Meat mania!

I belong to a community-based website that allows folks in my part of town to post notices – lost dogs, community council meetings, crime reports, etc. This was posted on the site a couple of days ago:

338 o meat


Several thoughts came to mind:

  1. Looks like someone just locked up “Salesperson of the Month” for January.
  2. Seems like the grandson has a bone to pick with the seller. A T-Bone!
  3. The seller was just knighted by Queen Elizabeth II. Call him Sir Loin.
  4. Grandma actually only needed $10 worth of meat, but since she didn’t have Amazon Prime Rib she needed to buy $335 worth to get free shipping.
  5. If you want the best quality meat, you have to buy it out of the trunk of someone’s car.
  6. There’s a special place in hell reserved for folks who prey on housebound grandmothers. And they’re probably enjoying plenty of juicy flame-broiled steaks.
  7. “Meat peddlers” would be a great name for a punk rock band.
  8. Alert the authorities:


All dolled up

Apparently there’s a new Chucky movie coming out this year. I find it tough to get really scared by a child’s doll… unless it’s the doll that my older brother and I stole from our kid sister when she was five. We cut off all of the doll’s hair (what older brother hasn’t done that?). But we didn’t stop there. We painted her eyes with glow-in-the-dark paint. Now that was super-freaky, and not in a Rick James way.

But how can something induce spine-chilling fear when it doesn’t even have a spine? I know kids who can break toys in their sleep, just by rolling over onto them.

I’ll admit there’s something creepy about Chucky’s eyes. But if he can get his own seven-film franchise, then here are some other movie pitches:


First she’ll talk your ear off… and she won’t rest until you DIE of boredom. 



betsy wetsy

She’ll make YOU pee your pants with fright. 


baby sees all

She knows what you did last summer. 


Why limit it to dolls, though? How about other classic kiddie toys?


The next thing he’ll be digging… IS YOUR GRAVE! 


Penny for your thoughts

Is a company really showing ads that reinforce offensive, racially-demeaning stereotypes? In 2015?

Apparently so. Guess we haven’t come that far since Mickey Rooney’s role in 1961’s “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Shameful.


Fly like a… piggy

This week I signed up to run the Flying Pig Marathon‘s half-marathon. A year ago, 13.1 miles was about 13 miles more than I could probably run. But after dropping more than 25 pounds, my old-man, arthritic knees don’t sound like Rice Krispies (“snap, crackle, pop!”) as much as they used to. I’ll never be mistaken for The Flash, but I should be able to handle a half-marathon at my glacial pace.

African Giant Tortoise (Testudo sulcata)

The marketer in me wishes there were another, better name for a half-marathon. Having the word “half” in it diminishes the significance of the event. It makes it seem half-hearted, or half-assed. Some folks say “second place is just another name for first loser.” To them, having a “13.1” sticker on your car is like saying “I quit halfway through!” or “When the going got tough, I hopped on the shuttle bus!”

13-1 equals quitter

Now I understand that Pheidippides didn’t run halfway from the Battle of Marathon to Athens and then say “I’ll just stop here, I’m starting to get some blisters on my feet. Everyone can read about the big victory in tomorrow’s papyrus.” But still, 13.1 miles is a looong way to run for mere mortals. From here on out, all half-marathons should be renamed as 21K races. Or better yet, a 23,056-yard dash.

Recipe for Success – the 7th and Final Day of the Your Turn Challenge

God may have rested on the 7th day…


…but those of us taking the Your Turn Challenge don’t have that luxury.

Today’s thought-starter is: What are you taking with you from this Challenge?

Well, for starters there’s my very special award:

participant large

I also got a year’s supply of Rice-A-Roni and a copy of the Your Turn Challenge home game!

Rice-A-Roni   blog in a box

But the main things I’ll be taking from the Your Turn Challenge are:

  • a soupçon of satisfaction for completing a challenge that scratched my creative itch and stretched my writing muscles.
  • a dollop of confidence that I can – and will – ship more often.
  • a pinch of smugness from using the word “soupçon” in this post and for learning how to insert the special character (ç what I did there?)
  • a heaping helping of gratitude for Winnie, whose hard work, encouragement – and initial failure – made this whole thing possible.
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