Tag Archives: lame post

It’s a Non-Sequitur, It’s a Memory, NO, It’s Lame Post Friday!

Full Disclosure: I’m writing blog posts ahead this week. We’re going away for the weekend, and I don’t want to worry about getting up extra early on Friday or finding a computer on Saturday (the only full day we’ll be gone) (oh dear, I hope nobody made a note of that and intends to rob my house) (well, if you do, please clean the bathroom while you’re there, it’s disgusting) (and anybody that just said “TMI” to that last bit, Shut up! You know I hate that expression!).

Where was I? Ah, yes, this will be either Non-Sequitur Thursday or Lame Post Friday. I’ll decide when I type it into the computer. As you may have guessed, this post is a silly one.

When I registered at the Superhero Sprint on Saturday, they gave me an itty bitty box of candy, maybe an inch long, half-inch wide, quarter-inch deep. It had the Incredible Hulk on the outside and said it contained Candy Sticks.

I put the box in my purse and did not think about it again till the other day at work, when I happened to notice it. Now, I like to say I don’t see the point of candy that isn’t chocolate. That is not really accurate, of course, but I’m sure chocolate lovers see my point. Furthermore, I am trying to cut down on sweets (for me that is easier than cutting back on salty treats and deep-fried yumminess). I asked my friend Karen if she wanted them.

“What are they?”

“I know know; it says Candy Sticks. I thought it might be good if you needed that little sugar boost.” For my own sugar boost needs, I generally rely on hot chocolate out of the machine or substitute caffeine.

Pause for PSA: Kids! Don’t use artificial stimulants!

Back to the blog: Karen opened up the box and we peeked at the candy sticks.

“Why, those are candy cigarettes,” I exclaimed. “Remember candy cigarettes?” Not being worried if she dated herself in front of me, Karen nodded.

They weren’t exactly candy cigarettes, because they didn’t have the red food coloring tip (probably made with red dye number whatever that caused cancer). Still, the resemblance was striking.

“Think of it,” I said. “For years, all those candy-cigarette-making-machines stood idle, because it wasn’t cool to sell candy cigarettes any more. Then somebody got the idea, ‘Hey! We’ll make candy STICKS instead!’ And all those machines got used again!”

I don’t know if Karen was similarly struck at the thought or if she just likes to laugh at my nonsense. But I thought the whole story was good enough for a silly blog post. Candy cigarettes! What a blast from the past!

Ooh, I just realized, I could save this post for Monday, when it could be a Middle-aged Memory. But, no, I think I will use it for Lame Post Friday. For one thing, I’m too tired to write up and type in yet another post.

Have a nice weekend!

How Lame of Me

It is Lame Post Friday, and I am indeed lame. I did not write anything at work today (except for a paragraph or two on my novel)(in the interests of accuracy). I did not think of anything I could write about. I did not come home and run or walk so as to write about that. True, I could still do one of those, but I want to get this post written NOW.

Oh, just a brief update on my computer tribulations of Wednesday. The tablet is working now. I don’t know why or how but am not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Ah, that gives me a lame topic to write about: another Cliche Revisited (I love to pick apart a cliche). Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Why not? If you have a horse, wouldn’t you like to know how old it is? Or if it needs dental work? The Trojan Horse should definitely have been looked in the mouth, or I guess the stomach, where the soldiers were hiding. Um, I’m not clear on if the Trojans were inside the horse or the ones who received it as a gift. And I do not care enough to look it up.

Hmmm, can’t think of another cliche to refute. How lame of me.

Well, how long does a Lame Friday Post have to be to count? Usually if I go over 200 words, I am content. Ooh, and I did. Happy Friday, everybody.

Walking into the Weekend

After two days of 80+ degree weather, things cooled off here in the Mohawk Valley. Therefore, after supper, I suggested Steven, Tabby and I take a walk, so I could write my blog post about that, rather than my usual Lame Post Friday schtick.

Full disclosure: Earlier in the day, I had told myself that if it did not rain, I would go running and write my post about that. Imagine my chagrin when, on leaving work, I discovered that it was NOT raining. In my defense, I had spent a good portion of the day with a rather debilitating headache, such as I am unfortunately subject to. I try not to complain about my headaches overly much, but I do just mention them, especially when they prevent me from doing something I intended to do.

This being Lame Post Friday, I could now go into some half-baked philosophy about how what to me is “merely mentioning” is to somebody else “pissing, moaning and whining like a baby.” Somebody unpleasant, no doubt. Never mind, I’m writing about our walk.

Steven and I put on sweatshirts over our t-shirts. Tabby, of course, had her natural fur coat. Steven and I felt a little chilly right off the bat, especially when the wind blew. Tabby seemed fine. Then again, Tabby ran up and down the backyard barking excitedly while Steven smoked a cigarette. I’ll have to try that sometime. Maybe not the barking. We’ll see.

We decided to walk the Tabby way. She pulled us down Bellinger Street toward Myers Park. We like to go through the park. I admired some flowers still blooming on a neighbor’s porch. We discussed garden plans for next year, and Steven shared some gardening memories from his childhood.

It felt very good to walk, and I enjoyed the fall-like temperature. Our walk lasted about a half hour. It was not very eventful, but we enjoyed it. Now we will continue to enjoy our Friday night and the rest of the weekend. I’m hoping more blogworthy adventures will ensue.

Whine O’Clock

Yes, it is Lame Post Friday, and it should surprise no one that I got nuthin’.

I was about to say I’ve had a bear of a week, but I seem to remember last week being rather bearish as well (ooh, look at that, according to my computer “bearish” is so a word; I thought I had just now made it up). Earlier today I told a co-worker I was in a terrible mood, because all I could think about was things that piss me off. She advised me to think about something else.

“What should I think about?”

“3:30 this afternoon.” That’s our quitting time. “Wine-thirty.”

“It’s whine-thirty all day long for me,” I admitted. “Because all I do is whine.”

See, you get the pun right away when you write it down.

I thought it was a kind of a preemptive strike on my part (I’ll be damned, according to my computer pre-emptive is not hyphenated) to admit that I was whining. You know how upsetting it can be when all you want to do is relieve your feelings by expressing your discontent and you get told to stop whining. Actually, I had taken care to go to the co-worker that doesn’t usually say that. You have to be careful who you whine to. Uh, I mean express your discontent.

I was going to go into some half-baked philosophy about whining and perspective, but I believe I have covered it before. I would look back, find the post (or posts, I know I repeat myself sometimes), but hey, it’s Friday and I’m one of those lucky bastards who have a three day weekend. I’m thinking it’s beer o’clock.

Not Easy Being Me

I believe I have observed before, the trouble with these “easy on myself” posts such as Lame Post Friday and Middle-aged Musings Monday (why, yes, that is today) is that I still have to write them.

I enjoy this blogging hobby, I really do. It is not burdensome to sit on my break at work and write a blog post. In fact, I did that today. Only I didn’t finish it. It is about the cheesy movie I may have alluded to yesterday (why, yes, that was Wrist to Forehead Sunday, another “easy on myself” day).

I put “easy on myself” in quotes, because quite often I find that it is not easy. The really annoying thing is, it’s not much good either. I mean, if something is difficult and not much fun, shouldn’t there be some reward? You know, like if I eat carrot sticks instead of french fries, I could lose weight (anybody out there saying in an annoying tone of voice, “I LIKE carrot sticks,” you can have mine). If I go to work, I will get a paycheck (and anybody out there who LOVES their job, I bet you don’t love it ALL the time). If I must make an effort to write, it will be good (given that “good” is a subjective term) (sorry, had to put in another parenthetical comment to be symmetrical).

I find, not so much.

Sometimes the posts I grunt out one word at a time read exactly as if I grunted. Them. Out. One. Word. At. A. Time. (and if you think it’s not annoying to type like that, try it). On the other hand, this is not a hard and fast rule. Sometimes I am glad I took the effort. Sometimes some of the things that roll off my pen in a delightful haze of I-love-to-write are… not so delightful as I thought they were.

It sounds as if I am gearing up to some half-baked philosophy about there are no guarantees. Or maybe I can only do the best I can do. Or better luck next time.

Save the half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday. For today, my Middle-aged Musing is: it is not always easy to write. But I sure love to do it.

Oh, Just Write It!

Is cooking conducive to writing? Discuss amongst yourselves.

I am not exactly cooking as I write this (by hand in a notebook, standing at my kitchen counter). I am popping popcorn (on the stove in oil, as God intended) (it’s JUST an EXPRESSION! Sheesh!).

I wrote that much and got stuck. Still, I got the urge to open the notebook and start writing as soon as I got the oil in the pot. I thought that was interesting.

You know, I think Wrist to Forehead Sunday is becoming even more deeply ingrained into my schedule than Lame Post Friday. Actually, this morning, I am more inclined to put the palm of my hand or my cold fingers on my forehead, because I have a dreadful headache. Partying too heartily on Saturday night, you ask? Well, I don’t know about that, but I did stay up later than normal.

Be all that as it may, what is a blogger to do when a post must be written (according to my rules, anyways) but her head is aching and she wants nothing better than to retreat into the TV watching and crocheting portion of the day (I got some new yarn especially for the purpose)? What I did do was eat the popcorn and think about it (Steven was hogging the computer anyways), then pour myself some blue Gatorade (for some reason good for headaches) and get onto the computer to Write The Damn Thing Anyways.

We did go for a most enjoyable walk with Tabby earlier (before the headache had kicked in). It was still cool out, not too sunny, which was good since I had forgotten my Crazy Old Lady hat. We stopped and chatted with some neighbors who were having a garage sale (didn’t buy anything for once). We discussed our respective flood experiences, what we’d heard about who lost what, and had anybody gotten any money from insurance or the government yet. We concluded that we had been more fortunate than some others.

Well, look at that, word count over 300. I call that respectable. Don’t worry (if you even were), I won’t be too lame in the coming days. We saw an awesomely cheesy movie last night (when I may or may not have been partying too heartily), and I hope to do some bloggable cooking today. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

Making with the Random Observations

Well, I’m afraid it is another Lame Post Friday and it probably surprises nobody, least of all myself, that I got nuthin’. In my defense, I was working on my novel. And talking to my husband on my cell phone. And helping my co-worker with the crossword puzzle. Yes, the same lame excuses as last time.

As I sat at work and it was quite clear to me that this would indeed be a Lame Post Friday, I thought I could at least come up with some random observations. I feel that Lame Post Friday has been heavy on half-baked philosophy lately. In fact, it has been spilling out onto other days. So I thought I could leaven the mix with random observations.

I sat at my machine at work and observed… Well, you see, I look out the window, across a very short expanse of grass and weeds, onto a brick wall. The bricks are old. There is some grey foundation beneath the bricks. There are windows, some open, one hanging brokenly. I don’t believe they are ever shut.

How boring is that? Oh, I did notice one thing on my drive home. Two young kids on scooters, a girl maybe nine and a boy maybe four (not that I’m good at guessing ages). They were followed by a lady, presumably the mother, walking a very cute dog — it may have been part pug or maybe bulldog. The dog pulled eagerly on his leash. I think he wanted to be up there with the kids. At least, I don’t know if it was a boy or a girl dog. I use “he” and “his” in a gender neutral sense. I don’t like to call a dog “it.”

I suppose I could come up with some half-baked philosophy on “he/she/it,” but today is random observation day. Also, my word count is up to 300. Plenty enough for a Friday! Have a good weekend, everybody!

No Potatoes

I don’t really know what that means. Louis Armstrong says it at the beginning of one of the songs on a CD I have, and since it is a non-sequitur there, I thought I would it would be appropriate as a headline on Non-Sequitur Thursday.

As you can guess, I ain’t got much.

I’m not really sure what Non-Sequitur Thursday is supposed to be anyways. I guess I just use it as an early Lame Post Friday. Sorry about that, but, you know what, I’m tired. It’s been a long week. A pedantic person would say the week is seven days long, as is every week since they invented weeks. That person would be quite right, but, you know what, being right is no reason to say something. There’s some half-baked philosophy I may re-visit on Lame Post Friday.

Lame Post Friday, that’s the day I’m waiting for. For one thing, it’s defined. Random observations and half-baked philosophy. What is Non-Sequitur Thursday but me being too lazy to write a real post. Right up there with Wuss-Out Wednesday.

Stand by for some more half-baked philosophy: I started this blog because I wanted to make myself write something every day. Does it count if what I write is dumb? How much effort is it required that one expend for writing to “count”? I put it in quotes, because it just occurred to me to wonder, what does it even mean for writing to count?

I will feel better if I answer those questions. Yes, it counts, no matter how dumb, and “dumb” is a judgement call anyways (we’ll save half-baked philosophy on “dumb” for another day). The effort of putting fingers to keyboard or around pencil is effort enough. For writing to count, it must mean something to someone, and quite frankly, most writing does (maybe something dumb, but let’s not re-open that can of worms).

Now maybe I’ll go eat some potatoes.

Author of My Own Disaster

So there I was, writing a blog post about me getting organized. I was getting all self-deprecating about how unorganized I am and hoping people would identify with my tribulations — after all, nobody’s perfect — when my computer froze. Oh well, I was sure it would unfreeze soon, at least to the extent that I could re-start it. I grabbed a pen and notebook and started handwriting while I waited.

And waited. And waited. I don’t know if it was a product of my frustration or an honest reaction, but I soon realized that what I was writing was dreadfully boring and going to run into an awfully hefty word count. A lame post is one thing (although I try to reserve those for Friday). A lame, long post is a terrible thing (I just know there’s some snide reader out there saying, “But nothing new.” Where do I get all these snide readers? Oh yeah, inside my head).

Where was I? Ah yes, shutting down my computer in hopes it will help. I managed to do at least that much, and brought the boring handwritten post downstairs to ponder over a cup of tea. Being prone to catastrophize, I worried that my computer has finally given up the ghost and my future as a blogger is in jeopardy. Why, oh why did I not do this earlier, when I could have run to the library and made my post? Once again, I am the author of my own disaster (ooh, how’s that for a high-flown phrase? Perhaps I’ll use it for the title) (if I ever get this typed into a computer).

I guess today’s post (again, if I ever get it typed in and published) (which, apparently I did, if you are reading this) (ooh, I just flashed on Bill and Ted, jumping back and forth in time in their first Excellent Adventure) is another version of the dog ate my homework (my dog would NEVER do such a thing). I may yet write about my adventures in organization. I will try to make it not boring, even to hypothetical snide readers in my head.

Continuing the Fun

When Steven and I left the Balloon Farm Bed and Breakfast (see yesterday’s post), we were not ready to end our afternoon of fun. We decided to treat ourselves to a visit to the Waterfront Grille in Herkimer, NY.

The Waterfront Grille is located just across from the New York State Thruway exit, at Gems Along the Mohawk. Lil’ Diamond Cruises leave from there, and there is a delightful retail store that highlights many area businesses and attractions. I’ve plugged Gems Along the Mohawk before, and probably will again.

We sat at the bar and ordered drinks. I love looking out over the water. I hope to go on one of the cruises before the season is over. We discussed the possibility as we perused the menu. After much debate, we got two of the appetizer specials: bacon-wrapped artichoke hearts and grilled chicken wings. Yum!

Waterfront Grille’s actual address is 800 Mohawk St., Herkimer, NY. Their phone number is 315-717-0700.

This is quite a short post, even for a Lame Post Friday. I’ve been trying to think what I could add to it and, what a surprise, I got nuthin’. Not even a would-be witty comment on why I can’t think of anything. I suppose you’ll have that in the blogging business. Happy Friday, everybody.