Coming Soon:


Thursday, October 29, 2009

You Know When You’re So Scared, Nothing Comes Out Of Your Mouth?

    At one time or another we've all been so scared as to scream. Our mouths open wide, jaws drop to our chest and the corners of our lips are about to split as we take in the horror that is upon us. We fill our lungs to capacity for maximum sound, expecting to snap eardrums for miles. All that air goes flying out in what should have been one blood curdling scream but instead we get a sound that's quieter than a whisper. Sometimes, this is a good thing.

    We had some guest over one weekend and on the second morning of a wonderful time I was in the kitchen making breakfast when one of them walked in looking dead tired. I asked if he was ok and he responded with he was fine, just didn't get any sleep. He dragged his limp and lifeless body over to the kitchen table and sat down, rubbed his eyes and said, "You know when you're so scared, you open your mouth to scream and nothing comes out?" I told him I did, usually in nightmares. "Let me tell you about my nightmare then", he said.

    It seems he got up around 1am and had to use the bathroom. He quietly felt his way down the dark hallway to the pitch black bathroom, stepped in and shut the door. He felt around the cold wall for a light switch to no avail.  Not being able to see, he sat down instead of standing to urinate.  As he sat there in total darkness he felt a warm breath blow across the back of his neck. At first, he thought he just imagined it but it happened again. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck and arms start to stand up as panic started to take over. He finished quickly and was ready to bolt out of the bathroom when he felt another warm breath followed by a tiny little tap on his left shoulder. Panic took over. He froze. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. Fear had him glued down and visions of his decaying body being discovered on the porcelain thrown sent chills down his spine. Just as the last fleeting pictures of his life flew across his vision, he heard a tiny little sound come from behind him.  These were the last seconds of his life.  The tiny sound came again and this time he heard it clearly.  Meow.   That's when he realized there was a cat sitting on the toilet tank right behind him. After that, all he could think of was, thank gawd that he was sitting on a toilet.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Superior Scribbler Award from My Mind Wandered...


     It always surprises me when I recieve an award from someone.  I write my post and put them out there for the world to read not knowing if they are going to be loved or hated.  Preferably loved but it's alright if some are not, they are mine and I still love them in all there imperfections.  I started this blog on Aug 10, 2009 and I worry about the future.  How many stories can I tell?  What happens if I come home one day and find my cats puffing on a pipe wearing a smoking jacket boring as hell.  It's nice to know though, at this time I am doing something right, that people are enjoying what I write.  With that I would really like to thank Leeuna for the fantastic Superior Scribbler Award.  You can check out her great site My Mind Wandered...and it never came back!  Her mind wanders to some great places and lucky for us she writes it down.

     Like many awards, this one comes with conditions, so here goes.

*Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.

*Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.

*Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.

*Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we’ll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!

*Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

I have everything done except the 5 blogs so without further ado:

  1. just kicken it around by plainolebob.  It is truely one of the most hysterical blogs I have read.
  2. The Time Crook by Hunter.  I'm not even going to tell you to check out a certain post  that stands out because ALL of his stories and haikus stand out.  Trust me on this, you HAVE to go back and read the older posts too.  Just don't be drinking anything while reading, swallowing and laughin at the same time hurt.
  3. The Good Girls by Sarah.  Sarah has a way of putting words together to create some very wonderful stories.  While reading the stories she writes your world will fade out and hers will take over.
  4. SecretOfficeConfessions by Kate.  Publishing will never look the same agian.  Wildly funny, you wont know if you want to work there or run screaming from the building.
  5. plentymorefishoutofwater  An Englishman's guide to dating and social etiquette.  A mans perspective on dating.  He holds nothing back in his extremely humorous stories on dating.
There are more but I am only allowed 5 and these five are great and consistent.  Thank you again Leeuna and thank you Bob, Hunter, Sarah, Kate and Plenty More Fish for writing stories that make us feel.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Interlude #03: You Named Your Cats After What???

     A long time ago, back in middle school, a friends family had two cats.  Their names were Trix and Coco Puffs.  I asked him one day who named them and he told me his Dad.  I replied "I take it your dad likes cereal a lot".  He replied, "no, hookers".

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Curiosity Didn’t Kill The Cat, But I’m In Critical Condition: Run Away, RUN AWAY!

    We all have are phobias, whether it be reptiles, things under the bed or midget clowns from space, there is something that scares us. Most of it is irrational, we can't be hurt by it but in our minds it will cause a slow and excruciating death. For me, I have a very common phobia; spiders, I just take it to the extreme.

While hiking one day with some friends, we came across a snake. The back end of the snake was under some shrubs on the side of the path and the front end was lying there lifeless out in the sun. The six of us stood in a circle around the snake arguing whether it was dead or just playing possum. One of us chimed up that they could see the rattles on the tail. I suggested we leave it alone and continue past the snake. I believed it to be alive. We followed the path up the rest of the shrub filled hill and there it ended abruptly. We made a u-turn back down the trail and came across the shrub where the snake was. I say was, because now there was only a little slither trail in the sand where it had laid fooling us into leaving it alone. Everyone was getting antsy and looking around, afraid the rattler was going to jump out and yell booga booga and bite them I them in the ankle. I seemed to be the only calm rational one out of the bunch. As we made our way to the bottom of the hill, looking in every direction but forward, we came across a field of dry grass about four feet high. Out in the field about a hundred yards was hill with wild gourds growing on it. I wanted to get a closer look but there was no trail out to the isolated Garden of Eden. Single file we decided to trudge out there. I was fifth in line in our parade of soldiers marching through the swamp of dried grass. About 25 yards into our little walk I got a quick glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. Instantly, I turned into a bowling ball and the five people in front of me flew off like pins into the grass. They knew me pretty good and I heard someone yell as I sped towards the hill leaving them lying in the grass to die with our enemies, "did you see a spider?" I gasped out of breath, still sprinting; "I dunno, it was black and moved!" Carl Lewis has nothing on me when there's a spider involved, or in this case a possible spider. I sacrificed all six of them to the Snake Gods of the Grass that day just to get away from a spider that may or may not have existed…and unfortunately, I'd do it again.

Yes, I have a quite common phobia of spiders. The advantage of such a phobia is I can always run away…or so I thought.

    Rock was the Harry Houdini of cats. He could get from point A to point B and no one would see him do it. Before opening the front door I would scan the area for any signs of the sneaky mongrel. I would then crack open the door just enough to slide my body through, slip outside, shut the door and lock it. I would proceed down the steps to the sidewalk and there would be Rock, sitting there. To this day I don't know how he did it but he always seemed to get out the door without me ever seeing him.

    One early evening he did this and as I got to the sidewalk to pick him up, he bolted. He ran around the side of the house with me in hot pursuit and like the bullet train entering a tunnel, he shot underneath the house. I called his name a couple of time and got nothing back. I went inside and snatched the can of treats from the kitchen and shook it a few times in front of the hole Rock had shot through. Like a Jack-in-the-Box from hell, Rock popped out of the hole, an all black cat covered in a thick mass of sticky, stringy spider webs. I dropped the treats and ran like I just saw Ichabod Crane come flying across the bridge of Sleepy Hollow.

    I ran into the house gasping for breath and slammed the front door shut. "You're cats out wandering the streets; you need to go get him". I explained what just happened and out the door my other half goes to get the cat, laughing the whole time. As the web coated feline is snatched from the street and taken to the bathroom to be cleaned up, I stepped outside to grab something from the car. As I entered the house I find Rock sitting in front of the door way. I jumped back out and quickly shut the door and rang the bell. The following conversation took place.

"Who is it?"
"It's me, Rocks in front of the door and there is a spider on him."
"Did you see one?"
"I dunno, he's black and moving."
"Who is? The spider or Rock?"

    After some convincing that Rock was de-spidered, I entered the house giving the furry spider bus a wide berth, just in case. I sat myself at the corner of the couch and Rock sauntered over and sat at my feet. I scooted over to the other side of the couch and Rock scooted over and sat by my feet again. I got up and preceded down the hallway, the mini spider toting terrorist got up and proceeded to follow me. I ran. He chased me. I sped down the hallway at break neck speed barely getting to the bedroom door in time to shut it and keep Rock from flinging anything with eight legs and a mound of eyes at me.

    Rock chased me around the house for a few days before I was finally convinced that if any spider was indeed on the cat it probably died from the fumes emanating from the cat box during one of Rocks daily trips to it. I sat down on the couch and saw Rock in the middle of the living room floor looking in my direction. I whistled, called out his name and patted my knee with my hand. Rock looked at me, stood up, stretched, turned around and walked away.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Interlude #02: Halloween Treats

A Friend of mine made this one year for a halloween party.  People are still talking about it to this day.  I'm actually thinking of making this to take into work.  What do you think?

Here's a great Idea for a Halloween treat to take to a party.  It's simple to make and very tasty.  The presentation alone will have you the talk of the town for weeks.  First, you get some finely chopped nuts,  just how much depends on the size of the presentation container you use and we'll get to that in a bit.  Dump the nuts into your presentation container to fill the bottom about 1/2 an inch.  Next get some tootsie rolls and unwrap them.  Place them in the nuts.  Bury some, roll some around, just lay some on top.  For the presentation container, use a small cat box, preferably new, and a pooper scooper, also preferably new and walla!  Kitty Surprise Treats!

Thursday, October 1, 2009

I Think Your Cats Mooning the Dog

     Moving is a traumatic experience for most of us. It's the same routine every time, the packing, the unpacking, the trying to figure out where you got everything from and why in the hell you still have it. Moving is traumatic and if you have a pet it's even harder.

     Imagine my surprise, when I and my cat Fred moved into a house with three other cats and everyone got along instantly. A couple of sniffs, a high five and Fred was eating from the same bowl with the other cats. The only thing left was to teach Fred to be an indoor/outdoor cat and to use the cat door. He was now an indoor cat living in a world where other cats could come and go as they please. He caught on quick and everything was great…for about a week.

    About a week after the move everything was wonderful until one night the neighbor's dog started barking. All night long he barked. Being a new neighbor, nothing was yelled out the window. The next morning I slowly dragged myself out to the kitchen where I could smell the coffee and asked if the dog barks all the time. I was told no, didn't even know the neighbors had a dog. I let it go.

     That night around 11pm the onslaught of foaming at the mouth barking started. A few "shut up" were sternly yelled out the window to no avail. The day after the third night I paid a visit to the neighbors and introduced myself. I learned the dog was not new, they had him for 4 years, he's never barked before and he wasn't going to be put inside for the night because he would chew up everything. After the fourth night I found new and colorful words flying out of my mouth and out the window, all had no impact on the barking dog. On the fifth night, again around 11pm, it started. I dragged my sleep deprived butt out of bed and stomped like a crazy person out the back door. I was done. The dog and I were going to have it out once and for all.

     I slammed out the back door and marched to the middle of the backyard and stopped. I was embarrassed. The tide had instantly turned. I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard these words calmly come from behind me. "Your naked, the porch lights on, the houses here are on raised foundations so they can see you over the wall and I think your cats mooning the dog". Standing on the block wall with tail up, facing away from the barking dog was, of course, my cat Fred. It was a perfect perch, just out of reach of the dog but next to a bush so when the dog owners would come out they wouldn't see the mooning cat.

     The next night around 11pm the dog started. I quietly got up, put on shorts and with head down, went to get the cat off the back wall. The dog was quiet. Never did tell the neighbors, not after some of the words I slung out the window.