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Introducing Stream of Consciousness Saturday

I have less than twenty minutes to make my blog post or I will have to drink and type.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I have sipped and typed many times. In fact, right now I am sipping an iced coffee QMF (that stands for Questionable Moral Fiber).  I had meant to drink it virgin, but it tasted kind of bland and sad, so, PURELY for flavoring purposes, I added just a small splash of DikinDurt Distillery’s Mohawk Valley Fire.  Yum.  Sometimes the naughtiness of having a little nip is all you really need.

So I am sitting here waiting for my friend, Kim, to pick me up to go to a Cinco de Mayo event at the Ilion Elks Lodge.  There I go again with my latest Freudian typo!  I keep wanting to put Cindy de Mayo.  A Facebook friend said she thought a Cindy de Mayo party sounded like a hoot.  I’ll have to keep that in mind.  It reminded Steven of a Freudian error he used to make when writing in the TV Journal.  He would refer to a certain HBO show as Sex and the Cindy.  Make what unflattering jokes you please, I think it sounds like a good show.

Either the coffee or the minute amount of alcohol is giving me a hot flash, just to give this post a little stream of consciousness flair.  Ooh, how’ s that for a new category?  Stream of Consciousness Saturday!  I love it!  And I am over 250 words, a perfectly respectable blog post by my own perhaps messed up rules (but they work for me).  And I still have 12 minutes before Kim gets here. Happy Saturday, everyone.



I’m Back

I just hate to forgo Lame Post Friday. I know, I know, I took up at least three posts this week being ill. It would, perhaps, behoove me to write a real post today. Unfortunately, as I sit at the keyboard typing at 5:17 p.m., I think that ship sailed. No time to compose and edit! I’ve got to write on the fly!

And as usual, I got nuthin’.

I actually considered and discarded several half-baked philosophies while at work today. I was feeling a little better for the first time. I mean the first time that lasted; since Sunday evening I would feel brief bouts of relief and think, “Ah, the worst is over.” Didn’t last. Oh dear, there I go, back to talking about my health.

Ah, here’s some half-baked philosophy I can live with: it is easy to obsess over the physical.

An example: For years I didn’t obsess over what I ate. I enjoyed food. I got hungry, I ate. Easy. Till one day I decided to go on a diet. It was the Soup Diet. It ruined my life. Suddenly, all I could think about was what I could and couldn’t eat. All I could talk about was the day on the diet I could eat beef. I couldn’t WAIT for banana day!

And I didn’t even lose that much weight.

As a side note (and this might be worth a little more half-baked philosophy): I didn’t learn my lesson about dieting either. I kept trying, usually with the same dumb diet, always without success. Till I discovered the South Beach Diet, which is really only a diet for the first two weeks, then segues into a sensible way of eating. But I digress.

What, I now ask, am I digressing from? This is Lame Post Friday, for heaven’s sake! The whole damn post is a digression! But, whatever. As with Non-Sequitur Thursday, I seem to veer more into Stream of Consciousness, but that really has less of a ring to it.

Joan Crawford? Or a Shar Pei?

I came up with that headline earlier in the week. The post I started to write for it wasn’t working out so well, so I thought I’d save it for Non Sequitur Thursday (my new favorite day).

Once again, I got nuthin’ (yes, it must be “nuthin'” not “nothing” and of course it’s “I got” not “I have,” what are you people thinking?).

In my defense, I’m in pain. It’s the sinuses again. January thaw be damned!

I do have a question. Why do people always make up names of their friends or relatives when they write do “Dear Abby” and when they do, why do they feel it is necessary to tell us they are doing so? Suppose I had a problem with Sally at work. Well, in the first place I would be unlikely to write to “Dear Abby,” because I think she gives stupid advice since the daughter started writing it. Come to think of it, the original Abby sometimes gave dumb advice too.

And once again, Non Sequitur Thursday veers into Stream of Consciousness Thursday.

By the way, I rarely have problems with anybody at work and when I do I go to other co-workers to let off steam and/or get advice. These things usually blow over, I’ve found.

I am pushing myself through this day one painful minute at a time (seventy-nine more to go) (That’s actually not true. It’s eighty, but I thought seventy-nine would be funnier) (Perhaps I should have waited till it was actually seventy-nine; who can thrash out these moral dilemmas?).

And that’s what I wrote on the final break at work. It seems a touch surreal now, saying there are 79 or 80 minutes left at work, now that I am out of work and at home typing it into my computer. But my head still hurts, I got nuthin’ else.

Actually, there are two or three more paragraphs I wrote at work, but I see no reason to inflict any more on you nice people. How many sick days is a blogger allowed? Call this my first one for 2013. Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.