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from the start.

2008-08-25 11:27 p.m.

Enjoying a vodka and Sprite Zero

It�s still pretty quiet and laid back around here. There is not a lot going on consequently there isn�t a whole lot to write about. I�ll think of something. I have only been writing once a week or so until lately but I am trying to write at least every other day just to keep my hand in it. Bear with me.


One of my reads is Bozoette Mary. Yesterday she wrote aboutMondegreens

One example listed on that site is

�Shirley good Mrs. Murphy shall follow me all the days of my life� (surely goodness and mercy - 23rd psalm) Another one that�s been around since I was little:

Our Father, who art in heaven, Harold be thy name. (The Lord�s Prayer) Well, as coincidence would have it, a song came on the TV later in the day. The song playing was Bird dog.

Okay, I know I am the first person to poke fun at Terry. Actually, it is one of my favorite hobbies. Well occasionally he gets a chance to make fun of me. This was to be one of those times.

He was singing the song, �Hey bird dog get away from my Quail. Hey bird dog your on the wrong trail.� I laughed.

He said, � What�s so funny?�

I answered, �The words you just sang to that song.�

�What�s wrong with them?�, he asked.

�All these years, I thought the words were, �Paper dog, get away from my girl. I always wondered what the hell a paper dog was and why a paper dog would go after a girl. And besides that, why would you name a dog Johnny?�

Yes, Hubby got to laugh at me. Who says I�m not unforgettable?


I have a brand new ad to hate. It is a Burger King ad. Maybe it�s me. If it is, okay but I have to ask. The newest ad in case you haven�t seen it, is a guy eating a burger in a hotel room. All of a sudden there is a knock at the door. It opens and there is a real cow standing there. The guy looks up from his hamburger and says,

�I didn�t know we were exclusive.�

There is a similar one with a pig. Something about those commercials just strike me as really, really, wrong. Like I said, Maybe it�s me.


Terry and I were watching a murder mystery Sunday afternoon. It was one of a series of Mystery Woman made for TV movies staring Kelly Martin as the owner of a bookstore. She also dabbles in solving crimes in her spare time with the help of Philby, (Clarence Williams III, retired CIA). They are cute movies.

Anyway, in one scene, Kelly Martin is hosting a book signing at her store with three well-known mystery authors. One gets killed and the florist that had provided the flowers for the signing had a fax with her signature on it and he, (the florist) was hoping the police wouldn�t want it as evidence. He knew that now the author was dead it would be worth a fortune.

I told Terry that if that were real life it would be worth a bundle. I said imagine if a real modern best selling author were to sign a date stamped credit card slip 10 minutes before, say, a fatal heart attack. It would probably be worth thousands to a collector.

That dear, wonderful husband held up his napkin and sweetly said.

�Can you sign this for me?� Ass.


Just for the record, this is the chair that I will be getting within a week or so.

I used Terry�s today while he was in his recliner. I went out in the kitchen and made my tossed salad, put everything back in the refrigerator and got back into the living room without hitting a wall.

I figure when I get it, I�ll use it for twenty years. By that time Terry will have a new one and I will give his old one to h2odragon and she and I can find a demolition derby to get into. Hey, it could happen.

Later,
Cosmic

|

yesterday's gone/tomorrow's coming

- - 2009-07-27
- - 2009-07-07
- - 2009-06-29
- - 2009-06-26
- - 2009-06-09


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