Charlywalker's Blog

{March 1, 2010}   Put on the Blog

I have made an executive decision to try and post once a day to either drive my readers batty or have them asking for more….

Last night I had a dream about Bill Gates. I have had dreams of famous people before but never one of this caliber or fortuitous in nature. I don’t know why Mr. Gates decided to pop into my castle in the air, maybe it’s the menopause gods messing with my brain; but he did pop in and we were in his automobile. He was driving of course, and I was in the passenger seat.

This was not the car I actually found myself leaning on outside the Westin Hotel while waiting for the airport Taxi  one afternoon. In the dream, this auto was a very sleek Cadillac Escolade with tinted windows…

  I have never had the pleasure to meet Mr. gates. I have only seen pictures of him on integral publications. I knew his dad was a lawyer in Seattle like mine was and maybe they crossed paths a few times in the court house elevator to exchange briefs…….

Anyway….. as I was heading back to Los Angeles and awaiting a transport vehicle to pick me up along with the other less fortunate’s who couldn’t afford a cab, the “Sit-n-Wait” bench was occupied and I was left with standing room only. Nestled under the car port in the semi circular drive to the entrance of the Hotel I noticed a teal  colored Mercedes abandoned and parked close to the curb.  I mozied on over and leaned my too- tired-to-stand-anymore- rump against the rear fender with my leg  propped atop my Hartman carry- on; balancing  the Times to attempt a puzzle I started three days earlier. Just when I finished filling in an 11  letter word for Mega rich person who monopolizes the computer industry……….

I heard an attendant scatter about rustling a set of keys and running after a man walking towards the Teal car where I was resting my laurels.  He tossed out a quiet yell towards the man:

“Here’s your keys Mr. Gates”.

My tuschie came off the back end of that car as if it had just sat down on  a wet seat on the Subway to Coney Island. I slowly looked to my right to catch a glimpse of the Billionaire hoping he wasn’t going to instruct the attendant  to have me removed and get his car dusted for commoner butt prints.

What I actually witnessed was Bill giving me the double take. He looked at me twice before he opened his car door to get in.

There are only a few reasons I can think of when someone looks at you twice:

one: you think you recognize that person,

two: you like what you see and you have to have seconds.

three: “what was this girl thinking resting on his specially made Teal Sadies as if it were a hitching post equipped with a watering hole. Why the nerve of that girl placing her back pocket of her designer jeans against my hand crafted rear panel indulging in the New York Times Puzzle. What,…..  she’s too good for the Seattle Times Sudoku??”.

O.k…That actually happened…..with the exception of the NY Times…..I  was reading the Horoscope section holding a pen………

My dream  last night about Mr. Gates opened with  the two of us riding about in a giant SUV and he was yakking about how we were going  to go swimming at a club that my family belongs to.

He was very concerned about my “knowing how to swim”, and “do I like swimming”.( I didn’t know how to respond because it was 30 degrees out and snow was still on the ground and swimming was the last thing on my mind.)  As I sat there in the passenger seat groping for an answer that would honor the Mega- Trazillionaire, my puppy , Charly-dog, popped onto the dashboard and rummaged through the front seat as if he owned the car.

Mr. Gates started quizzing me about Charly and “what kind of food he eats” and “if the food was expensive” and “was it tasty“.

I informed him of the brand and mumbled that I had not yet sampled it.

Then I woke up. I woke up with a feeling that I had just held a private meeting with one of the top richest men in the country and our conversations centered around swimming and dog chow, instead of a great stock tip or insight to a new pc product.  I was left drowning in a  Pool of Purina……..

I don’t know about anyone else, but conquering menopause without medication is starting to have it’s effect on me.   It has now hit the subconscious. My anterior pituitary has reached its last droplets of hormonal secretions and is casting its FSH out to the sea of dreams. Flooding the GATES of  REM.

Thank God my puppy was there to witness the whole thing, he smiled at me in the morning as if everything went swimmingly well…..

spread the humor.

{January 22, 2010}   A Blog’s Breakfast

What in the world is in Dog food? What ingredient do they add that makes a six month old puppy’s farts smell as if something has been lying dead in a vat of sulfur.  I can hardly write because my eyes are tearing up. My dog is lying next to me on a blanket surrounded in a faint cloud of smoke from the gas that is escaping through his tiny puppy portal. We are sitting by the fire place which I am afraid to ignite given the hazardous conditions of my dog’s intestines.

I give my pup a special dog food that has the heading of Science. I was instructed by EDO’s to get a good brand of food to “help his coat” and “maintain a healthy diet” and “he will not have stinky poop”. No, just aromatic farts. Amaroidal.

I tried to find out what this dog food contained but there were no “specifics” on the bag. It just said Special Blend. I saw some bags that had the names of farm animals on them like chicken and lamb. But this was a special blend. Special. The word Special is very precarious. Often used as an adjective. Like Special Ed. Special refers to something that is different, peculiar, limited….Red Lettered. Much like the color of the title of the bag of dog food I bought. I plucked a pellet of this special blend and brought it to my nose. This pebble had the scent of something that was at least three days old and hadn’t been refrigerated in weeks.

I’m a smeller. My eyesight is lagging, my hearing is weak, but my snoz tells all. When I shop for food I will pick items up and smell them for their freshness. I can smell if Tylenol has expired. I think I was a bloodhound in my former life. One time when I was shopping at a store in Seattle I encountered an ample assortment of cheese. Cheese from all over the world. Cheese in all sizes and shapes and fragrance. I love cheese. I must have spent an hour picking up various blends of cheeses and holding it to my face to take a whiff.

 When I have come across a delightful cheese in my past I could never remember the brand or name, but I could remember the taste. And if I couldn’t sample the cheese I could remember the smell. (Well who can forget Stilton.) After I finished in this grocery I looked up and saw  that a large man had been watching me the entire time sniffing a sharp Cheddar.  I told him I was not shoplifting and to call off the security.

He smiled and commented on; “How he had never seen anyone smell cheese before”.

 I said: “I know and they all stink”.

Then we continued our tete-a-tete in the check out line.

I know you are expecting this to end with my telling you “this was how I met my husband kind of scene”, but no, this was a very large infamous sports announcer on a local channel buying dog food….. and he had an odor much like the aged cheese bin.  This guy , I had heard later, was involved with a large drug ring that resulted in a few incarcerations at Club Fed. I knew something smelled about him other than his cheap cologne.  Maybe that’s the answer to my dog’s digestive woes. He needs puppy perfume. Chaniel  No.5 or Pet-scada or Canine klein or Dog Dew…….Brut.

Needless to say none of these perfumes would hide the unhealthy bouquet radiating from within my puppy’s system.  I may have to phone the Science food people to actually find out what the make up of their kibble – n-bit is. I’m sure every thing meets with the FDA ( food & dog association) standards but they really need to work on that smell.

I’d hate to have to write them a Scarlett letter.

spread the humor.

et cetera
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