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Expiration Date

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Who the hell stamped me “Best Before —”? I am unsure of the exact date but it appears I may have passed my “Desirable Expiration Date”.  Never occurred to me that I might even have one.  I can’t help but think of that silly (not so silly) skit with Tina Fey, Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, Patricia Arquette and Amy Schumer.

Okay, okay, I know, I’m not an actress – so those sorta “rules” are not supposed to apply.  Right, uh huh, sure.  I may not get the gig either.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am very much desirable to the unavailable (read, married), older (you’re 72? I’m only 55, FFS!), substance-enhanced (read drunk or stoned).  Boy, they come at me hard (well, maybe not so much), lemme tell you. Really makes me feel sexy and desirable.  As if it is a turn on to be given a slot in the day when he is available for a quickie in a seedy motel:  “You don’t really want a drink or a meal do you? How ’bout I save a buck and go to your place?”  Or how about being told: “You turn me on, and I’m very romantic but I’m not into the deep dive coz…” Well, coz you’re too old, Dude, and sans blue or pink pill, the parts don’t function!  But the best is being approached by someone who is three sheets to the wind or buzzed out of his mind. Yeah, that really tells me how fabulous I am… truly. I do look my best when I’m blurry.

I am, of course generalizing here. Not all married men want just a quickie; not all older gents have issues; as for sex with drunks? No thanks, there I can say I have been there, done that, don’t want the t-shirt, or the lack of, um, satisfaction for all your going-nowhere efforts.

While I am not looking for a steady boyfriend and definitely not marriage, it would be nice to meet a fella or two with whom I could go on dates with. You know, dinner with interesting conversation and a movie and who knows, maybe a horizontal mambo should the desire strike us both – without the worry of someone being hurt, or business remaining unfinished, or feeling like I should find a bill or two on the nightstand.

I’m not dead yet – very much alive, to tell the truth – and though things may not be as quite fresh and firm as they once were, they are not that bad at all and still quite ripe (not yet over-ripe) for the picking, or more precisely, a fondling. The ladies my age and older (those who are still interested in romance and passion – and I respect those who have closed that door, even if I don’t understand it) know that we still have many good years ahead of us.

We want to feel the goosebumps with a light touch of fingertips and lips as we tilt our head back, exposing our neck. We want to feel the heat rise in our bellies and spread out through to the tips of our extremities, imbuing us a warm glow. Give us cause to catch our breath in anticipation of what comes next.

Nope.  My “Best Before” date has not arrived yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve something better.

Lyrics to the song are here.

 

 

 

All In One – Friday Fictioneers

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Good Wednesday! It’s a chilly one in my neck of the woods! But boy does the sun shine bright (all the better to fool you into going outside!) I had no idea where to go with this one.  Stumped I was. Then I asked Rochelle if it was what I thought it was and she said it was, and then some, and then I thought well I know where Imma go with this one then… confused yet? Thought so. Thanks to Roger Bultot for allowing us to use his head-scratching (for me) photo. And always, ALWAYS, a thank you to Rochelle for hosting this weekly party.

Click me!

All In One

“Here it is!”

“Here what is?”

“Our new building!”

“Is that Hebrew up there? Is it a synagogue? Can they just sell religious buildings like that? And what do you mean, ‘our new apartment building’? What have you done?”

“Yes to all that. I bought us a building. We can live upstairs and have our businesses on the ground floor. My wood workshop will be in the back with a window to your café in the front so people can have a coffee and snack while they watch me build stuff. Whaddaya think?”

“I think you’re nuts.  I love it!”

 

Chopped! – Friday Fictioneers

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Good Wednesday morn, my peeps!  Rochelle has given us a most interesting picture to use today. It is thanks to Ronda Del Boccio that I found myself immediately sent in the direction I went. Sometimes we just have to let it go, eh? To play along, just click on the frog below and you’ll be taking to the squares where you can add your own story to the mix.  G’head, you know you wanna….

      G’head, Try me!

Chopped

“What the hell, Mom?”

“What?” Mom’s voice was muffled as her head was deep into the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for one more ingredient.”

“For what?”

“I am challenging you to create a dish with the black olives and the peach jelly and something else.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“You’ve seen the show. Made your snarky comments. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Who’s gonna judge?”

“Jeff. He’s in town.”

“How about some beef? And we can use the pantry, right?”

“There’s the spirit!”

“Prepare to be chopped, Lady!”

“I think not.”

 

 

 

 

Where Has Our Collective Patience Gone?

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I had a ten o’clock appointment this morning – a way overdue oil change and inspection for the special price of $57.45, which we KNOW will never cost just that because there will be this and the other.  A whole nother story.

I leave my house at 9:25, giving myself more than ample time to get there. I take the exit to get on Highway 132 to head west. This exit, like most, if not all, the ones in Quebec, is beyond annoying. It means peeps have to criss-cross each other to get to where they want to go.  Those coming out of the tunnel and wanting to go east must try to squeeze in by those coming from Hwy 20 (like me) who want to go west. There are three lanes going into two, the middle one being used for either east or west. Heaven forbid the guy going in the same direction as you actually lets you in. No, no, we don’t want that so we force them to slow down by turning towards them. It is quite the spectacle. Of course the two lanes leading west will merge into one so the ones on the right must find their way into the left before reaching the highway itself.  Again, fun stuff.

Once on the hightway, the speed limit is 100 km/h which most of us figure means minimum.  Ahem. And so we drive at 110-119 (because rumour has it the cops won’t waste their time before you hit 120). I am driving along, listening to my music and the traffic slows. The guy behind me is so far up my ass I figure he’d like me to pop the trunk so he could hitch a ride.  There are cars ahead of me and beside me. It is obvious I could not even try to move over and let him fly by. I raise my hand to him in a “what the fuck do you want from me?” manner and ignore him.  The reason the traffic had slowed? There was a truck in the right lane behind a tree that had just blown over INTO THE HIGHWAY! Did I forget to mention the wind is beyond fierce today?

We pass said situation and I can move over. “Honda-Casquette” – We call the young pups with their Hondas and their baseball caps (“casquette”) this endearing term – because they all have the same bad driving habits. My son is one though he doesn’t wear baseball caps.  Anyhoo… Honda-Casquette speeds past me, swerves in front of me and then, get this, slams on the brakes so he can take the same exit I am.  Dude. He is then stuck behind others making their way towards another highway (see merging scenario above).  Soon as he gets a chance, he once again swerves in front of me and takes off like a bat outta hell. I see him flying between cars ahead zipping in and out. I do not wish ill on these drivers because of karma. But if I did…

I pull into my dealer’s garage, greet my service guy, at 9:50, by the way, and regale him and his cohorts with my tale. He then tells me that this morning the peeps with appointments seemed to think the time given was just a “guideline” of sorts.

As if your 7:30 appointment means any time between 7:30 and 8:30.  Sigh. My one-hour appointment was going to be longer, I am afraid.  “No worries, J-F, I had planned on going for a leisurely breakfast and brought my book.”  And off I go, practically blown across the street. Of course it starts to rain and of course, I have no hood on my jacket but I make my way – a good, I dunno 1000 feet away? and arrive rather wet.  Get my booth and my coffee and am promptly forgotten by my waitress.

Two chapters and an empty cup later, my waitress sheepishly comes by and says, so sorry, we’re not busy, which ironically I understand as I now am in the bidness. We make more mistakes and forget more things when we have too much time on our hands. Good thing her colleague noticed me sitting there.  She takes my order, brings me another coffee and I’m happy.

By 11:45, I make my way back to the dealership and sit down, figuring my car should be ready.  I decide to get up to get the wifi password and can see into the garage where I note my car is up in the air. Groovy. I am so glad my book is good.

Jean-François comes to get me sometime close to one o’clock. Total bill? $161.58. A little of this and a little of that.

I had plans to go do some shopping and whatnot but frankly, I just wanted to get home. I drive out of the lot and some doofus has blocked an entrance to another business so the guy coming towards us cannot get in and is blocking his lane. I shake my head and wait for the light, let the guy pass and miss my own light. Fine.  The guy behind me starts honking because we are allowed to turn right on red after 9 am. However, I do not feel inclined to run over the pedestrian who is making his way across. Again my WTF hands go up. The man makes it to the curb so I turn onto my street.  Guy behind me drives to my right on the shoulder only to see there is a truck parked in the way so now he has to come back in. And is lucky the guy in front of me did coz no way in hell I would have.  I am laughing in my car all by myself, lemme tell you.  We pass the truck and the guy once again goes onto the shoulder to take the same exit as I am, which is a grand total of 25 feet (maybe, I may exaggerate) away.  Patience. Zilch.

 

All Hallow’s Eve – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #51

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In honour of Hallowe’en, my participation in Crispina’s challenge…

All Hallow’s Eve

“That’s a mighty fine web you’ve woven.”

“Thanks, I’m trying a new material.”

“Looks fine but I don’t see it working out.”

“Whyever not?”

“Not sticky.”

“Not meant to be. Do you not find it represents a Samhain’s Wheel better than our silky webs would?”

“Well, yes. But why?”

“It’s Hallowe’en, silly!”

“So?”

“Samhain is the origin of today’s Hallowe’en festivities.”

“Oh… I see, sorta…”

“I just wanted to put a positive spin on things!”

“So, you are NOT trying to capture any food, then.”

“Nope, not tonight.  Just want to celebrate the new year, the end of the harvest, the beginning of the dark half. You know, like the ancient Celts did.”

“But we’re not ancient, nor are we celts.”

“You suck, you know that?”

“I can’t. You’ve no bugs for me.”

 

Word count: 133

And for our cranky, hungry spider, my photo 😉

And because I took this photo this morning and it has its own spookiness and I just wanted to share it… here’s looking at you…

 

Big Plans – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #50

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Welcome to Crispina’s FUN, FUN, FUN challenge. There are no rules.  Well, there is but one, which Crispina herself totally broke this week, and that is the maximum word count.  Supposed to not go past 150. I guess like any rules, some are made to broken, occasionally. If you want to see the list of possibilities for this prompt, just click here.  I, once again, tried to find a “matching” photo which kinda comes into play in my story 😉

Big Plans

She had a grand plans for the house. She was going to renovate it and make it hers. She’d remodel the kitchen, moving a wall, adding extra cabinets and much needed counter space. Once she was done there, she’d redo the bathroom, change the tiles and replace that God-awful toilet and sink. Following that, she’d strip the floors and restain them a nice dark colour. She had ideas for the landscaping too, including installing a beatiful gate to replace the horrid wood one. Her humble abode was going to become her haven.

Oh the visions she had!

Oh, the funds she had not!

What she needed to do was scale down her ideas into smaller, more manageable jobs. Things like adding a coat of paint…

***

Word count: 125

 

 

Do You Understand? Comprends-tu?

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It’s not usually my style to rant about things, but.

This. Bugs. Me.

I know it’s not new and it is a phrase used in earnest at times. When teaching children whatever we teach them, we want to make sure they understand.

However.

Now? It is used like a period. Or an “eh” (OK, I’ll allow that is more of a Canadian thing). Or a thoughtless way to end a phrase. It drives me nuts and they do it in English and in French. Actually, there are two in English.

Do you understand?

Do you know what I mean?

Comprends-tu?

Jee-zus. It is patronizing, insulting and annoying. And the worst part? Those who use it don’t even realise they are using it. All. The. Time.  It has become a habit, an addendum, if you will.

Where once you had the Valley-girl talk, where ‘like’ and ‘totally’ are inserted willy-nilly, words are drawn out and phrases are singsongy with upswings inserted here and there so the speaker sounds like they are questioning themselves in insecurity. (Okay, there is STILL a lot of “liking” going on…)

Then there is the vocal fry. Oh. Em. Gee… I’ve only ever heard women do this. It’s when the voice goes all the way down and becomes gravelly and sounds like they are running out of air. It is the worst. And not only does it sound particularly annoying, it is apparently rough on the vocal chords.

Which brings me back to my main pet peeve. You understand?

I was listening to “Q the Music” with Tom Power a while ago and I cannot even remember the name of the musician he was interviewing but every friggen sentence ended with a “D’you know what I mean?” Had I been Tom, I would have said: “YES! I, too, am a musician, and understand what you are talking about!” However, he remained polite throughout. Good on you, Tom. I had to turn off the interview after five minutes.

I was having a simple conversation with a young, twenty-something co-worker who was probably bitching about work and saying stuff like “I’m so tired of doing double shifts, do you understand?” Or, “She is so bossy, telling me what to do instead of doing it herself, d’you understand?” Yeah, Bud, I know. I work here, too.

Sample conversation:

Him: So, we gotta take this piece off, first, you understand?

Me:  Yes, gotcha.”

Him: Coz if this piece stays on, it’ll block the doohickey, understand?

Me:  Right

Him: So after this piece comes off, then we twist this, understand?

Me: Uh huh.

By now, I’m ready to understand him against the wall.