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Posts Tagged ‘romance’

The Rule of Asses

Posted in art, books, chick lit, comedian, comic, entertainment, family, fantasy, Fiction, flash fiction, humor, life, literature, Personal, photography, Recommendations, sarcasm, shopping, short story, writer, Writing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 22, 2016| 56 Comments »


After hours of shopping, I was trying on slacks in a brightly lit dressing room. Finally, I found a pair that fit perfectly.  Tight enough in the right places and loose in others.

When I stepped out of the dressing room to show my friend, she said, “You have the ass that could rule the world.”

Maybe I could rule the world. I seriously considered her statement before realizing there are already enough asses ruling out there now.

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Which Cowboy Would You Chose?

Posted in comedian, comic, family, humor, Personal, Random, sarcasm, Writing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 27, 2014| 50 Comments »


I’ve been playing around with the length of my blog posts. I usually write short posts. I tried creating longer posts. 

My last post was about fake cowboys. It was the long version. Here is the shorter version.

You Call Yourself A Cowboy?

Here’s my message to a couple of guys on my flight back to Texas.

If you paint your boots with puffy paint, you are not a cowboy. If you bedazzle your belt to match your puffy painted boots, maybe you best stay home.

If you have bling on your jeans, skip the rodeo. If you need to tie your hat on, don’t wear it. 

A real cowboy fills his jeans with an air of freedom and a bit of wilderness. He strides confidently in worn boots. More often then not, there’s a little stubble on his chin. 

He doesn’t bedazzle or puffy paint anything. He tips his hat to the passing ladies, no strings necessary. 

I loves me a cowboy. All pretenders need not apply.

So which do you prefer, this post or the next?

 

 

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Remember Maybelle, Not of the Ice Cream Fame, the Rubbers Fame

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 20, 2014| 9 Comments »


Maybelle collected butterflies (warning if you have a pet butterfly, stop reading). She had a lovely collection on the wall behind her desk, close to thirty.

The collection was so varied no two were the same colors.

It was a lovely day in spring.

One day I was asking her a question, “When are we going to take the V22 out for a test run, I want to shot some missiles?” A breeze came through the open door on my right, bringing with it the smell of the Chesapeake Bay. Everything faded around me. I was hardly listening anymore.

“We don’t have any tests scheduled until next month…”

I was lost in early spring. Maybelle had added another butterfly to her collection. It was pale yellow with bright blue on the tail.

“… and we’re not testing missiles.”

Then the wing flipped. I jumped, blinking. That can’t be right. It’s wing flipped again.  Oh no.  It wasn’t still alive!

Oh yes it was. Maybelle had caught a butterfly at lunch and pinned it to the wall.

I never crossed Maybelle after that.  She was a butterfly hit man and I didn’t want her turning to humans.

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