Through The Nevers

Never ride on a ostrich’s back
Never should you sport a mullet
Never mix Jager with lemonade
Never pick your nose in public

Never make promises that you can’t keep
And end up with one that is broken
Never bite off more than you can chew
Never chew with your mouth open

Never call him before three days is up
Don’t giggle when you’re in the sack
And never should you say I love you until
You’re certain that you’ll hear it back

Never take candy from strangers and
Don’t take wooden nickels as well
Never buy egg rolls from shoe salesmen
Or bridges that they’ve go to sell

Never wear white after Labor Day
Never wear brown shoes with black
Never go out with panty lines showing
Never wear a fanny pack

Never go to sleep before you make up
Or believe what you can’t see
And never reject a stranger’s advice
As long as they give it for free.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been inspired by a prompt, but when this one came around yesterday, I just couldn’t resist.


Gathered Rosebuds

His beautiful wife, the lines on her face,
The years of youth they seem to erase,
Yet he will never see her so crudely,
And only sees time to increase her beauty.

And it makes him so sad when she does appear,
To turn away from her reflection in the mirror,
And look longingly at her slit skirts before they are dismissed,
With fonder memories, a bittersweet reminisce.

And so to a flower shop he does enquire,
To send a bouquet from a secret admirer,
So that his wife may secretly gloat,
About who would send her such flowers but not a note.

And so he comes home and says to her “Pray,
Tell me what special things happened today!”
Only to see his wife’s mood was not lifted,
By these dozen roses so secretly gifted.

Ideas of an admirer for her may exist,
A notion the woman has quickly dismissed,
“An old woman like me just puts them in water,
For surely such beauty was meant for my daughter.”


The F Bomb

Kim, Michelle and me and Stef,
We swore we all were BFFs,
But then Kim got a boyfriend and it seemed for sure,
She didn’t want to be our friend no more.

And then Michelle started hanging out with Jenn,
So we never spoke to her again,
Which left me and good old Steffy,
But then I turned rock and she turned preppy.

And we drifted apart and so much has changed,
As we reunite on a Facebok page,
A cycle that has run complete,
With memories so bittersweet.

But I guess that now we all know best,
And probably should have left off that last F.





A Poem That Takes The Cake

When reading this morning’s Daily Post,

My interest was aroused,

When asked what I would I do,

If I found a strange couple eating cake in my house.

You see it matters not who the couple is,

Or whether into my house they did break,

Let’s focus on what’s important here,

And readers, that is the cake.

For if they brought more for me and my family,

Well, you see, that is fine,

And this couple are now our dearest of friends,

And welcome back any time.

But if from my fridge, the cake they did take,

Well readers, now they are done,

And they better get the hell out of my house,

Or I’m calling 911.


I’m Breaking Up With You Because…

This was actually one of the first blogs I wrote and today’s Daily Prompt inspired me to reblog it. (Hope that isn’t cheating.)

Recently, I was inspired by a blog written by new favorite blogger The Office In Betweener ( (If you haven’t read his blog you really should). He said he was trying to follow a blog written by a woman who was trying to go on 30 dates by the time she was 30 and blogging about them.

This does seem like an interesting premise for a blog and it made me reflect on the many, many dates I went on when I was younger. However, being on the rock n’ roll dating scene, they weren’t so much dates as a series of glorified booty calls. Still, my experiences prepared me a virtual pupu platter of men which I sampled without the complications of a full on relationship.

The problem, or maybe not the problem, but one of the desired outcomes, is that these relationships often fizzle out rather than coming to an ugly ending in which you tell each other how you really feel.  However, sometimes I wish I could tell them what idiots (cute idiots, but idiots nonetheless) they appeared to be at various times. So here I go, vicariously making fools of all of them in open Dear John letters. I will change the names to protect the innocent.

Dear Eddie,

Because you have a mommy complex, because it is not cute to put the adjective ‘Little’ before your name when we all know you are about 5 years older than most of the people in the club, and because 5’2 is definitely too short for a man.

Dear Jamie,

Because I really can’t be with a guy who can’t tear himself away from a mirror, who takes longer to get ready in the morning then I do, who may be gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and if not missed a really good opportunity, and, oh yeah, who has a very obvious nose job.

Dear Marc,

Because you really need to get a car. I simply can’t be driving you home every time after we hook up. Also, the glam heavy metal thing is kind of getting old. I suggest you update your look and seriously look into a day job. You’re really getting a bit long in the tooth for all this.

Dear Tracy,

Because you didn’t take your shirt off when we…you know, but I could still see that your quite overweight. Because you made funny noises when you…you know, and just because you had somewhat of a career back in the 90s, your really not all that.

Dear  Kurt,

Because the 90s are calling and they want their dread locks back. Because you blasted rap music at top volume in the car when we were driving home (and not even cool, rock type rap). Because you live way out in the valley and think it’s cool. Because I don’t like the fact that your huge dog sleeps in the bed. And, oh yeah, because you’re a stupid idiot!!

Thanks. I feel much better now!!




image credit:


You may be in your car
Trying to be discreet
You don’t know I’m watching you
As you hide it beneath your seat

You can say you were scratching an itch
Whatever excuse you plead
I think Seinfeld said it best
“If we pick do we not bleed?”

Some say it is good for you
Others say it’s gross
What your take on it may be
Only the nose knows

You can hide it in the couch
Or in between your toes
Remember you can pick your friends
But you can’t pick your friends nose.