Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
SEGP (pronounced seagep) (floofinition) – Flooflosophy followed by many housepets, SEGP is sleep, eat, groom, play. Floof SEGP adherents, often called seageptians, believe following the flooflosophy helps them achieve a longer, more satisfying life.
In use: ‘When the young cat met the household’s established bird resident, the latter told the cat, “We follow SEGP in this house.” The cat replied, “I’m not familiar with that.” The bird answered, “See the dog. He’ll teach you.”‘
A long time known
Watching them grow
Kisses and hisses, barks and growls
Friendship and watchfulness
Without churches, witnesses or vows
They’re there for you and you for them
Fur people fur minders fur irritants
Fur friends
Are you ready for a funny underwear story? I have none like this. Seems like nothing funny ever happens to me — or Suzanne has great skill at creating comedy out of anything.
On Wednesday, I decided to do some laundry. When I went to take the clothes out of the dryer, it turned out I was missing a pair of underwear. This may sound like a First World problem, but it was my LUCKY pair of underwear. And I was pretty upset because what the hell happened to my lucky underwear? I’m pretty sure it went INTO the dryer, so where did it go? Is there really an alternate universe where a strange little leprechaun-type man says “Ooh, that’s just lovely. Feel that fabric! I MUST have this lucky underwear which is most certainly somebody’s favourite!” and then you never see it again until there’s a rainbow?
I checked the washing machine AND the dryer at least twice more and there was no sign of it. Then I searched my closet—same thing. Then I backtracked and followed my…
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Dreams about being a hero or celebrity but also about being unknown or not recognized have proliferated the past dream week. One stays strongest in mind.
A minor celebrity, I was visiting somewhere after being on tour. I was my real age in this and had stopped at someone’s invitation and met a group of teenagers. I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me. They were cold, even hostile to me, which amused me. I didn’t care, but enjoyed watching what they were doing. On a stage, they were putting together a game. Their purpose and rules were totally lost on me but I was engrossed with trying to understand them. Multiple sexes, races, ethnicities, cultures were present. They were a bubbly group.
Supplies arrived. They were given to me. Seeing them, I had an idea for a game for them and began employing these stickers for the idea. The stickers were different shapes and colors. Halfway through, I realized, oh, shit, they had plans for these. I began putting the stickers back where they belong. One young woman came up and chastised me, then took the stickers, complaining that I’d ruined them. I apologized. It wasn’t accepted.
By then, I’d learned what their game was all about. I then criticized them about being insular and isolated. I told them they had some great ideas but they should share them with others. They soberly listened and then one identified me as a writer which she’d seen on television. Yeah, yeah, that’s me. They warmed to me then. One, in a white sweater and red pants, came to me and asked me about my foundation. Was it true? Did I really have it? Yes, I did, it was set up to help youth have food and shelter security and encourage education and learning. And, she asked, was I really supporting 5,000 children? The number surprised me, but I verified with my assistant, yes, that’s true. There are 5,000.
End dream
Note: Another post which WordPress refused to save or published, forcing me to do it in stages. Create a base, add and change, add and change more. Irritating AF.
Sunday used to be the day for going out and doing things fun. Might not be so for your culture or region. I know Sunday was held back by many families for worship and visiting with other families, or for quiet days at home. But for mine, a day of rest meant going on picnics, hitting the beach, grilling out, or going to movies or amusement parks. If not that, it was back to playing ball, some kind, somewhere.
I was a shift worker for the first ten years of my military career, which diluted Sunday’s importance. As hourly and shift workers know, your schedule dictates the day of the weeks for your personal agenda. Monday is the first day of work and Friday is your last, regardless of the true date. Naturally, there were clashes between my work week and the real world work week. If real Sunday is my Friday, work would be generally quiet in the military but the urge to cut loose and relax was there. Really didn’t happen on Sunday. Also, I worked rotating shifts so my Friday ended at 6 or 7 AM, after an 8- or 12-hours shift.
Today is Sunday, April 23, 2023. 56 F, we expect 68 F. Rained during the night, and the ground is drying as clouds cut out the sunshine and its effects. But after entering Ashlandia’s air at 6:17 this morning, the sun has tangoed around the clouds, limning gray edges with silver. It is spring out there, to which I say, huzzah. Sunset will take Ashlandia’s sun away at 8:02 PM. The cats are certainly enjoying it, luxuriating in sunshine whenever they stop to wash, watch, play, or sleep.
Having just returned from a short vacay, I’m already contemplating another. Getting into the spirit, The Neurons (TN, as they like to be called) brought up Weezer’s 2001 medley, “Island in the Sun”. I like the mellow tune about being relaxed. It’s a keeper.
Hit the refresh button. Begin again, another day, another effort, another chance, another outcome. Stay pos. Here we go with Weezer. Hip, hip. I’m off for coffee. Hip, hip. Cheers
Note or two: Saving or publishing this post today was a pain. WP wouldn’t load. Wouldn’t save a draft of this. Hung while trying to publish, once, twice, thrice. MW, other posts were created. Just this one wouldn’t go up. Drove me nuts. Of course, most things drive me nuts when they won’t work as expected. Was finally able to publish by not putting in any tags, etc. So it was published in stages – post, a few categories, added words and changes, next a few tags, finally the last of the tags.
He and his wife were talking. She used the idiom, ‘like nobody’s business.’
“Why do we use that?” he asked. “I mean, I know what it means in this context but how did it come to be used in this context to begin?”
She didn’t know. He did research but didn’t find much that satisfied his need.
It was bugging him like nobody’s business.
Another WTF America moment enshrined on the net.
The United Steaks
In Possum Hollar, customer assistance improves when you are packing heat:
REPUBLIC, Mo. — On April 18, Republic Police Department officers were called to a Price Cutter to respond to a call about a robbery in which a man held an employee at gunpoint so that he would be served meat…
The employee said he received a call from the meat department about a man packing his own meat. The employee approached [Larry Gene Gay, 70, of Springfield] and told him that he could not be there. Gay got upset and said he was going to keep doing what he was doing. The employee said he was not going to help him with the meat.
“Once he held the gun to my throat — pushed it into my throat — I decided to comply,” the employee told police.
You see, the dude with his gun convinced…
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Michael Seidel, writer 