difference between white ties and black ties, much less how to wear them, when, and where.

For a couple of years in high school I wore a string-, or bolo-tie to the few dances and parties that I attended – and didn’t wonder why the females wanted nothing to do with me.  In the first half of my working life, when I was a number of varieties of cube-drone, I wore clip-on ties.

One day, I stopped for a cooling beverage (or several) after work, at a place artistically nicknamed The Pit, which just happened to have entertainment which involved the removing of clothing.  I got a seat right up front – ‘cuz my eyes were weak.  One of the sluts strippers Exotic Dancers decided that she wanted to drag me up on the stage.  She grabbed my tie and pulled.  She ended up with it in one hand, and a bemused look on her face.  Of course, I had to burn the tie, by the time she was done with it.

My idea of “sophistication” is to order bottled beer that is opened at my table, rather than take my chances of being roofied by on-tap lager.  Don’t get me started about cocktails, or even ‘mixed drinks.’  If it’s any more complex than rye and cola, it’s outside my wheelhouse.

I’ve long since given up the bolo ties but, despite their connotation and connection to County-Western Music – which I abhor – I continue to wear, what other people call ‘Cowboy boots’, through almost 53 years of marriage.  What I wear is not what others might refer to as ‘Biker boots’ either, although they served to protect my lower legs for 25 years, when I rode an assortment of rice-burner motorcycles.

It’s too bad I wasn’t born rich, instead of so God-damned handsome.  Maybe one of the Hilton or Astor families might have polished me a little bit.  More likely, I’d have just wound up like Billy Carter, the embarrassment to President Jimmy Carter.  We could have had a few beers together, only…. Despite endorsing Billy Beer, in private, he drank Pabst.

Stop back in a couple of days, and I’ll have another story about old guys sitting around, drinking beer, and taking over the world.  I’ll lay in some local, micro-brew dark ale that we can share.   😀

Flash Fiction #235

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

YOU CAN’T GET THERE FROM HERE

How do you get to the K-W Oktoberfest Parade??!
Well, I wouldn’t start from here.

Summer road construction diversions were completed in time for the autumn detours.

Just go around the big COVID Obstruction, then straight through the Bicycle Virtue-Signalling Snafu, where 5000 traffic cones have produced cycling lanes, but reduced miles of four-lane major streets to two-lane parking lots.

Seating in beer tents will be every third chair, and special Pandemic masks, with little holes to drink beer through straws will be provided.

Extra test kits, and extra hospital staff, will be on hand.  Have fun, but stay safe.  👿

***

I published a post some years ago, https://archonsden.wordpress.com/2012/07/30/you-cant-get-there-from-here/ with the above title, describing traffic problems on local streets, which were laid out by cattle, rather than surveyors.  The City has gotten bigger, but so have the traffic problems.

Last year, we had 700,000 people attend Oktoberfest in 9 days.  At this time, the 2020 Oktoberfest is still a go. with – what is hoped are – sufficient safeguards.  There will be no parade, and fest-halls will not be as crowded as elevators.  The Oktoberfest Committee seem to be hoping that COVID – rather than a chunk of the population – will be dead by Canadian Thanksgiving, or a vaccine available.

My home is out on the West side of town, so that prevailing winds should blow any infection away from me.  I’ve installed HEPA filters on the air intakes, and won’t be leaving the house for over a week.  😆

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple https://rochellewisoff.com/ site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

What A Difference A Day Makes

Click to hear Dinah Washington sing my title song

Apparently taking a day off is not something you should do when you work for a calendar company.

Jokes about PMS are NOT funny. Period.

Two Wi-Fi antennas got married last Saturday. The reception was fantastic.

***

I called the paranoia hotline the other night.
Some guy answered and said, “How did you get this number?”

***

I challenged the number 1 to a fight. He brought his friends 3, 5, 7, and 9. The odds were against me.

***

New scientific evidence says that each beer takes 9 minutes off your life.
According to my calculations, I died sometime in September 1845

***

I didn’t mean to push all your buttons. I was just looking for Mute.

***

A fellow-blogger said that she just found out that her sister’s spirit animal is a dickdick. Being a guy, my spirit animal is just a dick. Her sister’s spirit animal is actually a Dik-Dik, but that’s just my spirit animal being a dick.

***

My life hasn’t been the same since the accident.
Co-worker; What accident?
The one where I got my finger caught in that wedding ring.

***

The wife and I had been sitting in the living room for some time. She said, “My butt’s asleep.” I said, “I know. I heard it snore three times.”

***

My wife was feeling ‘frisky’ the other day. She called down from the bedroom, “Come upstairs and make love to me.” I replied, “I can’t do both.”

***

The wife said we’d have less arguments if I wasn’t so pedantic. I replied, “I believe you mean fewer.”

***

Relationships are a lot like algebra.
Ever look at your X, and wonder Y?

***

My son recently went to his doctor. The doctor said, “You’re going to have to stop masturbating.” The son asked why. “So that I can examine you.”

***

The Grandson’s wife was angry at him. I said, “What did you do now?” “I remembered the car seat, the stroller and the diaper bag. She can’t understand how I forgot the baby.”

***

I’m so old, my doctor is a Paleontologist.

***

The Three Unwritten Rules Of Life

1:
2:
3:

***

A papa mole, a mama mole, and a baby mole, all live together in a little mole hole.

One day, papa mole sticks his head out of the hole, sniffs the air and said,’ Yummy! I smell maple syrup!’

The mama mole sticks her head out of the hole, sniffs the air and said, ‘Oh, Yummy! I smell honey!’

Now baby mole is trying to stick his head out of the hole to sniff the air, but can’t because the bigger moles are in the way.

This makes him whine, ‘Geez, all I can smell is…

…………………………MOL ASSES!’

***

Young Love Gone Wrong

For 20 years, they were deliriously happy…. Then they met.
Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.     😳

Once upon a time, I lost a girlfriend. It wasn’t a century ago, but it was well back in the last century.

When I graduated high school, I moved 100 miles away to take my first job. It wasn’t long before it was apparent – at least to me – that the long-distance romance wasn’t going to work. Jeff Foxworthy speaks of, “If she hasn’t yet saddled up and ridden a new horse, she’s at least pulled one from the barn, and put a bridle on him.” My friends never mentioned that to me. I broke it off – by letter – just before Christmas. She wasn’t lonely for long.

I had just turned 19. Her new beau was almost 21. He had a job as a mechanic. He made more money than I did. He had a car. She traded up – or did she??! The new fella was the kind described as ‘known to police.’ She had a 16-year-old younger brother. By Valentine’s Day, he had sold the kid a switchblade knife – probably a $3/$4 piece of junk, that he charged $5 for.

The home was ruled by a nasty, judgmental mother, only one reason I decided to call it quits. All 6 of the children were a bit sharp – or brittle – especially this youngest, with something to prove. He couldn’t attract a girlfriend, but wanted to go to the high school’s big Easter Dance.

Since he didn’t have a partner, he asked the new boyfriend if he could provide a little liquid courage. Back then, you had to be 21 to purchase alcohol, but he knew a fellow, and provided a Mickey (13 Oz.) of lemon gin. The kid spiked his own punch at the party, and was soon roaring drunk – yelling and swearing, and pawing girls.

The science teacher, the male chaperone, approached him, and told him that he must leave. This was his first drinking experience. He didn’t know how to act. He loudly insisted that he would not leave. The teacher reached to take his arm or shoulder, to escort him out…. and he pulled the switchblade!

If he had just left, everything would have quietly disappeared. Now they had to call the cops! He wasn’t arrested, but they confiscated the knife, and called his parents to pick him up. The policeman asked him where he’d got the knife, and the liquor. Too immature to keep his mouth shut, he quickly named the new boyfriend.

The next day, they pulled him over. With probable cause, they searched the car, found an unopened case of beer in the trunk, and charged him with underage possession.

Our town was a ‘County Town,’ not the county capital. That was 30 miles away. We got a circuit judge, and every Wednesday was court day. Nicknamed the Hangin’ Judge, he had seen the evils of Demon Rum, and had a hatred for alcohol. This was Carrie Nation’s husband.

I don’t know whether he came to hate booze before, or because, he became a judge. The latter was quite possible, with all the drunken tourists, and drunken Indians from the nearby reservation.

The boyfriend pled guilty, and the misdemeanor penalty was a fine, and a criminal record. The judge wanted to get higher up this bootlegging ladder, and demanded to know where he had got the beer. “I found it in a ditch.” “Well, I hope you found a month down there with it, ‘cause you’re going to do 30 days in the county slammer.”

He’d kept quiet about his supplier, but, even sober, he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Hell, I can do 30 days, standin’ on my head.” “That’s contempt of court. Here’s another 30 days, to get you back on your feet.” Suddenly that Archon boy was looking real good – but I was long gone.

’19 A To Z Challenge – W

 

 

All right everyone, put down your Magic Potions texts, grab your Butter Beer, and we’re off to visit Harry Potter’s friends

Witch

a person, now especially a woman, who professes or is supposed to practice magic or sorcery; a sorceress. Compare warlock
a woman who is supposed to have evil or wicked magical powers:

Wizard

a person who practices magic; magician or sorcerer.
a conjurer or juggler.

Also whiz, wiz. a person of amazing skill or accomplishment:

Warlock

a man who professes or is supposed to practice magic or sorcery; a male witch; sorcerer.

a fortuneteller or conjurer.

Wyvern

a two-legged winged dragon having the hinder part of a serpent with a barbed tail.

It is one of the vagaries of the English language, that many of the things in Harry Potter’s world begin with the letter W. Aside from the examples above, there are also his magic Wand, his friends and support, the Weasley family – whose forebears came from the village of Westleigh – one of whom, Ginny, (Virginia) became his wife.

Want to know what I’ve dreamed up for the letter X?? You’ll have to wing back over in a couple of weeks. Don’t make me get out my Attraction Spells scroll. 😉 😀

***

Last year, for my Q for quilts challenge post, I showed a picture of the winner in the local Mennonite Relief Auction.  While complex and impressive, I much prefer the recently announced winner of this year’s contest. I like bold blues and geometric shapes, and this one has both.  It’s called Fire Island Hosta Queen.  Here’s a picture of it – do you like it too?

’19 A To Z Challenge – P

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Down here at Honest Archon’s Amusement Academy, we’re overstocked with humor. We have a

PLETHORA

of jokes. We have to clear this place to the bare walls.   Today only, for the first fifty people who read this blog-post, we are giving away, absolutely free, 1 refurbished Blonde joke, and 2 brand-new Knock-Knock jokes. Here’s a partial catalog of our jokes. Come get ‘em while they’re hot.

***

There’s a fine line between a numerator, and a denominator.
Only a fraction of people will get that joke.
I’m divided on it.

***

Friend; I heard a great joke the other day, but I don’t know whether I told you.
Me; Is it really funny?
Friend; Yes.
Me; Then you haven’t

***

When I was young, people told me that if I drank 5 glasses of milk, I’d grow up strong and be able to move walls.
Now that I’m older, I can drink 10 pints of beer, and the walls move all by themselves

***

I’ve reached that age where my brain goes from, “You probably shouldn’t say that.” to, “What the Hell, let’s see what happens.”

***

Yes, I walked away mid-conversation. You were boring me to death, and my survival instinct kicked in.

***

There is no “We” in fries!

***

I wanted to be some hot chick’s sugar daddy, but I can only afford to be an artificial sweetener daddy.

***

Be the reason someone smiles today.
Or the reason they drink.
Whatever works.

***

When someone says, “Expect the unexpected” slap them and say, “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

***

AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY ONE-LINE

My wife is still hot….
….It just comes in flashes now

November 1^st….
….National Eat Your Kids’ Halloween Candy after they’ve gone to bed day

It’s all fun and games….
….till Santa checks the naughty list

The first step is admitting you’re a problem

I used to suffer from soap addiction….
….but I’m clean now

Butterflies….
….are not what they used to be

For every action….
….there’s an over-reaction

Where there’s a will….
….there’s a won’t

What do you call a belt made of watches?….
….A waist of time

She only made whiskey….
….but I loved her still

Electricians have to strip….
….to make ends meet.

In search of fresh vegetable puns….
….Lettuce know

My internet was down yesterday so I chatted with my wife for a change….
….I was surprised to learn that she didn’t work for Woolworths anymore.

A proverb walks into a bar, and then leaves almost immediately….
….The bartender mutters, “It goes without saying.”

A probability walks into a bar….
….and the bartender wonders, “What are the chances?”

A déjà-vu walks into a bar and sits down….
….The guy beside her says, “Haven’t I seen you somewhere?”

What do I have up my sleeve for the letter Q?? Stop back later to find out. 😀

 

Involuntary Loner

I lost my brother recently. Thanx for the condolences, but he’s still alive. I just don’t know where the Hell he is.

I am content to be surrounded only by immediate family, and a tiny group of online friends. This is a cautionary tale about seniors growing older, isolated and alienated from society. (Visit your Grandma in the home!)

My grandson is getting married, and we tried to invite my brother to the wedding. His landline number had been disconnected, and his cell phone number had been assigned to someone else.

My daughter contacted his daughter through Facebook, and a sad, protracted tale of woe came to light. He had turned into a grumpy old man with no friends, although it wasn’t clear whether he was grumpy because he had no friends, or had no friends because he was so grumpy – perhaps a bit of both.

His wife left him and divorced him some years ago. He moved 25 miles, to a small village, to be near his older daughter. Within a year, she disappeared, moving out without telling anyone where she went.

The younger daughter admitted that she had been preoccupied with kids going into teenage-hood, and a small, retail business that she runs. His old buddy, “24 beers in a case/24 hours in a day” Norm, hadn’t stopped in to see him in over 5 years. We didn’t improve things, because, despite the wife’s nagging gentle reminders, I hadn’t phoned him in almost 3 years.

He had a lady friend-with-benefits for several years, but he was retired, with time to drive to Florida, and spend some time there in the winter. She had just started a home-cleaning business, with a growing list of clients, who she couldn’t leave hanging, so she also left him.

He had a guy that he’d gone to school and worked with, who would split on gas and motel rooms to attend curling bonspiels in Ottawa, and North Bay. But he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and brother finally called him a God-damn asshole, and dumped him.

There was a pair of male twins his age who used to give him some time, but neither one was interested in curling, and no longer wanted to car-pool and drive 500 miles to watch a NASCAR race. He never read, and he didn’t own a computer.

There was mention of “some trouble with a neighbor” (or neighbors), and apparently what passed for a village council, couldn’t, or wouldn’t, solve his problem. Suddenly, one day, he put his house on the market, sold it and just moved away.

His younger daughter says that she knows physically where he is, and has a telephone number. When she found out about his decision, she tried to contact him. He felt betrayed and abandoned. He said, “Screw all of you! If you weren’t there for me when I needed you, I’m not going to be there for you. The Government knows where I am. The rest of you can go to Hell. I don’t want to be bothered. Don’t give my contact information to anyone.”

My Mother used to say, about his sulking moods, “He just wants to go out in the garden and eat worms.” I am sorry that he feels betrayed and abandoned, and the situation that he’s in. He and I have led very different lives. For obvious reasons, we were never close, but I’ll still miss him.

I’ve Run Out Of Punny One-Liner Titles

For chemists, alcohol is not a problem….
….It’s a solution.

Despite the high cost of living….
….it remains popular.

I before E, except after C….
….disproved by Science

Please cancel my subscription….
….to your issues

Lif is too short

Couldn’t claustrophobia be cured by just thinking outside the box?

Some people are wise….
….some are otherwise

We’ll, we’ll, we’ll….
….if it isn’t autocorrect

Rick O’Shea….
….Is a bulletproof Irishman

My relationship with whiskey….
….is on the rocks

I hate it when people accuse me of lolly-gagging….
….when I’m clearly dilly-dallying.

After my friend turned vegan….
….it was like I’d never seen herbivore

My wife says I’m the cheapest person she’s ever met….
….I’m not buying it

If a midget smokes weed….
….does he get high, or just medium?

I accidentally handed my wife a glue-stick, instead of a Chap Stick….
….She still isn’t talking to me

Some people are like clouds….
….When they go away, it’s a brighter day

What’s black and never works?….
….Decaffeinated coffee, you racist

Life and beer are very similar….
….Chill for best results

Terrible summer for Humpty-Dumpty….
….but he had a great fall

I’m diagonally parked….
….in a parallel universe

Neither Fish Nor Fowl

Canada became metric in 1973….  Or did it??!

So, there was Canada, wedged between England and the United States.  We measured things with the Imperial System – all except where the British 160 ounce gallons, the 40 ounce quarts, and the 20 ounce pints became the wimpy, American Lite 128 oz. gallons, 32 oz. quarts, and 16 oz. pints – and except where you bought a pint of beer, and it was only 12 ounces.

In “Metric” Canada, you can’t buy a pound of butter; you get a 454 gram block.  The wife’s Not-Legally-Pint and Quart glass canning jars are 473ML, and 946ML.  A 12 American ounce can of Pepsi is 355ML in Canada.  At least Canada is not alone in this No-Man’s-Land.  I recently found that the serving ‘Standard’ for beer in Australia is 256ML – or, an 8-ounce cup.  The only time an Aussie bar ever serves just 8 ounces, is to some opal-miner’s 10-year-old daughter.

The weather forecast on the radio doesn’t say that we’ll get an inexact 2 to 3 centimeters of snow, it says that we’ll receive 2 ½ centimeters, because the old guy at Environment Canada still says that it’ll snow an inch.

I thought that all this back and forth might confuse immigrants who are thoroughly embedded in the Metric System, but the Polish women at the EuroFoods store seem to be just as capable of dishing out 300 grams of sliced salami, as they are ¾ of a pound.

We’ve only been at this Metric thing for 45 years now, and with typical Canadian lack of determination, we still haven’t fully committed to it.  This is about the softest conversion that I’ve ever seen.  I wonder if there’s some type of Metric Viagra that could firm things up a bit.  😆

As usual, I hope to see you here again in a couple of days.  Now, let’s see.  In Metric, that’s….  😳  Oh well, come back whenever you like.

Flash Fiction #144

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

WATCH YOUR TONGUE

It was a fantastic idea, inspired, as many fantastic ideas were, by the liberal application of beer. He had decided to make chili as the snack for his turn to host the guys’ Friday poker bash.

He liked his food with a little heat to it….and surely his buddies would too. He put in lots of chili powder, and several shakes of Tabasco.  Maybe he’d add some of this stuff his mother’d given him.

Hmm, Scotch Bonnet Pepper?? Bonnets??  Thanks Mom.  Probably some delicate old schoolmarm spice.  He’d add a good tablespoonful.

Dig in guys. It’s got a little kick.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

***

I’ve finally come full circle and am now plagiarizing from myself. This is a re-imagining of my #46, Four Alarm Flash Fiction story of April 16, 2015.  Sorry guys.  I couldn’t help myself.  When I saw all those spewing fire hoses outside the frat house, it was either that, or a “cold shower” story.