I Don’t Like To Write Posts When…

How many times have you hear that around the house?  “I don’t like to write posts when…!” 

I hear it all the time and I live alone.  So I imagine it is even worse when you have a spouse, roommate, family, boarders, or are in prison or something like that. 

If you are not alone, you must hear it at least twice as often as I do.  I understand. 

In short, I hate to write posts when I don’t have photos to post…and tonight was such a photoless and yet photo-filled night!  Not photos I took, but phtos…sorry, misstyped that…but photos that other people took. 

I parked my car two blocks from the restaurant where my friends were waiting and I was stopped twice for a photo.  I did not panic much when four or five (maybe six) young women ran up to me for a picture.  I’m used to it.  I am kind of handsome.  My mother and my aunts say so all the time.  Plus I seem to have a propensity for drunk people.  They like me.  Like iron filings to a magnet.  And like a magnet, I’m not particular.   So we took our photo and off they went.  Polar opposites.

Then a group of trainspotting thugs said “Hey, Jim Beam.”  Jim Beam?  They thought I looked like Jim Beam.  Who the fuck is Jim Beam? 

(Did I again use the F word in a post?  I think I used it in its proper sense, however, although I thoroughly disapprove of it unless I am giving directions and it is a word I never mutter in front of anyone older than me, out of respect…am I on a tangent?  My WordPress rating is going down the toilet to R at any moment.) 

So who the flip is Jim Beam?   I have no idea.  Send me your photos.  I need to see if Jim Beam is as handsome as I think he is.

Eventually I get to the restaurant.  Oh, the fuss.  Photos and all.  A friend of mine will tell you that I have Snookie thing going now.  I do…kind of.  (Another tangent.) 

I had no idea until I saw a Larry King special in some little bar tonight that Snookie was a woman.  Yes, really.  I thought Snookie was some guy from New Jersey calling himself The Answer or The Element or something.  What do I know?  I don’t watch TV.  If you do, tell me why you do.

But this was not the fist time I have been stopped for photos.  I look less like any celebrity you can imagine, but I get asked for photos.  Think of a celebrity…any celebrity…I don’t look like him or her.  Brooke Shields?  Nice try.  No.  

David Bowie?  Again, clever.  Nice try.  No. 

Carl Sagan?  No.  

Roland Barthes?  No. 

August McGilicuddy?  No.

Michael Jackson?  No. 

Snookie?  No.

Stop asking.

I seemed to be asked for photos though.  I have had my photo taken, for example, — and I do not lie about this or many things — at the Grand Canyon, Hollywood Walk of Fame, La Jolla Cove, and the Lyn-Lake Art Fair in Minneapolis.  Oh!  And Grand Old Day with my very short dating experience … we’ll call her Patrice from France …. in St. Paul. 

So people take pictures of me.  I like to think that they do so for good reasons.  I just haven’t anything to share.  Plus it is getting late.   The real reason I end up in pictures is more convincing:  I am getting old and funny looking.

And that brings me to the whole point of this post.  One of my New Years Resolutions.  I will post 365 days this year.  Sometimes about sales, sometimes not.  occasionally, maybe frequently, they will be rambling incoherent posts like this one (usually a sign that I need to take a leak) but I will try to post something worthy of a grade schooler’s grammar assignment.   I might even post a picture or two.

I write better if I have an audience.  Tell your friends.


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