Daily Limerick
May contain immature content; if you're a minor, go away!
(c)1999-2014 John "Sloop" Biederman
E-mail us here--
missives@dailylimerick.net
Archives: April 2014
DAILY LIMERICK 4/1/2014:
Dumb Facebook posts? Try to give slack
to those 'bout ill health--won't give flak!
But it doesn't seem right
When "friend's" post, sis health fight,
finds me "liking"...a heart attack?

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/1/2014:
Spotted a sign advertising some entity's "March Madness Diaper Drive."

Now, we know people get ridiculously excited about the tournament, but THAT excited?...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/2/2014:
Decades as pub trans, urban dude,
to driving lots 'gain, can conclude,
though both pros/cons rating,
car stems salivating
o'er years of ads! Frontier--fast food!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/2/2014:
Now, I like seasoning salt.

And I like French fries.

But there's a time and a place for everything. So keep your seasoned salt away from my French fries...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/3/2014:
Though, myself? Say, "Eh," to the jive...
For March Madness, goes nuts, the Hive!
Knew folks got excited,
but sign sure brought fright! Kids--
c'mon! "March Madness Diaper Drive"?

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/3/2014:
Unsure whether a mail offer, e- or traditional, is real or spam/junk?

Look for the word "kindly."

Nobody uses the adverb otherwise.

NOBODY.

"Kindly click on the link below to access your bank account"; "Kindly return the postage-paid envelope for your FREE gift!"

Etc.

What the hell's that supposed to mean, anyway? That you treat the envelope or keyboard with "kindness"?

"Kindly," our asses...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/4/2014:
In cars, cells no longer reign free--
'cross land, new laws' cell refrain be,
"hands-free" usage only!
But folks' minds, on phone be--
it's "hands-" kittens, cats, NOT "brain-free"!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/4/2014:
Sucks to realize you're out of underwear.

Chief Limericst checking in, here.

Well, I have underwear that needs to be washed, going back and forth between two locales, do my wash at one, keep an extra package of underwear at another and... Yeah.

So, I hate to go out of my way to buy underwear I don't need but... What options do I have, really? Free ballin'?

Uh-uh. Ain't about to, "Win one for the Zipper"...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/5/2014:
A Mexican cook who was stuck fer
more schemes to land crush--longed to tuck her
into bed, post lovin'!
Worked grill, stove and oven--
and made her into a guac-sucker!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/5/2014:
Happy Extra Cheezy... My Age Day!

See, I'm forty-five years old and today's 4/5, so... Ahem. Let's try again--

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...

******

SUNDAY DAILY LIMERICK 4/6/2014:
Your "in" box, strange e-mail you find. Be
it spam or not? Here's tip to mind! See
if it sports rarely used word--
useless, lame, 'fact, absurd!
Does it ask to clink link, "kindly"?

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/6/2014:
Happy Extra Cheezy... My Number in High School Football Day!

See, in high school football, my number was 46, and today's 4/6, so... Ahem.

More news as it's available...

***

SUNDAY STORY TIME 4/6/2014:
A SPECIAL, TOUCHING SECTION APPEARING SUNDAYS ONLY
(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Er...
...Not yet. Life's still a bit out of control. Slap and Yap at ya'...next week?...


******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/7/2014:
The saying, "Win one for the Gipper"?
From musty flick--but, seems, grows hipper!
Yet when you're short underwear...
Free ball? Devil may care?
Nope--won't "Win one for The Zipper"!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/7/2014:
Stumbled upon an interesting fact recently.

The first night game at the Chicago Cubs' Wrigley Field was not in fact in 1988.

Well the first Cubs night game there was in 1988.

But a night game was played by teams in the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League in 1943.

And, in keeping with the Cubs' and Wrigley's spirit, it wasn't even a real girls pro game.

It was an all-star game.

Now in then, circumstances coincide amid this thing called life and, suddenly, all it once, it makes perfect sense...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/8/2014:
Peddlers, junk mail/spam, are tech fed
data--hit your shill right on head!
So why, life insurance man,
shill Dad to up his plan--
when you've been told the man's dead?

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/8/2014:
News from our Twitter feed informs us of this--

"Police Bust Sexting Ring Involving More Than 100 Teens"

Anyone else long for the simpler times of yore--when teens engaged in more innocent monkeyshines, like huffing gas and playing with matches?...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/9/2014:
Hey--seasoned salt oft fits my druthers,
and fries? Love 'em near much as Mother!
But my French fry passion
is rather old fashioned--
so keep the two 'way from each other!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/9/2014:
A friend visited while I was away from home--and left behind some donuts he'd brought me.

Delightful gesture, of course but I was away from the homestead for a while, so by the time I got to the donuts, they were... Well, still fresh, but a wee bit less than fully soft, I guess you'd say. Getting toward staleness.

So, I was faced with a half-dozen donuts with the countdown to staleness on.

A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/10/2014:
Cops busted plot just 'bout to hatch--kids'
school sexting ring? Just WHAT'D they catch? Biz?
Long for simpler days'
light mischievous play--
huffing paint and playing with matches!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/10/2014:
Yesterday, a Pennsylvania school saw a mass school...stabbing.

Gotta give the kid points for originality, in any event...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/11/2014:
(Yawn.) 'Nother school rampage, death tally sees!
This time...knife--not gun?--courts fatalities!
A tragedy, sign of times!
Still, this one, 'least.... Well, I'm
giving points for orig'nality!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/11/2014:
Some of us here at the Daily Limerick, um, Towers have dealt with tourists quite a bit and think there's a market for a Soft Rock Cafe...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/12/2014:
Spring dresses here! Styles pastel, floral...
Gets me quickly thinking immoral!...
You've guessed what Lim'rick will say--
see coming, mile away...
Blah blah blah... Crave springtime oral!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/12/2014:
Just three months from Daliy Limeriick's FIFTEENTH Anniversary.

But who's countin'?...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...

******

SUNDAY DAILY LIMERICK 4/13/2014:
First Cubs night game, '80s, knows fame...
But real first, in '40s--league dames!
How strangely prophetic seems!
Sports' most pathetic team--
not real match, but "All-Star" game!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/13/2014:
Last week, the head of the U.S. Force Prohibition to Work Agency...er, the Drug Enforcement Agency proclaimed alarm at pot legalization for the sake of the...pets?

We've been mulling whether or not this government whackjob thinking is an improvement over traditional government whackjob thinking.

Nanny State vs...Pet Sitter State?...

***

SUNDAY STORY TIME 4/13/2014:
A SPECIAL, TOUCHING SECTION APPEARING SUNDAYS ONLY
(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Coming Next Week...
The Triumphant(-ish) Return of Sunday Story Time!...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/14/2014:
Chief, D.E.A., fears for job, "Wait!
Don't de-crim. pot! Think of...pets' fate!"
Says they'll...eat pot brownies?
Though prime, Grade A clown she
scares--"Nanny" to..."Pet-Sitter State"?

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/14/2014:
Okay, so I'm heading into work on the Chicago Transit Authority's "el"-evated subway (Chief Limericist checking in, here), a Friday, late morning...and the damn thing puts along.

Workers on the track.

They don't do this work during "rush hours," of course.

Because, in a city of nearly three million, I've gotta be the only guy not working that once, long ago, standard nine-to-five.

And on the first day near 70 degrees in Chicago, after a brutal winter, there wouldn't be anyone going downtown to enjoy the weather.

No need to reassess those time honored rules, though.

Why don't they just do all of the work on Saturday nights--you know, when everyone's taking a bath?...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/15/2014:
Like Hollywood slacks on the take,
Daily Limerick wants our fair shake!
Not sure how't works, non-movie,
but to slide'd be groovy--
phoning it in with remake!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/15/2014:
Our cable-TV onscreen grid informs us of a movie on the Family channel called, "Hercules and the Amazon Women."

Which, curiously, sounds like an "adult" feature we'd be interested in catching...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/16/2014:
Old friend stopped by... Missed weekly meeting!
Left half-dozen donuts--his treat thing...
Half-stale, by time got to stuff!
Guess when going gets tough,
well...the tough get donut eating!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/16/2014:
And so it appears the new "Tuscan"--hot, hip, euphemistic term to shill restaurants--is... "brioche."

Basically, bread.

Burgers on BRIOCHE buns, BRIOCHE French toast... If it sounds foreign, it's gotta be good, thinks the All-American Consumer.

Do the French buy up "exotic" wares like soda when their marketers dub it, "pop"?...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/17/2014:
Tips, tourists--large chunk of my pay!
As expert, I know how they play!
Traps set for them, like Hard Rock,
may miss the target schlock--
why not try "Soft Rock Cafe"?

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/17/2014:
Okay, we're a little late with this, but this year's Income Tax Day fell on a full moon.

Almost too obvious for its seemingly Fate-given terror, no?...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/18/2014:
Weekday, aft'noon, take train...arrive
late? "Men working tracks"--what's this jive!
Chicago, spring still run!
City of three million?
Nobody works non-nine-to-five?

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/18/2014:
So we all know about the Japanese filmmakers' reputation for horribly synched, English voice dubbing.

But did you realize that it also exists in, um, "adult" features?

And even when it's JAPANESE, for which you'd think there wouldn't be an excuse?

Or so we've been informed.

From, you know, a reputable source and such...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/19/2014:
At Taco Bell, young nymph lacked bucks,
so turned to mooch off dude in tux...
Said, "Sure! My name's Paco,"
then so stuffed her taco--
"sour cream" atop made it "deluxe"!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/19/2014:
Idea for a, um, TV show, or something, wherein a group of full adult males are somehow tossed together with a bunch of teenage girls.

Ready? This ain't pretty.

Okay... "The Un-Fuckables"...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...

******

SUNDAY DAILY LIMERICK 4/20/2014:
Sly Michael, known thief of the ears
from all's choc'late rabbits, was feared!
But lesson was taught to Mike,
Easter Morn, fore could strike--
woke to find ears in his rear!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/20/2014:
Happy Extra Cheezy Easter!... And Sunday Story Time returns!... So the death angle of today's essay, coupled with the rising-again angle of SST's reemergence, makes it all rather Easter-y!...

***

SUNDAY STORY TIME 4/20/2014:
A SPECIAL, TOUCHING SECTION APPEARING SUNDAYS ONLY
(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Digging a Grave
I don't imagine that many people in this day and age have dug a grave.

But I did just that almost a month ago. After digging it, I also filled the grave, with corpse and dirt.

I buried Chester, my companion of 12 years.

Chester was a cat--but I can't imagine the act being much gloomier were he human. Unlike even immediate family members, I spent time with Chester every single day, save trips out of town. He was one of my closest friends during some of the loneliest, roughest periods of my life...and I'll leave it at that.

You're either a pet person, or you don't get it.

Chester was a white cat, sprinkled with black and brown spots. A bit of a runt--pegged as a kitten by many at first, even as a full adult. A playful sort, loving his toys--many cats seem to play with everything BUT their proper toys. He played fetch much like a dog, liked to drink running water from a faucet, was fascinated watching ladies apply makeup...but in case you're a non-pet person, I'll lay off the obituary with that.

Twelve is not young for a cat. Yet under the standard, one-cat-year-equals-five-human-years, he'd have been below retirement--so not exceptionally old, either. I'd only taken him to the vet for checkups, and a teeth cleaning once, as he was especially healthy for his whole life.

Except, of course, for the final illness that eventually ended his life.

Chester had been through some recent tribulations, which may have accelerated his downfall, although the prognosis indicated that his health troubles were Fate--brought on by that villain who plays a role in the death of most living beings, Time. After more than a decade of a "no more pets" rule for renters of my condo's spare rooms, the Great Recession brought desperation--a boarder with multiple cats who joined my long-time pair of Chester and Millie.

Unlike dogs, cats aren't necessarily social. Especially for set-in-their-ways, mature felines, tossing unfamiliar cats together can be every bit as dicey as doing so with people. With time, it seemed that both Chester and Millie grew to accept the new living situation, but it didn't seem either was entirely happy with the full house.

On top of that, when my father passed away in early March, since I promised to take care of his cat, Flo, in the event of his passing, I moved my cats to join Flo out in the country/suburban family home I inherited, as I'm currently living between the two homes while I figure things out--and I sure as hell wasn't going to bring yet another cat into an already too-many-cats situation at my Chicago condo. Plus, family and friends were game for caring for the cats when I was in the city.

While all of the critters out that way, the extra space and the option of actually getting outside for a lifelong indoor cat are definite lifestyle improvements for felines--not to mention ditching the multiple invaders of the condo... Well, cats aren't crazy about moves. A former cat of mine hid in a bathtub for three days after a move.

Chester quickly adjusted to the new digs, watching wildlife out the windows and exploring the house. But soon, he seemed to be losing weight and less interested in his meals.

Now, it's often difficult to tell when a cat is ailing. Turmoil from the move could explain both of those symptoms, stomach upset and hairballs are common for cats and, given their nature, sometimes a cat is simply too lazy to pounce on a dish refill.

Nonetheless, it occurred to me that a turmoil-based weight loss didn't jibe with his house exploration and so I decided that, upon my next visit to the country, if Chester's appetite/weight seemed off, I'd take him to the vet.

On this visit, there was no doubt about it. Chester was having visible trouble walking. I'd physically carry him to his dish and... He'd eat a tiny bit, but mostly drink water. So it was off to the vet, who immediately informed me that things didn't look good. He shot Chester some antibiotics and fluids, as the fellow was dehydrated, gave me some high protein/vitamin paste to administer beneath his tongue, to counter his lack of sustenance, and took a blood test.

I was to hear the blood test results the next morning and...hope for the best.

The vet called in the morning and admitted surprise that Chester had even made it through the night. Kidney and liver failure.

Putting Chester to sleep became an option. But he was peacefully lying in a closet, not whining in pain at all, with little time left, so hauling him off for a stressful vet visit to die in unfamiliar surroundings seemed wrong.

I pet, hugged and checked on Chester every 10-15 minutes or so. I'd have carried him to where I was working on my computer, but Flo's perpetually seeking attention, so I spared Chester that bother. Found someone to cover my work shift that night, as otherwise I'd risk leaving him to die all alone, to be found days later upon my next return. I was having difficulty concentrating on the work and tasks I'd have otherwise busied myself with, so... I dug his grave ahead of time.

Early that evening, Chester died.

I carried his body outside in a cardboard box, dumped it into the grave, shoveled the displaced dirt back into place, patted it down... Awful. I'm still sporadically haunted by images of the ritual.

Shovel by shovel, tossing dirt onto the lifeless, physical shell of my long-term companion, watching the body slowly disappear... Ugh.

When Chester was in the early stages of ailing, but still mobile, I whipped out some of my cats' "fun stuff"--treats, catnip, toys--both to spur their integration to a new home and to stoke Chester's spirits.

When I returned to the homestead from the city, checking on Chester before that final vet visit, he'd brought one of his favorite toys, a felt/cloth, grey mouse, along with him to his closet resting spot.

Almost like a child with a Teddy bear.

Chester was known for such behavior.

So I like to think I followed his final wishes in burying him with that toy...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/21/2014:
All know, English vo dub synchs
in Japanese movies...well, stinks.
In fact, it's laugh roar! 'Fact be,
on good, er, 'thority,
extends to flicks of, um, "kink."

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/21/2014:
There's this TV commercial in late-night heavy rotation... Sort of a shill-PSA combination, as some doctor's offering a "free guide" on a newly named disorder and... Well.

Don't know about you, Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers, but we'd rather be referred to as "crazy" than being plagued by the Lovecraftian ailment of "Pseudo Bulbar Affect"...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/22/2014:
Watchable "fam'ly" flick choices? Slim-none!
One name threw me, but fore did begin fun...
Re'lized why, did exult!
Seemed like choice for "adult"--
"Hercules and the Amazon Women"!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/22/2014:
Time for some stereotyping.

All of what you are about to read assumes it does not apply to every member of the groups in question, just a large enough sample to justify the existence of stereotyping. This should always go without saying, especially in Daily Limerick.

Before you get all uppity... Let's say you're riding a bus, late at night, South Side of Chicago. A black man sits by you, wearing a suit.

If that makes you nervous, you're a racist bastard.

Let's say the black guy's bedecked in gold chains, pants hanging down to his thighs, blaring gangster rap from his ear buds... If that doesn't make you nervous, or at least slightly on guard, you're an idiot.

As we've mentioned before, stereotyping can be our friend. In fact, it can be a survival skill.

Enough with the disclaimers.

Now, we've just noticed this, but... There are a lot of surface similarities between gay guys and geek guys.

Spotted some guys talking on the subway recently, off the bat pegged them as homosexuals, then realized... "Wow! They're not gay...but nerds!"

They seemed somehow more into their conversation than dudes in regulation straight guy-on-straight guy chats. Not because they were chatting with one of the sex that turns them on--and we fully cop to feeling at least a slight thrill talking with an attractive women, rather than a guy, even if she's a completely platonic friend--but stemming from excitement in bantering with someone about a beloved topic like...oh, "Star Trek" or Google Glass or whatever the hell.

And geeks are, of course, more effeminate than average. Which is why they tend to get beat-up on playgrounds.

Of course, there are also gay nerds.

So we guess this is Daily Limerick's way of celebrating our modern, progressive, sensitive age.

Diversity in stereotyping...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/23/2014:
You sick of this word yet--"brioche"?
I sure am--and more than a scosche!
Like "Tuscan" and "applewood-
smoked," while the gettin's good,
hack ad man's hot go-to gauche!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/23/2014:
Here's a joke related to what many Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers are undoubtedly still eating as leftovers--

A man hears of a new company selling cured hams out by a dam and calling them "Dam Hams."

Excited about the dinner prospect, he brings one home to the wife, who prepares it for dinner the next night.

During this family dinner, the dad says to the wife at one point, "Could you pass the Dam Ham?"

To which his little daughter replies, "That's the spirit, Dad--now somebody pass me the fuckin' potatotes!"...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/24/2014:
Coffeehouse, as card from deck, luck would pull...
infested with jailbait! Why, chock-chock full!
To deal with the tempting load,
mind played out episode
of TV show--"The Un-Fuckables"!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/24/2014:
Noted an upcoming Chicago event, "Poets of Protest."

Struck us a bit funny, since protest works best when it reaches large numbers of people and poetry... Well, more folks are writing poetry than are reading it.

A bit like preaching to the choir.

Except that the choir isn't listening--just nodding and clapping mechanically, awaiting its turn to preach...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/25/2014:
TV shill--"Not 'motional train wreck,
but victim, 'Pseudo Bulbar Affect'"?!?
That term's freakin' nasty, man--
downright Lovecraftian!
I'd rather just be called insane, heck!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/25/2014:
So... April showers.

It's about time. Stinkin' hippie...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/26/2014:
Flamboyant gay dude, name of Amos,
upset friends--they'd cry, "Please, don't shame us!"
Yet Amos' antics
were so wild and frantic
he was destined to become..."flame-ous"!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/26/2014:
You know how the U.S. State Dept. now and then issues warnings for U.S. tourists--not to vacation in, say, Ukraine (to use a current example) or whatever?

Well, we've noticed this ad campaign to "Visit Detroit" and... Yeah.

Maybe the State Dept. should get on that...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...

******

SUNDAY DAILY LIMERICK 4/27/2014:
Effeminate moves of phyique;
bright-eyed, mix with those like selves, seek...
My ster'y'otype radar's
off! False alarm, Gay-dar--
why those guys ain't gays, they're big geeks!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/27/2014:
We keep seeing this term, "rape culture." And we don't know what to make of it. Or what, exactly, it, you know, means.

Now... Do we need the Disclaimer? That we despise the very idea of rape? Well, we beyond despise it.

And we know it's impolite to question this kinda thing, but, frankly, that's ridiculous.

Does this phrase imply that our culture encourages rape? If so, why haven't most guys committed rape? And if, by "culture," you mean humanity in general, do you have another lead species on a plant to compare statistics to?

We're at a loss.

Oh! Yogurt! Still don't understand it, but, of course, yogurt...

***

SUNDAY STORY TIME 4/27/2014:
A SPECIAL, TOUCHING SECTION APPEARING SUNDAYS ONLY
(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Giving the Homeless Bologna
I'm a nice guy. For good and bad.

People tend to like and trust me easily. I rarely have trouble getting along with others. But there's reason behind the saying, "Nice guys finish last" and, regardless of what women say, being a nice guy doesn't help you in the romantic department.

I'm not pushover or chump. But, still, being a nice guy brings good and bad.

Recently, I befriended a lady who is...homeless? Perhaps in a halfway house, maybe even in an actual home, but definitely poor enough to beg from strangers and be mistaken for homeless, if she actually isn't.

This isn't the first time. I strongly recall another time and may be forgetting others. Each of the two I remember started the same way--I was approached with panhandling, could've tossed the lady something and been done with it (yes, they were both ladies), but she turned talkative, more lonely than hungry/sober/cold/etc., and I indulged.

The first happened decades ago, when I was new to the Big City. I was amazed at how the woman seemed just like anybody else, rather than some rare breed called "homeless"--somehow less than human, thus easier to justify ignoring. Well, she was, of course, a bit nutty, but her expressed fears and concerns were relatable.

I was so moved that I wrote a poem about the encounter, and about her, "Rosalita." So I'll leave the long-ago experience at that, already creatively explored among my repertoire through verse.

Regarding the recent meeting, I work as a tour guide, had a day full of shifts, with a long break between them in the afternoon so, it being one of the first warm-ish days in Chicago this year, I bummed around downtown, rather than return home.

Did some errands, brought along my computer, put together some bologna sandwiches beforehand. I feel obliged to mention that I hadn't had bologna since Elvis-knows-when, but a friend had left a bunch with some rolls in my fridge--and some of the "good stuff," the slice-it-yourself, whole sausage kind from a deli counter.

I parked myself in an open, public area, seated by a fountain, in a spot popular among workers nearby for lunch, breaks, etc. Broke out some reading material and sandwiches, eye out for the spring lady skin, slowly emerging with fashion.

"You got another sandwich?"

I turned to discern the source of the question. A black lady, dressed for cold weather, about my age...I think. (I'm not the greatest judge of age by appearance.) She was seated quite a ways away from me, but was moving closer, next to me in fact.

"Sorry, this is all I have," I replied, gesturing to my half-eaten sandwich. "It's my lunch and dinner for the day."

She asked if she could have some of my sandwich, so I broke off a piece for her. She inquired about my job further. I told her about it, going out of my way to dub it "part-time"--as a form of preemptive strike to say, "Don't ask me for money, I'm struggling a bit myself," out of urban life habit.

She didn't ask for money, or a smoke, or even a light In fact, she offered me a half-smoked cigarette and accompanying lighter, which I refused, having my standard cigars on hand. So she was a friendly person who was not only hungry, but also lonely and/or bored.

Trying to eat the gift bologna before it went bad, I'd packed more sandwiches than I needed. "Actually, I forgot--I DO have another sandwich. My friend left me all this bologna..." I told her the tale of my friend's bologna, musing on how I might not have eaten bologna since childhood, but I didn't know why, as it was tasty and all.

She shared a similar lunchmeat history with me and we bologna bonded. She asked all sorts of questions about me and I asked a few about her, avoiding any about jobs or, of course, if she was indeed homeless. When she asked me where I lived, I did the same, receiving a perhaps evasive reply, "around here."

She was intelligent and personable, with a pleasant, outgoing charisma to her. Out of ingrained social habit, a part of me was eager to toss out an excuse and exit the area, but I legitimately enjoyed talking with her, killing time outdoors on a nice spring day with the nearby fountain as audio backdrop.

She spoke about a previous job at a nearby restaurant, from which she was fired for drinking. I then mentioned that I'd quit drinking many moons ago, which seemed to make her briefly uncomfortable--those with drinking problems tend to become uneasy around those who've conquered theirs. But her eyes also widened a bit after my revelation, as if to say, "Ahhh, so this nicely dressed, white dude is no stranger to strife."

She'd even said, her exact words forgotten, that people who've been through certain things can sense when others have been through the same things.

And, by the way, I keep calling her "she," not because I'm protecting her identity--although I'd probably do that in any event--but because I'm horrible with names, often forgetting them seconds after meeting someone. I thought, then and there, "Damn, what is her name...I'd like to address her by name when I say goodbye and when/if our paths cross again."

I'm sure this lady has a bevy of fascinating stories and she related a few. Once she was begging for food outside the House of Blues and some rich lady bought her a swanky hotel stay for three days, complete with all-you-want room service and all the uppity fixin's.

A man entered the area, she spied him and said, "There's [such-and-such]. He's gettin' me a new coat." She waved the guy over. "He's cool. He's a good guy. I wonder if he got my coat yet."

Her friend came over to us. She introduced us, back and forth, properly, identifying me as "cool" and or "a good guy." I wasn't made privy as to how this coat was being obtained, but by that point, I was leaning toward assuming it was through a bargain price, thrift store or some such, rather than by illegal means. The guy mentioned he was a "former stand-up comic" and worked some jokes into his conversation before going off to...get the coat, I assume.

When I finally decided to make my way over toward the tour bus startup point and said my goodbye, my new friend asked, "When will I see you again?"

I had no reason to believe her motives were anything but platonic, but I did wonder. For the record, I wouldn't be opposed to becoming involved with a homeless lady. Not saying it'd be likely, but I suppose if everything shook out just right.

In this case, homeless or not, I wouldn't get involved with a dame dabbling in alcoholism.

I walked away feeling good about myself. Not just in a guilty white guy, did-something-progressive way.

I felt a warm glow with new experience, a life lesson and reinforcement that, despite occasional self-grumbling, I'm fine with being a "nice guy," damnit!

It didn't hurt that she complimented my sandwich making.

"These are really good. I like a lot of mayo--not too much--and these are just right"...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/28/2014:
Show, "Poets of Protest" will reach...
Well, "poets" dwarf verse reader niche!
Like preaching to choir, this thing,
'cept this choir's not list'ning--
just 'waiting its turn to preach!

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/28/2014:
We've pondered humanity's raging addiction to technology on many occasions for you Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers.

As in, how folks use technology simply because it's there, regardless of the overall usefulness.

This isn't a new phenomenon. It goes back to at least the garage door opener--for folks living sedentary lives and likely turning around to pay money for fitness club membership--and accelerates with time, today finding folks watching movies on two-inch phone screens and downloading apps to hail taxicabs and such.

We're recently been reading about multi-media performances of things like comedy.

Comics, one reason people take in live entertainment is escape. Escape from things like work, which finds us wherever, whenever, thanks to our Goddamned smart phones and such.

So indulge your art, okay? We come to those shows to see the art of stand-up comedy, not some clever Powerpoint presentation or mini-movies, which work just fine for our home entertainment devices.

And these shows incorporating social media? Seriously, it's the freakin' e-water cooler of our modern age. We go to shows to enjoy the PROFESSIONALS, not a wacky cubicle neighbor...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/29/2014:
While eager for May's gift of flowers,
hot topic now is "April showers."
My one-fifth o' dime?
Well, it's about time!
(At least from what I've heard about her!)

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/29/2014:
Read a story about that "El Chapo" Mexican drug lord recently, on how they finally caught the guy. Seems these guys always slip up.

Dude should've stayed somewhere that nobody would ever stumble upon him. Like, say, Google+...

******

DAILY LIMERICK 4/30/2014:
At end of a grueling work day, Joe's
yen was buy new Dam Ham on way home!
At meal, "Pass Dam Ham here, kid!"
Lil' girl, "That's the spirit
dad--pass the fucking potatoes!"

***

SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/30/2014:
I'm a big cereal eater, but there's an inherent trick to eating it.

Combining the crispy and crunchy goodness with milk, a liquid, one's always in danger of resultant soggy cereal.

I recall, as a child, my grandfather's advice on the matter. "Pour the milk in first, then the cereal atop." Wisdom of the ages, indeed.

But recently, I've taken that advice a step further.

Pour yourself a good bowl of milk, grab a spoon and the cereal box, get yourself comfortable--and pour a light layer of cereal atop the milk. Eat that--reveling in its extras crunchy goodness all along--and, as the shampoo bottles advise, repeat as often as desired.

Crunch with a punch!...