Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time:
Your Thought for the Day:
The conception of two people living together for twenty-five years without having a cross word suggests a lack of spirit only to be admired in sheep.
Alan Patrick Herbert
Late to work:
Well, this is better than a dog ate my homework story. I was late to work….because….
The hounds and the cat had a squirrel tree’ed in my living room drapes this morning.
Yes, a fucking squirrel,
you know a tree rat with a bushy tail. It seems someone (I was told that that someone is me) forgot to close the damper. Now bats are kind of taken for granted in old house but fucking hell a squirrel? Now I know you have seen the little bastards jump but when it’s in your house and onto you head it tends to get your attention first thing in the morning.
Of course the sweet and merciful Mrs. John Q. Public wouldn’t not let me kill the god-damn thing, so there I was herding a god-damn squirrel (I did however find the while the hounds are of a herding breed they are completely impractical for the task at hand, in fact they tended to add to the problem). After breaking several vases and generally fucking up my morning I got the thing outside. Shame, because I have some good recipes.
Last Night:
It was one of those married couple long talk nights, which sadly did not involve the Strong willed and Persistent Mrs. JQP being stoned, which as an avid reader you know is often the best way to talk about issues of great importance with her.
Sad to say the outcome could have been better, at one point she went the garage and got the lighter fluid and a box of Ohio Blue Tip matches and kindly suggested that I “just go up stairs and go to sleep”.
I as a man, of course had commented one of the classic blunders by suggesting that her mood might be related to her menstrual cycle and that in fact she could at that very moment be suffering from PMS. Wrong answer…dear friends, wrong answer….
So, I did what any man in his right mind would do, I kissed her ass…and I kissed her ass well, I also offered to A) rub her feet B) wash her hair and C) do the dishes, she how ever suggested that the thing that I could do for her at the moment that would please her the most was to go fuck myself. Discretion being the better part of valor I retreated, I find that sleeping on the futon in the sun room works well in these situations. Off to a very restless sleep…
Now you may ask what started this? Well, it was over pickles and who ate the last of them, truth be known, I didn’t even know we had pickles….it ended up being about:
A) my student loans
B) my boat
C) the kitchen
D) my family
E) my ex-girl friends
F) my current girlfriends
G) her current girlfriends
H) my job
I) her job
J) the dogs
K) the History Channel and ESPN
L) “Why the fuck shouldn’t Hillary run”
M) and that I somehow lost her 1) keys 2) cell phone 3) and that 20 bucks she had saved to get her toes done.
Ok, so I took the 20…but on the rest of it I am innocent. What it comes down to is mamma wants a baby and she is pissed because she thinks she is going to start her period.
At least that’s what she told me this morning tearfully after I got rid of the fuck squirrel. I held her and told her she was forgiven, but that if she really wanted a baby she might want to start having sex with me (hey, I am told that helps) and lay off the heroin and crack (it was a joke, sadly she didn’t see it as such, so off to the races we went yet again, my lil’ flower…that’s what you get when you marry a redheaded Irish girl form Detroit City)
Don’t worry…I am thinking of a way to get myself out of this and once again be the hero. Timing its all timing…
Your Bill for the Day:
SONNET 9
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
That thou consumest thyself in single life?
Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die.
The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep
By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind.
Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused, the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murderous shame commits.
Quote for the Day:
I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled [poets] to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.
Socrates, In "Apology," sct. 21, by Plato.
Greek philosopher in Athens (469 BC - 399 BC)
Tail well between my legs, I remain;
JQP USCG (Ret.)
The conception of two people living together for twenty-five years without having a cross word suggests a lack of spirit only to be admired in sheep.
Alan Patrick Herbert
Late to work:
Well, this is better than a dog ate my homework story. I was late to work….because….
The hounds and the cat had a squirrel tree’ed in my living room drapes this morning.
Yes, a fucking squirrel,
you know a tree rat with a bushy tail. It seems someone (I was told that that someone is me) forgot to close the damper. Now bats are kind of taken for granted in old house but fucking hell a squirrel? Now I know you have seen the little bastards jump but when it’s in your house and onto you head it tends to get your attention first thing in the morning.
Of course the sweet and merciful Mrs. John Q. Public wouldn’t not let me kill the god-damn thing, so there I was herding a god-damn squirrel (I did however find the while the hounds are of a herding breed they are completely impractical for the task at hand, in fact they tended to add to the problem). After breaking several vases and generally fucking up my morning I got the thing outside. Shame, because I have some good recipes.
Last Night:
It was one of those married couple long talk nights, which sadly did not involve the Strong willed and Persistent Mrs. JQP being stoned, which as an avid reader you know is often the best way to talk about issues of great importance with her.
Sad to say the outcome could have been better, at one point she went the garage and got the lighter fluid and a box of Ohio Blue Tip matches and kindly suggested that I “just go up stairs and go to sleep”.
I as a man, of course had commented one of the classic blunders by suggesting that her mood might be related to her menstrual cycle and that in fact she could at that very moment be suffering from PMS. Wrong answer…dear friends, wrong answer….
So, I did what any man in his right mind would do, I kissed her ass…and I kissed her ass well, I also offered to A) rub her feet B) wash her hair and C) do the dishes, she how ever suggested that the thing that I could do for her at the moment that would please her the most was to go fuck myself. Discretion being the better part of valor I retreated, I find that sleeping on the futon in the sun room works well in these situations. Off to a very restless sleep…
Now you may ask what started this? Well, it was over pickles and who ate the last of them, truth be known, I didn’t even know we had pickles….it ended up being about:
A) my student loans
B) my boat
C) the kitchen
D) my family
E) my ex-girl friends
F) my current girlfriends
G) her current girlfriends
H) my job
I) her job
J) the dogs
K) the History Channel and ESPN
L) “Why the fuck shouldn’t Hillary run”
M) and that I somehow lost her 1) keys 2) cell phone 3) and that 20 bucks she had saved to get her toes done.
Ok, so I took the 20…but on the rest of it I am innocent. What it comes down to is mamma wants a baby and she is pissed because she thinks she is going to start her period.
At least that’s what she told me this morning tearfully after I got rid of the fuck squirrel. I held her and told her she was forgiven, but that if she really wanted a baby she might want to start having sex with me (hey, I am told that helps) and lay off the heroin and crack (it was a joke, sadly she didn’t see it as such, so off to the races we went yet again, my lil’ flower…that’s what you get when you marry a redheaded Irish girl form Detroit City)
Don’t worry…I am thinking of a way to get myself out of this and once again be the hero. Timing its all timing…
Your Bill for the Day:
SONNET 9
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
That thou consumest thyself in single life?
Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die.
The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep
By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind.
Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused, the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murderous shame commits.
Quote for the Day:
I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled [poets] to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.
Socrates, In "Apology," sct. 21, by Plato.
Greek philosopher in Athens (469 BC - 399 BC)
Tail well between my legs, I remain;
JQP USCG (Ret.)
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 4:06 AM
<< Home