Charlywalker's Blog

My daughter’s boyfriend bought an item for me to use on my Puppy. It is something that has been advertised on the late night barkers channel and plastered all over a coupon on the back page of a grocery store flyer. It is a battery operated device that is suppose to control your dogs incessant barking by using high frequency waves that can only be detected by dogs. Or , possibly your sixteen year old son.

This three inch plastic made-in-a-remote-area-of-cheapness, houses a nine volt battery and emits a high frequency sound that resonates every time your dog barks. There are two levels that occur in this cycle of transparent noise: High and Low.

This small appliance is the size of a cell phone and operates up to twenty feet away. It is a remote tool which ends up in various places much like the remote from my T.V. in the family room. My remote for the television has legs because it wanders aimlessly throughout the house. I found a lovely basket to place all the entertainment apparatus which sits atop the coffee table one foot from the couch, which means a mere outstretched- arms -reach could cover the radius of placing the remote in it’s proper place. It is a simple convenience accompanied by simple science, but aggravated by lazy couch potatoes who have a “control” issue. They find it adhered to their palm and it winds up in areas that could possibly never find any reception, like the bathroom, or under the sofa cushion, or God forbid, in one’s suitcase.

Our new “Bark-B-Gone” toy travels with us from room to room as the dog follows clasping his paws over his ears. This little receptive instrument does not give any implication that it is on and working. There is no LED light blinking, there is no sound resonating, there are no beeps , blips, or flashes to insinuate it is in working order. This piece of PETrochemicals just sits and stares into the rooms without focusing on a target, very much like I do at times.

My puppy started his seven o’clock ritual of barking at air and this “bark-no-more” piece of crap did nothing but glare at a wall with its seeing eye glazed over. It wasn’t until I walked over and plucked it from its holster and steadily held it above my pup like a priest holding a cross over Emily Rose that my dog Charly turned his head around and ignored  the “Bark-Never-Again” contraption. And  only then,  did his right ear slowly raise like an antenna on an old Rambler sedan. That seem to have lasted a mere second as he turned his head around and continued his conversation with the drapery patterns.

I had rendered this thing useless until my sixteen year old son came stumbling down the stairs with his palms covering both ears and screaming at me to to “turn off the high pitch sound”.  I managed to quiet the pup yet my son was still holding his head and complaining about the white noise in the room. I told him that Charly is actually WHITE  with black spots.

At that moment I realized my son has a sensitivity to electromagnetic high frequency waves which could cause irrefutable damage to his hearing. (I’m sure his blasting Slipknot and Eminem through his Skull Candy from his Ipod mini at 300 decibels isn’t an issue). I just realized that my son could hear the noise from the mute plastic box that was meant for my dog’s ears. I just realized that he woke up before noon stumbling down to where this little toy box sat on the kitchen counter and utter a nearly complete sentence at me to “shut off that sound, it’s hurting his ears“.

That SOUND that my dog would scoff at and “no one else could hear”, the ad stated……..

I just realized that this $9.99 special from QVC could retrieve my son from farther than twenty paces at a rabbits pace, and the setting was on “low”.

I Just realized I now hold the secret to life. The secret of getting a “teen” up and on time for school in the morning…….


Some one saw my blog and made a constructive critical acclaim to the way it looked.  She said that it didn’t have enough “zip” to it and that I “needed to add more ambiance and eye-catching glitter”.  I told her to put down her Rose` colored wine glasses and just try to enjoy the humor of it all.  I happen to like the dark-haired green and black cartoon version of a silhouette that keeps reminding me of what my body looked like twenty years ago.

I haven’t blogged for quite sometime due to the fact that I was actively pursuing some academics that might help me further a career that was lying dormant over thirty years ago.  After getting my fifty-something year old carcass out of bed at 5:00 a.m., and jumping into a sassy saffron uniform with the school logo stitched over my left breast, and downing a cappuccino while racing the other commuters in the dark to board a freezing train that wreaked of diesel and radiated loud gum popping cell phone addicts in the quiet car and after brandishing 29 credits for three months and harvesting sleepless nights, watching the dust and grime host a no swifter party in my house, and neglecting my children ( who barely noticed between their social life and Ipods that I was missing), and, worst of all, forgetting that I owned a dog.

I missed passing a required course by two points in order to continue on with the program.

I thought that if I resurfaced a career I would be helping the family income during these bouts of economic hardships. Instead, I found that my economics were becoming even harder while aspiring to achieve greatness.  After calculating the cost of this venture and weighing the outcome of age vs. job opportunity, while finding myself crying over spilt Martilnelli 2008 Pinot Noir, daily,… and realizing that I am not smarter than a fifth grader,…I decided to do what any normal red-blooded hormonal woman would do:

I booked a trip to Italy.  Isn’t that where all the menopausal misfits run off to during a time of reputable failure? As my neighbor so eloquently put it to me over her lovely pomegranate martini’s: Ah hell, you didn’t want to be a nurse any way..fuck em’.. No truer words spoken out of an elegant pearl clad mouth..

The beauty of this departure from my academic whirlwind is that is brought me back to the basics of what my purpose may be in life. Even though my children are growing and heading into the adult world, they still need me. They have been use to their mother hanging about and being at their beck and call throughout their lives. As much as it appeared that they were fine without me being at the helm, I could see that they were not. They watched as their mother turned into a maniacal obsessed text-book worm letting the responsibilities of the days slip into the abyss. They witnessed mommy breakdown’s from the pressure of not being able to tackle her Medication Math and Calculate with Confidence.  We were a family of a traveling husband, teens in action, a mom running amok, and Charly-dog bearing the brunt and being locked up for hours, alone, in his room, with a night-light and food and water and an August issue of The Enquirer spread out on the floor. There was only so much that Charly could take, and peeing on yesterday’s news was his limit…  I’m sure Charly felt dejected and unwanted until someone came home from their daily activity and he was freed from his laundry room habitat and able to roam the great out doors to relieve himself.

My children are very capable individuals, and that is one trait that I am proud of.  My children will survive in this world and make wonderful lives for themselves with out me in tow.  My dog, however, I worry about.  I think about him when I’m away, I think about his well-being, I think about whether he is tearing up the wicker basket in the laundry room, or has dived into the pile of dirty clothes waiting to be washed and torn into every sock of every family member that has abandoned him for the day.  I think about him possibly sitting in is doggie bed staring at the white walls holding his hind legs with his front paws and rocking back and forth seething and thinking hate barks.

These things weigh on my mind more than one knows, which is why I probably missed passing the school program by two lousy points. But I will say this, when I came home every day and sometimes into the night and opened Charly’s door, I was met with a wide-eyed, waggy tailed, sausage-shaped, tongue licking my face Mongrel that is irreplaceable and doesn’t care if I pass or fail,  only that I returned home.

Sometimes life does funny things to a person, like taking a 4.0 graduate and mashing them into elementary mush making them wrap their entire being around  the word stupid. And sometimes is takes a mangy flea-bag tail-wagger to pull you out of your Picasso Blue period and pounce to a different tune, a tune where you work like a dog and you don’t have a dog’s chance to be a Top dog, so you’re thrown to the  dog’s, only to return with your tail between your legs.

And sometimes you just have to face the inevitable and break open that vintage 1989 Chateauneuf du Pape that has been collecting dust in your wine cabinet awaiting that special dog day afternoon…….

I’m off to the Tuscan sun (37 degrees) in 12 days and I am starting to feel elated. There is still a big part of me that harbors a shroud of anxiety at the thought of leaving my quasi adult children to roam in my home sans mommy. That is why I am a big supporter of Neighborhood Watch.

This is no ordinary watch where the “hood” posts glow- in- the -dark signs on dead trees only to be read by  passing fluorescent headlights; this is a watch that includes designated specialized attention from lovely neighbors who volunteer to randomly check in at my house unannounced on Friday and Saturday nights dangling their secret key.

This action keeps my teens on High Alert.  Kind of like Publishers Clearing house ,  the way the marketing Team of Todd Sloan and Associates  keep a close eye on the prospective winner before they pounce on them to present a  a giant cardboard check during halftime at the Super Bowl.  The contestant has an inkling of being followed but writes it off as a minor paranoia accompanied by an occasional hallucination of a Navy Blue Van.  It’s the same feeling I inject into my Teens when I plan to go away for a few days; that feeling of someone possibly stopping by for a cup of sugar at midnight who entertains the same suspicious glare unlike myself….That look that can clear any house of unwanted public

Needless to say it helps a mom sleep comfortably at night when she is out of town, far, far, away, sipping her Chianti Classico with a side of Fava beans…

I have lived in many a neighborhoods throughout this fine country and I have to say that where I have landed now harbors some of the most eclectic group of people, and I enjoy everyone of  them. Well, almost everyone of them.  There are some that have gotten lost in translation, which can happen when you live close to one another over a five year span. It’s a lot like having room mates at times. Some you enjoy sharing your intimate pasts and some are just too high maintenance and add too much drama to an already infused Camille society.

I no longer have issues with whether or not I like my neighbors, I have a sixth SCENTS in regards to  people. Albeit..Charly. I now leave that ability, in my dogs paws. Charly has a great sense of ” I don’t like you ” smell. He is very protective of our domain and lashes out at the ones he feels are a threat ,and  yet,on the other paw, he acts like a bouncer at Club Rave and sorts through the melee with his snout in the air, and upon his approval, let’s them pass through the threshold with a tail wag.

I think dogs have a sense of self worth and who is worth sensing. Sometimes Charly-dog has a gaze that looks through your soul and if he could verbalize to someone he would be spouting worse than a tea kettle on high.  Charly is relentless when it comes to visitors that rub him the wrong way. He is a high strung combination of a couple of breeds that should never have mixed in the first place, yet when he chooses who he wants to befriend, he is all over them like a cheap suit licking last nights after shave off their satin cheek.

Personally, I think my dog has better judgment of a persons character than I do.  When I walk him around the “hood” he has  become very selective as to which car he wants to chase after. It use to be all cars, but now as he watches them drive by he methodically watches and contemplates which neighbor’s vehicle is going to get the Charly rant.  Funny, it always ends up to be the same ones. And , oddly enough, they happen to be the neighbors I can no longer tolerate other than a passing wave from my free hand. Keeping it on the down-low… Now on the other hand, Charly charges towards the ones he likes. It’s all about the scent.  Think about it, does anyone really like a not-so nice-smelling- person?  I think my dog is on to something that Freud or Jung never tapped into: The aura of aroma.

As long as the sniffing stays above the waist………………

{May 22, 2011}   Handwriting is on the Blog

I recently watched a movie the other night that happens to be one of my favorites; it’s called The Bucket List.  It’s a movie about a list of things a person wants to fulfill before they “kick the bucket”.  It made me think: Why would a person wait til they are about to die before they think about doing  the things they really wanted to do while living?  I have always done whatever I set out to do.  I personally think my bucket list was handed to me in my Rubbermaid pail when I was able to walk; along with the matching shovel.  I learned at an early age to kick your bucket aside and use your shovel to bat the sh*t that flies off the fan…………I was an intense toddler.

  I had a list of things written in crayon that I wanted to accomplish, which I did, and I’m still not finished.   I think when my time comes and I will be asked about the “things I wanted to do, but never got to”,   I will probably just respond with:  “I’ve done them thank you, now go fix me a dry martini and change the channel on the TV to Mob Wives…I’m tired of listening to that Sajak guy  blowing vowels out his ass…”.

This “Bucket List” topic sparked my interest one night while catching an episode of the Wheel- of -Fortune.  I like that show. I get to watch Vanna White grow old in designer gowns. She keeps getting thinner and thinner and before you know it they’ll be rolling in her Versace on a skeleton wearing a blond wig.  Pat Sajak will drop his choppers on the Wheel bending over to spin and gumming out the letters for the Bonus Round: “O.K.  Vanna, gimme an R-Eth-Teeth-L-N-Eeeeeeeee”( that’s Pat suffering  vowel incontinence).

The “Bucket List” came up while Pat was doing his 30 second interview with the contestants.   One girl mentioned she had a “Bucket List” and that she has completed most of it, (mind you, this girl was attractive and I assume in the mid 20’s range of age).  I asked out loud: “Why would someone so young be concerned about something like that at such a youthful time in their life?”.  No one answered me because I was watching the show alone with my dog.  If my pooch  did respond to  me……well…. then…..I guess I would have to face the obvious:

….that being,…my stray came from the same litter as David Berkowitz’ dog…………

This vibrant young lady seemed thrilled to tell the world she had a “Bucket List” on national T.V.  while the other two candidates  just gave “shout outs” to their peeps and dispensed free advertising to their workplace.  I still couldn’t shake the notion of this unseasoned woman and her  desire to do what exhausted elderly accede to teetering on their last leg.  The strong leg.  The one that has to kick the bucket.

But then..WHAM!  It hit me like a ton of bad lyric’s thrown by George Michaels; (no, not wake me up before you go-go..)..

Why not pursue a “Bucket List” because you want to; not because yo think you feel pressured to.  Life is a bucket of cherries waiting for you to take a bite and spit the pits back into your pail……….with or without dentures.  I think this Wheel lady had it down to a science and mapped out her  List constructed to fulfill her Fortunate life.  I think she was sending a message over the airwaves to entice the audience to re-think this “Bucket List” operandi.  Maybe make this list accessible to youngsters who complain too much about their cell phones not being the latest model.  Maybe we should make a Bucket List mandatory and have it notarized and produce them adjacent to a birth certificate to hand out to the next generation.  Maybe this Bucket List will start with small ventures, like:

1) I will be potty trained before I reach pre-school

2) I will brush my teeth as often as the dentist tells me to after my braces are applied.

3) I will complete my homework and hand it in on time.

4) I will not exceed the speed limit when I’m 16 while carrying a freshly pressed driver’s license.

5) I will not party to excess in college and wake up kneeling over the porcelain god sporting a tattoo I don’t remember getting in Vegas…

6) I will listen to my parents and take out my Ipod earphones when doing so…..

7) I want my Laundry List completed first…

8) I will kick the bucket if it’s left in the middle of the hallway full of dirty water for me to trip over…..

Oh this list could go on until I kick the bucket, but apparently buckets are hard to find these days since the cleaning lady switched to the Wet Jet Mop.    I guess we’ll have to change ‘Bucket List” to “Swiffer Starter Kit”.

spread the humor

I have just received an  incredible Honor in the blogging world which was passed on to me by:

She awarded(?) me with the “Versatile Blogger Award”, and upon receiving this I would just like to say” Thank You very much…… and You like me, you really, really like me…..well Sandy says she does……….”

I am not familiar with this award, but none the less, it is something that I can hopefully add to my resume of achievements along with learning to change diapers, taxiing teens, spoon feeding life into my family, conquering menopause without taking out a post office, and avoiding my puppy’s plot in trying to kill me……..

I have found that everything in life does come with strings attached…my children entered that way….and with accepting this award there are rules that must be obeyed and conveyed.

First: I must post the Link that nominated me:

Secondly: List 7 random things about myself………So….here’goes:

1) The Girl in Green that is posted on my blog is a silhouette of my body 20 years ago……(you just scrolled up..didn’t you…)

2) Charlywalker is not my real name…..although I’m thinking of changing it to avoid creditors….

3) I live in Levi’s, loafers without socks, cashmere sweaters, and a HootersAir cap hosting a pony tail….

4) I will retire under the Tuscan Sun….even if it’s the name of a local restaurant…..

5) Speak, Write, Serve me anything in Italian and I’m all over you like a cheap suit……………

6) I like funny. Anything Funny.  I like people who like funny………

7) I will continue to uphold my motto: Spread The Humor………..

Now there are many people and blogs I’d like to post but the rules of engagement are to list only 15.  I have 52 blogs I would love to tout so if you could find it in your blog-hearts to nominate me 3.742 more times I would be able to give them all a  just due mentionable…..

Thirdly: I Google(d) the definition of versatile and it states: “capable of doing many things competently; having varied uses or serving many functions; changing or fluctuating readily”.  I can state that by this definition, Versatile applies to many bloggers, but you will never find me fluctuating in public.  Here are my first fifteen:                               

Now, just in case I missed a few:



belleofthecarnival,kimeling,cdewine,Thevividwriter,coopernicus,cheeseschipsandgravyplusfootball, thedailydish,artswebshow,brokenalabasterbottle,cocorivers,oldbentnail,theteachingwhore,joysinmylife,


Normalstepfather,Martinimaidens,Ocinthered,Onemixedbag,momintraining13,pccadvantage,oh, and Salt & Pepper(?).

And all the SPAM one blog can NOT allow…….

Thank You.

Charlywalker…….spread the humor.

Ain’t marriage grand? Don’t you just love the long silent pauses and passing each other by the bathroom like two ships in the night with only one fog horn that is actively tooting. Isn’t is amazing how twenty years can sneak by faster than gas escaping my husbands ass during an afternoon nap.  Much like I have been experiencing with my new puppy. Charly and my husband have many similarities that they don’t even know exist. They both run around on … Read More

via Charlywalker’s Blog

{May 7, 2011}   Blog It forward

I love Karma.  I used to think it was something that was oozing from the center of my Milky Way bar.

Lately I have been saddled with the Blahgs and lacking inspiration to write anything down.  I started to read other blogs to see if I could gather any pertinent information or  possibly a lead-in to strike some creative output.  Maybe hijack another blog and call it my own.  Maybe I could take parts of someones work and tie it into my blog, what(?), with all the millions of readers out there who will notice? I admire the blogger that can whip up words and blend them into a captivating story of nonsense.  I especially love the readers replies to the nonsense, begat(ting) more nonsense.  I love a readers comments that are nearly as long winded as the article. Personally I think they are looking to grab a little free real estate and advertising space. Maybe they do this because their writing just doesn’t contain that “zing” to grasp a readers attention.  Maybe they have too much time on their hands and have nothing better to do but coast and attempt to replicate some weird periodical.  Maybe they like to stalk their prey before they latch on to a site that is more notable than their own.  Maybe they’re alone and lonely and seek cyber socialization because crawling out from behind their computer is to scary for one to attempt solo.

I think when a blogger uses parts of someone’s work for their own personal gain could be considered  a form of flattery to the Blogster that came up with the concept.. If someone’s creative blog helped another blogger to blog something, well that’s just paying it forward and presenting a nice Karmic Keyboard.  Although, if this person chooses to continually gain inspiration from other blogs, what will become of the blogger should they no longer have that venue for their own amusement? What if the blogger they gain added insight from decides to stop blogging…will the writer fall short in their monologues and be at a  loss for topics?  Is stealing someone’s ideas a form of Blogsphemy that invites bad Karma.  Why is it called karMA?  Why be gender specific, why not call it karPA or karKids….

I like a good karma, it’s such a feeling of quintessential “goodness”, but how does it work? It has been described as memory coming into consciousness, or , one meets self, or a way to heal your past and commit to your present, or being a victim to hundreds of past lives.  Yikes, I’ll stick to my candy bar, it’s simpler.

My memory comes into consciousness every morning at 6:30 am when I wake my son from his teen coma and get him started to get his Self out of bed hosting eyes at half mast trying to meet his bowl of Cherios floating in a milky stream of consciousness. If he’s a victim of past lives, I may not live to finish this one.  The only way I can get him to commit to my present is if it’s gift wrapped and can be used on a snow covered mountain.   My family has had to deal with a lot of my past lives embedded in this present one.  I believe a few hundred house keepers have embodied my being in the past based on the hours of  upkeep needed to  keep up with a teenager.  I think I may have been a chauffeur or a Cabbie  in my former life.  I have driven all over this country and spent endless days and nights transporting  my children to their destinations du jour until they were able to drive themselves. I may have been a GPS system as well, because I can locate anything in this house that has been misplaced by family members.

But what brings about the bad Karma? Maybe stealing or cheating or being a lousy cook? Maybe some see this as a form of punishment. ( bad Karma that is, oh, and possibly being a lousy cook is punishment enough on my family).  Do we attract and repel certain experiences that bring about this Karma.  My dog attracts fleas, is that good karma? And if I chose to use repellent to obliterate the infestation is that considered bad Karma… My son attracts lots of teenage girls, is it bad karma to swat them off like flies so he can study for his SAT’s…

I dunno. So much to think about.  I think I’ll just retreat to reading other Blog’s and chew on chocolate until someone’s topic catches my eye and maybe spark some initiative onto my screen. Maybe I can copy right off a page or two…no that would be bad blog -karma…….

spread the humor.

{April 29, 2011}   In Cold Blog

I think my dog is out to kill me.  My mutt is a cross breed of Chi-hua-hua, Cocker Spaniel, and..after DNA testing, probably a little bit of Beagle.  I call him a Chaniel, pending the DNA results. If the bit of beagle comes into play then he will be a Speagle, or a Cheagle, or a Chow-wow..or he can  just remain on a shelf with the rest of the Chia -pets.  In the meantime I  think he may have also put a hit out on me.   While walking him one day ,a neighboring canine ran up and lifted his hind leg onto my Levi’s and then ran off.   More like a hit and run.

My Black and white miniature cow has been lurking around corners and staring at me through squinty-eyes.  He started to conceal his dog tags in between his teeth  like a bayonet and slither  through the Polyester Pile on his underbelly so I won’t hear them jingle when he sneaks up on me.  He lays across the room spread out in a full Monty  sleeping with one eye open.  I’ll take a break from the computer and stroll downstairs for a cup of java and find him already at the espresso machine foaming an additive into my cappuccino and slowly stirring the contents.  He was wearing the same facial expression of Hannibal Lecter when he offered Clarice a glass of wine….

My dog has been with us for nearly two years and we have had a despicable time of it lately.  I don’t know if this is a product of the “terrible twos” or maybe he’s having flashbacks of his “night of neutering”.  Maybe I needed to do a little more research on what happens to young pups who have their valves shut off so early in life.  Maybe I cut off a very important life line…....Maybe I’ll just phone a friend or ask the blogiance…  In the meantime his behavior is out of sorts and he is regressing back to his puppy-dom and completely obliterating any training he may have had in the past.   I tried enlisting him in the Marines but because he was a rescue of some kind we are unable to locate his birth certificate for verification. It seems I’ve pulled the trump card…….. Sending him to boot camp would be fruitless.  He defies authority and goes commando baring his canines;  and, thanks to my husband feeding him gourmet delicacies from Dean & DeLuca, he would never handle the canteen cuisine.  Plus I doubt the high ranking officials would allow him  to curl up like a cooked shrimp under their sheets in the officers quarters.

Lately my pup has been grabbing items from his toy basket and leaving them strategically about for me to trip and fall and ending up in the emergency room. Knowing my dog, he would  re-set the ambulance GPS to deliver me to his Vetinarian’s office.  Once I was comfortably situated on the family room floor watching the Dog Whisperer scream at a pair of Pit Bulls, and my precious pooch dragged his faux marrow bone and dropped it onto the top of my head.  This startled me to rise quickly and catch the corner of the coffee table with my right temple brandishing a two inch scrape above my right eye.  He pranced over to the corner carrying his rawhide in his smug mug leaving me behind to lick my own wounds.  Ha! in a pig’s ear…   

I can feel my pup watching me. His bulging eyes rotate around the room following every move I make ,exactly like the pictures  that hang in Disney’s Haunted Mansion. I just know he is planning my demise.  His favorite tactic is to jump on my chest when I am engrossed in sleep apnea and plant his poundage on my blood supply …I’m sure he’s trying to regulate my blood pressure to increase beyond repair.  This hound basks in his little villa parading around in all his black and white coat of Paws, and doesn’t think twice about trailing his kibble and bits down the main staircase knocking about like a pool of marbles.  He knows I run around barefoot throughout the house . He’s turning my feet into arch enemies with the hardwood floors.

I caught my pupster running off to a neighbor with a distress bark in his throat trying to get them to call the PETA hot line because I no longer set his dog dish by the glass  slider  so he can have a window seat during dinner.  He has their number on speed dial.   One  time a neighbor galloped over in a heated rush to check if the dog was  “alright”, because he had outlined “call 9-1-1” onto the  foggy window with his cold snout.  I reassured her that my puppy was fine and that he was just upset because the high humidity was causing his tail to curl up and fray on the ends….

My doggie likes to disappear out back when he is released into the fence-less yard. He likes to try to get out from under my view and hide behind the large pine trees and slink into the tall grass and watch me running circles around the house yelling his name in a panic.  One day I had him followed when he went on one of his escapades and he was later caught in a neighboring yard plotting with another raggedy mutt.  I think there may have been some treats exchanging in  little paws.  My dog was seen leaving with cookie contraband dangling from his snaggle-tooth.  I ran twenty-five minutes between houses before I could manage a noose around his neck.  Yeah..his tail was between his legs as I led him back to the gallows……

I was so angry I was sputtering single syllables like Porky Pig. I was walking so fast in a dither and spewing doggie expletives while dragging my mangy mutt to his den of inequity, that I failed to notice he was not on the other end of the leash.  Houdini managed to escape his full metal jacket.

I found him lounging in a chair on the Lido Deck extending a four-paw salute………catch me if you can….

He’s killing me….

{April 12, 2011}   The Blog Less Traveled

Is this venue a Blogularity contest of folks competing to be the best in Blog or is this just a case of diarrhea of the diatribe.  If someone were genuinely writing to express their emotions on, say, such subjects as motherhood or fatherhood, in hopes that their editorial would bequeath down to their offspring as a little light reading of parental aspirations….well…It just makes me reach for another round of Pomegranite Martini’s.  How much can a person endure and or find interesting of someones cutsie Kid anecdote,  Rumball remedies, or how one managed to be the greatest “whatever” they can be.  After scanning the Blog waves I have truthfully found that my attention span can not endure paragraphs that contain T.M.I. (Too Many Idio-syncrazies)   Some posts have me at Hello and some have lost me at the Title.

Maybe the blogging’s are individualized because they are vented around a personal genre that only the Blog-head that wrote them can understand or *get*.  oohh help me Obi- Blog-Kanobi…..

I *get* the posts displaying food, in fact, I get those cuisine commentaries so much that I put on ten pounds just drooling over them.  They are so life like that I cut and copy the articles and paste them onto my families dinner plates. If there were an aroma tab in the drop down menu I’d have it made…..

I *get* Blog-fomercials that instruct on the adversity of  the diversity of Chiropractic care of an unused clavicle and the pro’s and con’s of Transformer’s vs. Toy story.  I understand clicking on a useful site to gain pertinent info that might be useful to  our Blog alignment yet  can also carry us back to our childhood action figures. What I fail to *get* is the bait-n-switch routine once my mouse has clicked into the vast unknown.  Some of the deceptiveness has risen it’s ugly blog and turned into an advertisement for something that should enhance my life and enlarge my milieu. If I had one….a milieu that is…..

I *get* the ramblin’ blog who’s insight ,via their own eyesight, is the never ending story that temporarily perks my interest at The End.  I know love and life are hard…so are the other four letter words…….

I *get* the Sci-Fi and Mad Hatter routines using anonymous fillers for entertainment value to coerce a firing of rapid responses.  I’ll even throw in the Techno crowd-pleasers with their abundance of orchestrated graphics and pie charts.  ummm..pie (chart)..makes me want to return to the Food Blogwork…..

I *get* the poetry section?  Well I try to.  I can barely follow the alliteration of Dr. Suess‘ One Fish..Two Fish… I know that has a deeper meaning attached to it some where located on the Discovery channel.  I can follow the Blog-alligory  set in motion by the ingenious minds  masked behind a comic relief.  I GET humor. What I don’t get is someone so far removed that they don’t *get* the GET.  That could be a diagnostic dilemma in the getter or the getee….Hmm this proses a problem.

I *get* the travel section and reading about expeditions and exotic camping equipment , it’s riveting and has me on the edge of my Blog and makes me want to jump into an action packed Wrangler toward the end of the horizon. Although the scenic one’s that picture white sandy beaches and a coral reef  keeps me in a trance until my stomach growl’s…..which makes me return to the Food blog network…

I *get* the Kid’s periodicals on their growth charts and the parental expletives of the undertakings of their underlings.  I am particularly fond of the ghost writer posing as Dr. Spock, who blog-ly goes where no one has  blogged before.  I’d like to review those credentials….ohh were makin’ Wookieeee…

I *get* Humor.  The  Good,   The Bad, or The  Ugly….I *get* it.  The left brain function is logical enough to disentangle  the right brain creative force enabling the egghead to look at the whole picture in detailed funny.  Some folks can’t grasp the different depths of Funny…Lot’s of people are Off The Wall……Take Humpty Dumpty for instance…even he cracked up.

Well, if I had my say, which I do because this is my venue where I stand too tall in my platform shoes; I believe  most reader’s contain a humorous bone in their skeletal Blog. Even if the writings are subject(ive) to one’s own mind using a Forced energy to  Sabor our  thoughts throughout the Ja-wa sisterhood.

MUMBO-JUMBO NUMBER FIVE…..a little bit of blogging in my life…

OK, Release the menopausal dawgs and let’s commence with some raging bull.  How does one mother get her coed daughter to pick up her room?  A room that has been condemned by the board of health and contains chalk outlines of discarded clothing. I opted to employ a demolition crew but I am not quite ready  to renovate. And besides, I don’t think Ty Pennington and his escorts will handle  just ONE messy room.  I could just hear the extreme entourage now as they make it over to my spread wearing their designer denims and yielding a Holler Back megaphone:

“Good morning little rich kid in a fancy University!  Are you ready for me and my pals to sashay into that room of yours with our pink backhoe to bulldoze the floor in order to locate the closet to hang up some of your clothes?”.

I could just imagine the incredible sob saga now as  tearful Ty explains to his peeps how this “unfortunate college coed just can’t find the time to clean her room in between folding pizza boxes at work, shopping 24/7, and engaging in a free-floating night life; why this must devastate this child to come home at all hours of the night and find discarded Victoria undergarments lolly-gagging about withholding secrets and catering to dust bunnies.  We at Extreme Room Decor sympathize with this poor unfortunate college student who’s mother has been unable  to enter her room in two years without a crow bar. And what about the family pet that they thought was missing for two days but later surfaced nestled in with the neglected  stuffed animals garnishing the floor of the walk-in closet.  And imagine the humiliation felt when her brother posted a neon Yard Sale sign in her bedroom window flashing: Take This Crap Now….Yes folks, this is truly a site to behold. Never has the Extreme team ever been called upon to help this little darling sort  out her life and her laundry!”.

Well thank you Ty from the bottom of my scrub bucket.  But I really wanted to call the Swat team wearing their Hazmat suits to clean up this eye sore of toxic waistbands and T-shirts.  I have contributed enough money to the Government and I think for the first time I should utilize my tax dollars in a more constructive way.  Maybe I could get a special discount with the ATF as they send their German Shepherd’s in to confiscate  the Air soft pellets embedded in the rug that were misfired by my son. Maybe Greenpeace could rid this haven harboring hazardous candy wrappers oozing chocolate residue onto the hardwoods from Halloween Two.  Maybe I’ll give EcoNet a call to collect all the perfumed sprays and hair Gels lining the bathroom counter tops that clog up the household atmosphere .  I’ll AXE them about the pipes later. Hopefully they can impose a little clean air in that act. Yeah, then I can contact the Wilderness Society so they can control the population growth of all their loose socks, because they are now down to ZERO pairs.  Maybe notifying the Sierra Club will help to curb this nature vs Not- Picking -up -after -themselves-nurture and help stop the influence of the grass-roots growing under the Queen size beds.  I would also like them to assist in the scented oil spills concealed in the cabinet doors.  Yes, I think I am beginning to take a special interest in the undertakings of tackling this issue from a different standpoint.  I could exercise my right to take advantage of these organizations which were surely formed for the sake of a mother wanting peace of mind and a pristine sleeping area ,instead of the urge to throw a stick of dynamite onto an unmade bed heaped with last weeks attire. Maybe these organizations will back me as I ransack her room  and kick ass-ide the overgrowth of wet towels blanketing the bathroom floor. Maybe I’ll terminate her Land Rights and pull that filthy carpet right out from under her overstuffed laundry basket and see how she likes tripping over toppled shoes during the day.

Or maybe I’ll just help her move out in the Fall and condemn her to a life in a Dorm……………Payback, an Environmental Defense Mechanism.

This is dedicated to Sharon.

et cetera
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