Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Dirty Laundry 68

I was out for coffee with my friend Marie. She's one of the girls who works at the occult store here in town. And she's been trying to talk  me into going with her to this convention in the fall in the states. I've been reluctant because, well that's just me. Anyways, Vegas was brought up again. While we were talking, she got a message via twitter from The Guy In Vegas, once again asking her to come out there.  Now, she's shown me his photo before, but he was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. So didn't recognize him. Then she showed me the twitter message, and the video attached pointing him out.

Me-:"Oh my god! He's The Guy In Vegas?"

Marie-:"Yeah, why?"

Me-:"You never told me HE's the guy!"   the guy - her guy, is infamous in the occult world and works for one of those reality tv shows. And dude, I've had a crush on this guy myself after seeing him in a documentary few years back. They met few years ago at one of these conventions.  Needless to say, my mouth fell open and I think I started to drool even. "Damn! What is stopping you from flying out there right now?"

Marie-:"Flying. I hate flying."    hence why she really wants someone to go with her. She needs to have someone pry her full of alcohol and keep her from jumping out of the plane to her death.

Me-:"Then take a bus. You need to go and like marry this dude. Now!"

Marie-:"I'll go if you go with me." 

Me-:"You do realize the second you hook up with this guy you're going to want to stay there."

Marie-:"No I won't."

Me-:"Yes you will."

Marie-:"Yes I will." she went five shades of red in about two seconds. "So you'll go with me?"


Monday, April 10, 2017

post it note April 10th 2017

Dear Mr. Scratchy:

I came into the blog this afternoon with a plan. By the time I got my coffee and opened the page to write, plan was forgotten.  It's one of those days where even though I'm doing fairly well, the quiet is getting to me. Not the physical literal quietness of the place. That's always a happy peaceful few moments in the building I live. But the everything has slowed down and I don't have any obligations, quiet. It's moments like this I miss hugs. Yeah, hugs. Sitting on the sofa with the guy, or curled up in bed with him, or even just those really long hellos or goodbyes when you're standing in the hallway just loving the moment with the guy.  It's these pockets of time that get me. The quiet.  It's one of those pockets.

The other day, I'd been out most of the day, was on bus coming home. Bus stopped in front of the bar and a stack of people got on. It's a bar, they stank of beer. Have I mentioned I hate beer. Well, anyways, this old guy who was like in his 70's at lest, reached into his jacket and pulled out a bottle of men's cologne and sprayed half the bottle on himself. Did I mention he was sitting right in front of me. Yeah, I wasn't fast enough to duck, and spent the rest of the day smelling of it. Short blessing that I was headed home and not going anywhere important.

Okay, so now I've made you laugh, I need to get back to the twenty or so projects I have on my to do list.

I imagine Herman, that you're checking in today after a long day at work. I seem to think you are having a bowl of vegetable soup for dinner. The canned kind at that. I seem to think you're reading this, craving marshmallow squares for some odd reason. I think you are wearing a pair of black track pants that you've cut into shorts, runners no socks, and a light material jacket. I think you just got back from a run. Don't ask why, just roll with it. I imagine you're sitting there reading this, seriously arguing with yourself about something your buddy said to you. Maybe you went to some random palm reader or something with them so they didn't feel so embarrassed about it. And I think the reader did your tarots for you, giving you some out of the blue information that you're unable to get out of your mind.  You want to ask my thoughts on the cards...and that's the inner argue.

Oh Herman; Mr. Scratchy. These post its might seem easy but trust me, they're not.
As always, dream of me