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Posts Tagged ‘homour’


What did I last post? Have you ever had that thought? You couldn’t quite remember the last entry on your blog.

I thought, Maybe I haven’t been posting as often as I should.

I mulled this over for a while and started to feel little queasy. No, surely not, That was preposterous.

There must be some other reason  for my memory lapse.

Perhaps I was ill. Yes, of course that must be it.

I toddled to the bathroom cabinet and took my temperature. No no fever. I rubbed my hands against the sides of my neck. No, no swollen glands, no sore throat, stuffiness, or aches and pains. Nothing to indicate illness.

But if not illness, then what?

It must be those airport scanners. I fly twice a week. The scanners probably wiped my memory.

What did I have for dinner last night? Trick question, I didn’t have dinner I had a giant peanut butter chocolate Easter egg. 

I remember my Mother’s maiden name, the French I learned in 5th grade, and the color of my first tricycle. Damn it. Memory intact.

What else could it be? Was I neglectful? No. Was I lazy? We’ll come back to that one. Did I loose my snappy repartee? No, it couldn’t be. I dismissed them all.

By now you might be thinking – “Why doesn’t she just look at the date stamp on the post?”

No, I won’t. I refuse. It’s like time traveling and seeing yourself. It might rip the space-time continuum apart. No I must figure this out for myself. 

Then it hit me. My new best friend, Bernie, she works in the bar at the hotel where I stay. She was shocked that I can drink whiskey straight up. I start every evening with a complimentary whiskey. That’s it. It doesn’t have anything to do with time. Of course I posted often enough. Of course I’m responsible. Of course I honor my commitments.

I must have been drunk when I last posted. That’s why I can’t remember what it was about.

P. S. I’m still refusing to look at the time stamp.

 

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If you remember from my last post, one of my colleagues keeps talking about a stalker who is  always cruising the airport when she arrives in Sioux Falls. We both get here late in the evening. She arrives on Sunday night and me on Monday. The flights are always late so she can arrive any time between 10:30 and 2:30. So how does this guy know when she’s arriving?
To recap, when she gets to the parking lot, a guy in a white and green van is waiting. He pulls up and asks if she wants a ride.  I decided to take care of the situation, so we arranged to arrive together on Monday night.
We arrived at 11:00 pm. We went outside. The wind was blowing a million miles an hour and it was freezing. But what should I expect it is South Dakota. I was trying to stop the wind from working its way down my coat collar when my colleague, Cutie said, “Here he comes.”
I turned, she was right a van was slowing beside us. It was indeed white and green. The guy inside lowered the passenger side window. “You want a ride?” He asked.
“Are you talking about this van?” I asked, Cutie.
“Yes.”
“The one that says Holiday Inn? The one the hotel sends to pick us up?”

Mystery solved. Though cutie is still convinced the driver has a thing for her.

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My lifeline to the internet broke. So I’ve been off the rails for a bit until I could get a replacement.
So I’ll be catching you up on the latest in traveling news.

See you  Tuesday.
Dee

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I’m sure you will be pleased to know Miss Dairy Princess was crowned last night. The stress has been lifted and the country gives a collective sigh of relief, we can now start thinking about world peace.
I can’t report anything more specific since the tickets cost twenty bucks and there wasn’t an open bar. I checked.
Tonight, the mood has shifted as there’s a military banquet. Think men in uniforms roaming the halls. I loves me a man in uniform. Okay, okay, I loves me a man. Tomorrow night I’ll be back home.
Tata till then.
P.S. Panty report. They’re chafing.

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I’m in South Dakota – forgot my hat, gloves, and scarf. I don’t own a coat and am recalcitrant towards the idea of buying one. And it’s freaking cold.

One guy went ice fishing. I said me too in freezer section at my grocery store. And my fish were in the form of sticks, beat that.

Downstairs they’re holding the South Dakota Dairy Princess competition.  It’s a cross between Amish mafia and duck dynasty with a little children of the corn. You can see why I’ve retreated to my room. These people have some serious game faces.

So long from the frozen tundra. Here’s wishing me spring.

So, I’m back on the road again.

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