You may not have noticed, but I have a tendency to be somewhat irreverent at times. It’s never done with any malicious intent, I’m perfectly capable of going full asshole when I choose to. But I do recognize that even when something is said or written for a laugh, there are those who either don’t get the joke or don’t think the topic at hand lends itself to jokery.
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Category / Lesbian
Anything Can Happen Sunday – Monday Edition
One of the best aspects of JBACHINGTAWHS (Just Because Anything Can Happen Is No Guarantee That Anything Will Happen Sunday, formerly known as Anything Can Happen Sunday, or ACHS), is its flexibility. So, if on Sunday I were to close my eyes for a bit in an effort to vanquish a headache, only to wake up hours later with the day almost over and nothing written, it’s perfectly acceptable to open the publishing window a little wider and post Sunday’s story on Monday. Continue reading →
The Prize Patrol, Mormons and Jethro Tull
I’d love being the only one to have experienced some event or occurrence, so when someone interrupts my story to say, “I know how you feel. Something like that happened to me,” I can dramatically put my hand to my forehead and say, “That’s not the same. It’s not the same at all. The person in front of you only had eleven items! The one I was trapped behind had fourteen. Fourteen!” Then I’d clutch my pearls and say, “My heavens! I do believe I’ve got the vapors!” just before I collapsed onto that fainting couch I keep meaning to buy.
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All The Poets Can Relax
It’s no secret that were it not for my friend Gillette (so named because she’s edgy like a razor) this blog would not have been resurrected. Gillette is a gift-giving savant who on more than once occasion has presented me with gifts eerily perfect for for jump-starting my creativity. For example, Anything Can Happen Sunday is a direct result of Gillette giving me the book 642 Things To Write About.
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Best Grass In The Barony
As the sun begins to set over the charming little village nestled in the rolling hills of my barony, I can usually be found on the balcony of my palatial country estate. More often than not, I’ll be joined by a handful of villagers or a few invited guests. There we’ll sit, talking and laughing, until the show begins. When that happens, the talking stops.
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When You Have Children You’ll Understand
There are those who seem to feel that people without children live in a washed out, black and white world unable to enjoy the vivid palette of emotions and experiences known to those who have spawned. Some biological event takes place when these once-normal folk become parents, rendering them virtually incapable of interacting normally with child-free people.
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The Worst Words
Depending on how old you are, you may not remember George Carlin; and depending how drunk you were, you may not remember 1972. So for the youngsters and drunksters out there, George Carlin was a well-known comedian who often pushed the boundaries of what was considered “acceptable” entertainment . Continue reading →
Anything Can Happen Sunday: 7th Grade Diary Edition
A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned something about sharing a few excerpts from my 7th grade diary. A
nd what better time to do that than on Anything Can Happen Sunday? So pop open a Tab, put on your Dittos and feather your hair, because I’m going back to 1978 and I’m taking all of you with me! Continue reading →
Ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do
More and more often I see or hear or read something that makes me feel like I’m getting increasingly bad at being a member of the gay community. For example, I don’t know even know if “the gay community” is still a thing. If it is, are the qualifications for membership still the same? And if it isn’t, then what group am I a member of?
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And Now A Word From Our Sponsor
I love television. I always have and I suspect I always will. I saw the first episode of Sesame Street, tuned in for MTV‘s first day on the air and generally fell asleep trying to stay up and watch Saturday Night Live during its early seasons. Television has been my companion, my babysitter and my teacher. I can walk into my kitchen and instantly forget what I went in there for, but I can remember theme songs and commercial jingles from better than forty years ago.
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Pucker Up Buttercup 