THE PROMPT: "This is abusing!" 

Good evening folks...only got about an hour and a half to bang this out, so let's do it!

I had a similar situation as Earl - back2normal . I'd say it was about 4 and a half, maybe five years ago. I'd gotten out of the hospital and wasn't ready to go to work. I'd just received my last bit of sustainable income in the form of a check, and was craving food. So I did what any responsible human being does in that situation . I went to a bar.

I really wanted their chili, and they cashed checks. Plus, if you went there during specific hours, they served beer. So I ordered a bowl of chili and a pint, and like I always did at this bar, I threw a few dollars in the jukebox. It wasn't very crowded for a Thursday afternoon.

So as I'm mawin' down my chili, this dude sits down next to me and starts kickin' up conversation. And if you know me, when I'm out anywhere by myself eatin' a meal, you only better be tryin' to talk to me if I'm on fire. But this dude was really into the music, askin' me about it and whatnot, so I obliged him. I don't even remember what was playin' at the time; it's irrelevant.

So we shot the shit for a little bit, played some darts, and I felt comfortable with this guy. Didn't seem shady or anything. And we had a good connection, because we hit it off really good. And it's funny, I don't remember his name, but I'm pretty sure it was Jesus (and not the biblical Jesus...more like "Hey, Suess" which in retrospect, was fitting). We were talkin' about bands and music and writing, and he was a writer (he pulled out his notebook to prove it), and I thought to myself "This cat's for real!" I figured what the hell, and I invited him back to my place for a few beers, better music, and to talk about writing. Jesuess was cool with that.

So we headed back to 542. He was amazed at my massive collection of cd's and notebooks. We started goin' over each other's work. We may have even collaborated on a few items. He said I reminded him of a longtime friend, Richie. So that's what he called me. Whatever. When we were at the bar, he was there waiting to catch the bus; since I was unemployed and lost my car, I couldn't take him home. I let him crash the night on my couch. No prob.

We hung out the next day for awhile. I think we got somethin' to eat, had a few beers, and he had to get home, so I let him use my phone so he could call his sister. Turned out his sister had a job that required her to go to NYC a few weekends a month...because she was a prostitute! So she came to pick him up, and I met her outside. She could smell the booze on his breath...and lit into me for getting him drunk! I was like, "Hell no! I didn't force him to drink or anything! He did it himself!" She was like, "You know you ain't supposta be doin' that, Jesuess!" I just walked away. Dude had my number if he ever got his phone turned back on and wanted to hang.

A few weeks later, as I was gettin' out of the shower, I heard a commotion at my back window. It was Jesuess, shoutin' "Richie! Richie! You home?" through the window while he was pryin' at the screen. I was like, dude, hold on, and I let him in. After a few minutes of catchin' up, he said he needed a place to stay for a little while. He'd lost his job and his family kicked him out. I knew I had to be strong, knowing I wouldn't have any money coming in until at least when my unemployment kicked in, but at the same time, I couldn't just let this dude live out on the street. It was the week of Thanksgiving and all...how could I do that? Besides, 542 was plenty big enough for two. So I told him, "You can stay here as long as you want, but you have to get a job or somethin' to help out around here". Very appreciative, that Jesuess.

I have having my own problems with my family, and they weren't being supportive of anything I was doing, so I figured I could use the company while I tried to get back on my feet. The first thing this cat did was call a friend of his to score weed. And I haven't done that in at least ten years, and had no interest in it, but ok. He fires up a J, and all the sudden the neighbors upstairs are bangin' on the door, askin' if we're smokin' pot. So I lied and said we were cooking and it didn't turn out right.

The next few days were aggrivating. He cleaned out my fridge and food cabinets, and I don't mean that in a good way. The final straw was on a Sunday. My parents called to see if I wanted any Thanksgiving leftovers, and that they were sorry about forgetting about me that Thanksgiving. So I said I'd be over in a little bit...just had to take care of a few things.

Jesuess started getting into my medicine cabinet. I was on two prescriptions at the time, and my supply was rapidly diminshing. He'd been around for almost a week, and he had done nothing but sleep and watch tv. Didn't bother to try and find a job. At least I had a plan...this cat didn't. So it was time. I had to kick him out. I said, "Look dude, it's been fun, but you're not doing a damn thing around here. I need you out. NOW! I can't live like this, you can't live like this, and you've got to go." And he was pissed and hurt and boo-hoo, whatever. But there was no way I was gonna let him drag me down by supporting him on no income. Life doesn't work that way. It was the early afternoon. I told him I was leaving at 5pm, and suggested he do the same. This way he at least had a shower and whatever food was left in the house to use up for a meal. And that was that.

Five o'clock came and I was ready. He grabbed what little he had and we left. And when the time came, he went one way, and I went another. I don't think we even shook hands or anything. I think I just peaced him out and went on my way, while he went toward the bus stop. He tried calling me once or twice after that, but I never answered. I couldn't do it anymore. I'd had enough of being taken advantage of. My niceness can only take so much and go so far...after that, I have to do what I need to do in order to survive.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

"The easiest and the hardest word to say, only got two letters, only takes a second to say it."

THE PROMPT: "Monday Muse" 

Good evening everybody! What's happenin'? Tonight we're led by skilled bloggist Prosperous Snow , who's taken time from her two other offsite blogs to share with us her Monday Muse. Three blogs? Wow...I barely have enough nourishment to satisfy one blog on a daily basis, and Snow's got three? Let me know how ya grew all those extra hands to type them all with!

So my Monday Muse...takes away my ability to choose...allows no clues...knows how to confuse...draws into my spirit to dampen my fuse...oh, my Monday Muse.

Well, if I had one, I imagine that's how it would be. I typically don't do much on Mondays; today being the exception in that I worked. So I had a reason to accomplish something. But this concept of a muse, as romantic as it seems, doesn't exist for me. I just kinda go with the flow, and whatever comes out is what comes out. Sure, sometimes I have motivation, but that's purely a personal thing, I assume. There is no diety hovering over me, waiting to tap me on the shoulder with a pen saying, "It's time." Quite the contrary, actually. Once I saw the prompt my mind went blank. I'm talking bleached canvas blank. I won't say I panicked, but I was uneasy. So I did what I do best in these situations...I procrastinated. Perhaps that was my muse's way of staying in control...by staying in the background and away from the scenes, drawing me back until it feels like I've wasted enough time and am closer to the deadline, so I feel like I've got a little pressure and can respond in some kind of moving way. The kind of way where I think I've just written the most random things, but everybody comes away feeling something special that I, as the writer of it, didn't even notice.

If that's the case, and that's my muse, I'm naming him Holden.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

Since we're on the subject, I'll take the easy way out and put this on tonight.

THE PROMPT: "Emily - What is your "Go-To" Book?" 

Good afternoon, and happy Sunday to everyone out there! I have to admit, I gushed a little inside when I saw this entry last night from Emily~Cowboys+Pirates=1791808 . It's nice because it's a little more universally relatable, and I think out of everyone still involved in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge" , (I'm not keeping track so the number might be off) so if there's 10 of us, you'll probably see 10 different responses. Which can make things even more interesting.

I have to admit, from my teen years through most of my adult life, had this question been posed to me I may have laughed. I didn't read much of anything outside of the newspaper and things of that nature. Maybe a few music or sports magazines. That was it.

But it's funny how being unemployed can change things. A few years ago, I had just started a part-time (with full-time potential) position at a (now defunct) pharmacy chain, so I decided I'd need a second job to catch up on expenses. Walking through the mall, I noticed Waldenbooks was hiring. I figured, what the hell? How hard could it be? Dropped off my application and hoped for the call.

And they called. Turned out what they were really looking for were seasonal employees to get them through Christmas and to staff their calendar stand. The manager who interviewed me was pretty cool. He asked me my reading interests, and I was embarrassed to answer that most of what I've read in the last 10 years had been the lyrics inside of all the cds I'd purchased while listening to the music. I cited The Tragically Hip as an example of how their music is like poetry to me, and how I could enjoy Gord Downie's lyrics with or without the music for the way it resonated to me. I must've impressed him enough to get the job...at the calendar stand.

Occasionally I'd work in the store, mainly stocking the shelves and putting out magazines. It was barely enough to learn how to sell books. The most irritating thing? People coming in, saying, "I'm looking for this book; it's by some guy I don't remember. And the cover is red." And you had to figure out what it was. That, my friends, is no easy task. I was let go after the holidays.

But sure enough, around springtime, I saw that they were hiring again. I walked in, talked to the manager, and he agreed to take me on, in the store. And I learned. I studied the shelves as I stocked them. I listened to customers. I read the Literary section of the newspaper more focused now than ever. And when that irritating customer who knew what they wanted but didn't know what it was came in, I was able to get enough information out of them to know what they wanted. It was a very gratifying feeling. I remember being at the top of their three main sales categories a few times. It was great!

I also took full advantage of my employee discount. I stocked up on some classics, and some things I'd never had the chance to read before. And even though I was working two jobs, I found myself with a little time to read. I was taking the bus to the mall and back, so it was perfect. It was times like that where I discovered one of my very favorite reads...something a lot of others had to read for high school, but I wasn't one of them. I was probably 28 at the time, and it was The Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger. Even though it was set in a different time, and the main character was significantly younger than I was, I felt a strong connection to Holden Caulfield. His spirit, his mannerisms, his sense of adventure while on a course of finding himself...they all felt very relatable. That alone is enough to make it a must-read.

But what really hooked me wasn't so much the plot, but Salinger's writing style. He really was relating a story, and his used of italics in mid-sentence for emphasis really colored things in a way that made it seem like there was true emotion behind the printed words. No author I had read before had ever done that, or used it to the effect that Salinger had.

Sadly, I had been promoted at my other job. I went down to two days a week at Waldenbooks, and after another promotion, had to leave Waldenbooks entirely. Maybe a year later, if not less, the store closed entirely. But my bookseller voyage didn't end there. A few years later, I was again out of work. Walking through a different mall, I noticed the old Waldenbooks there had been converted to a Borders Express location (Borders and Waldenbooks shared the same parent company). They too were hiring, not only for the holidays, but they were looking for keyholders as well. I introduced myself to the manager, told him about my experience with Waldenbooks, recognized a few of the employees who I'd spoken on the phone with a few years back, and they hired me.

It was an amazing experience! I got to re-connect again with reading, taking advantage of my discount and the book-borrowing program. My collection of books is pretty massive and diverse. But Borders itself was having major financial problems, and after about a year and a half there, they closed my location and several other mall locations. And eventually, there no longer was a Borders anywhere. And while there may no longer be Borders, I still have the friends, the memories, the conversations, and the books. And that's as good as any paycheck to me.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

Our location sold a few cd's too. One holiday season, this band released an accompanyment to their major release a few months before, probably to cash in on their success during the holidays. I picked it up and was blown away by this collaboration...the song is amazing alone, but so much better here.

THE PROMPT: "You all can relate a story about how your plans have changed and how you were put in a bind. Maybe you got out of it, and maybe you didn't. Follow that!"

Good evening friends...sorry about the whole "Follow Me" fail last night. But luckily, I was "bailed out" in a way, if I suppose you can even call it that. And that's what led me to at least being able to give some sort of direction for today.

Last night, Jess was still out at her girlie party. It was around 11, maybe 11:30-ish. Her son had recently come home from his galavanting and was entertaining a friend on the other side of the basement, which I had just redescended upon, in hopes of winding down for the night.

The backstory: The plan was to get up around 7:30 and have Jess take me to work, and maybe have her other son pick me up, or else I'd need a ride home. No shortage of good people that I respect that would do that for me today.

Now, let's back up, and see what really happened. The boy approaches me in the basement, and asks if I'll be needing to use the bathroom to shower in the morning, and what time (mindless of the fact that he was home earlier when I took my shower). I tell him that I've already showered, but I have to be to work at 8am and will need to at least get ready. He says, "Oh...well I have to be in Hamburg at 7:30 in the morning for training." Hamburg is at least 20 minutes, if not more, in the opposite-opposite-opposite direction of where I'm supposed to be at 8am. "So mom's gonna take me."

Jaw? Meet floor. Really? It's after 11pm, and nobody's told me this? But I'm not surprised, because it's been a week of surprises. One kid's got an internship that I didn't know about, and this one's doing lifeguard training (which explains the random towel and swim trunks hanging over the shower the last few days). I mean, I know my memory's basically been going to shit lately, but come on! I know I prefer the solace of the basement with my beats at a reasonable volume, but damn, I need to know these things too!

So now I'm thinking I have to wake up at least another 45 minutes to an hour earlier than I expected. As soon as I sit down at my desk, sure enough, I got at text from Jess. This conversation is not brought to you by OnStar.

Jess (11:36pm): On my way. Still have to get gas.
Me (11:44pm): Thank you for telling me about the change of tomorrow morning's plans.
Jess (11:51pm): Didn't get that far yet. I wanted to talk to you in person and am trying to get Josh to take him.
Me (11:54pm): Personal opinion: that won't happen. But cool, we've been up at the butt-ass crack of dawn the last 2 days. Why would I even get excited over thinking that 730 would be "sleeping in"?
Jess: <no response>

So this is what happened. She took her other son's car in the morning to take the kid to Hamburg, so I could take the car to work. But since she had to be to work at 2:30pm, I had to use my lunch break to shoot home, pick her up, and have her drop me back off at work. Luckily, I was able to at least get a bagel from Tim Horton's on my morning break (may I recommend the everything bagel with extra garden vegetable cream cheese...delish yo ). Bless the people I work with for being so awesome about our situation.

Due to last night's circumstances, I did receive another change in plans when I got home from work. One kid had already gone to work for the night...I was expecting him to still be home and getting ready. The other, I expected, was gonna be at home since he didn't want to go to his dad's. I came home...to an empty house . No fighting, no bickering, no weird shows on tv, no random useless info (which I don't mind) while I'm writing (which I really do mind), no mouths to figure out how to feed but my own, and so far, about three hours of silence. That, my friends, is what I refer to as a "win".

So you'll forgive me for not staying up late and cranking out a midnight entry to be followed. But it did occur to me this afternoon at work..."Did I recycle a prompt from a previous "30-Day Blogging Challenge" ? I think I inadvertantly might have. Oh well, you'll have that. At least you got somethin' from someone not named Earl - back2normal , who's had too much going on lately that he's needed to tend to rather than the cats that haven't been pickin' up the slack. Good on those who have, and I'm sorry for those who haven't...and peace to Earl for all he's been through lately.

And that's the double twist-o-change-o of plans that my day has seen thus far.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

I'm just gonna shuffle the iPod a little and see what's good. Hold on...ok, I got this now.

THE PROMPT: "That Special Movie. Now, what could be so special about a movie that you watch it over and over again until the tape breaks, or the disk becomes so scratched up you can't play it on your computer any more? Was it worth spending 15 or more years trying to find it, even though you saw it once, just to see it again? Did the movie inspire you to take up writing? Was it the movie that you and your father used to watch together, and was perhaps the last one you saw with him before he passed away? Was it that movie that you and your partner saw when you first started dating- but you spent so much time staring into their eyes, and perhaps kissing (or even more) that you didn't actually watch it? Tell me why.

Well well, what do we have here? Good evening fine people...it's a prompt from BBWOLF Turning 23 6/3 . It's full of fun, even saucy, questions. Most of which I don't really have an answer to; others you fine people deserve to be shielded from sweaty, sticky details.

Some of you who've been around here with me awhile might remember why I don't have the answers to these questions. I rarely watch movies at all anymore. Simply put: I don't have the attention span for them. Literally, figuratively, physically, any way you wish to slice it, I just can't do it. Out of maybe the last seven movies I've tried to watch, I've fallen asleep around twenty minutes into six of them. I just can't seem to do it.

What's weirder is that I often have some trouble falling asleep, but I never think to put in a movie. It's always SportsCenter that's tucking me in, and the light volume is usually enough to get me under.

What's even weirder? Between Jess the CWC and I, we own about half of the movies out there that were committed to digital video disc. Ok, well, not quite, but we own a lot of titles. Most are hers; most of mine are music videos and kung-fu flicks. She's the movie collector. I'm the music collector hoarder. Her video collection looked like my music collection, and vice/versa.

I think the problem with me and movies is something of the psychological nature. Yes, I can sit and watch a band play on a stage for two hours. Yes, I can watch their entire videography. But the latest bromance flick that looks hilarious? Out in twenty with a case of the z's, for real. But back to my point...I can't devote two hours of my life sitting on the couch, doing absolutely nothing while staring at a rectangular object showing images of things that move and talk and stuff. I need to be engaged. I need to be a part of it. And movies rarely engage that part of my brain. I can't seem to allow myself to get sucked in to the story enough to really feel like watching it is something I should be doing.

And that's the other problem: I tend too much to see through the bullshit. Fakeness doesn't appeal to me. Things that will likely never happen to me don't appeal to me. I don't allow myself to even try to "get the joke". Fantasyland exists for me, just not in cinematic ways.

All that said, I have one movie story that's stayed with me throughout my life (ok, I've got a few, but this one's my favorite). The summer between my junior and senior years of high school, I was addicted to the movie Major League, starring Charlie Sheen as a pitcher for the lowly Cleveland Indians, playing with a rag-tag bunch because the owner wanted to lose so much so she could move the team to Florida. This was the pre-tiger blood, "Winning!", batshit crazy Charlie Sheen...where he was merely doin' blow and hangin' out with cheap hookers. But anyway, I loved that movie. I might've watched it four times a week that summer, in between whatever else I had goin' on. When I was home, that movie was in the VCR. The lines in that movie, the way they were delivered, and the rags-to-riches storyline all hooked me. I still probably tear up a little at the ending...until I laugh at how awesome it is.

I know, I know, cool story bro . I hear crickets and tumbleweeds rolling through the URL's. Time to move on...

MUSICAL BREAK!!

Charlie Sheen's character was known for his innaccuracy, and was given a nickname. As he started getting better, he'd come out to pitch to a variation of this song.

THE PROMPT: "May 10 - Oh, how time flies." 

Good evening everyone...what up?? Color me Connieann has a nice little entry today about how time flies, and how we tend to have to put the things we enjoy the most aside for things that we really need to take care of. And she ends her entry beautifully, like it should be on a motivational poster or something, with a picture of a mountain and a lion cub.

And we've all played the victim been in the situation where "time flies when you're havin' fun", but today I've stumbled across something a little more profound than the overused cliche. I have discovered just how time walks.

We're a 3-driver (+1 in training) household, with two cars to go around. Now, I don't need to have a doctorate in Calculus to tell you that if you don't plan things accordingly, transporting everyone around properly can get a little tricky at times. Sometimes lateness occurs. And occasionally, some get left behind.

Yesterday I told you all about my workday ("This one's about today."  for those who need a refresher but are too lazy to scroll down). Well, today was pretty much the same thing, only I was one of the lucky ones who had to be in at 5:45 this morning to physically unload, and then put away, our delivery. I must mention that I was not alone in this early morning tomfoolery (nods at Julie D ). And it's a damn good thing I bothered to look at my schedule the day before, or I would've assumed I was just coming in at 8am.

Needless to say, this jumbled up the ride situation a little bit. Jess the CWC was working 8am-4:30pm in an area we call "The Southtowns", or, like anyplace else around here, 20 minutes away. If I was 8am-4pm, I'd just let her drop me off and wait a little bit for her to pick me up (since her son has the other car for school/internship). But due to the incompetent nature of my schedule-keeping, coupled with the boy's internship hours, she would have to drop me off earlier and I'd have to fend for myself for a ride home (or wait three hours after my shift for her to come get me...not happenin', y'all).

But there was no one available to go out in my direction. Luckily, it was a sunny day. It was warm enough to rock a hoodie and be comfortable. I decided, "Fuck this, I'mma walk home!" So I did.

Let me do a little of the geography for ya. I work on the border of a town (Cheektowaga) and a village (Depew). I live on the border of Depew and Lancaster, just past the line in Lancaster. According to Mapquest and the route I took, it's a nine minute drive (give or take, depending on traffic and time of day) and approximately 3.88 miles. It wasn't a bad walk, actually. Only had to cross three busy intersections. The bulk of the journey was spent on the main road I work on, and after cutting over, I spent the rest on the road I live on. Easy enough. Approximate time of walking travel? One hour, twenty minutes.

Hmmm...nine, or 80? I prefer nine, even if I did have the wind at my back. But it was nice. Kinda head-clearing in a way. Even if it practically negated me punching out at 2pm instead of my normal 4pm. Even though I had just worked eight hours, and spent the early part of the day lifting numerous things (large and small), including about 50 24-packs of bottled water. Even if we were down another person again today, and I was on my feet for damn near all of my shift. Even though I had to poop pretty fantastically about halfway through my journey (oh my gawd...it's May 10th...10 days into this challenge and no poop references? I must be maturing! ). Truth is, it was some exercise. Would I've preferred it on a day at work where the physicality isn't as demanding? Yes. But what the hell. I did it, and it wasn't so bad.

I guess the moral to this story is: know your schedule or walk home, sucka.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

The only thing that really sucked about that walk? Around the same time Jess made it to work, I realized I should've either grabbed my iPod, or at the very least the headphones I have for my Blackberry. A long walk without music is just that...a long walk.

THE PROMPT: "I would guess that Earl is travelling and or spending time with family. I won't have time to write anything until later tonight. If I may step up and offer a prompt in Earl's absence, I would suggest we write something about how we are enjoying the follow me concept in blogging. Include any topic that is close to you today as well. Hopefully Earl will return shortly." (quote attributed to Brother Nature )

Way to stay on the ball, Joel! Good evening friends. Well, it's almost like it's the "quartely review" (Or would "first third" sound more appropriate? Discuss it in the comments section.) for this month's special "Follow Me" edition of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge" , only we're reviewing the actual challenge portion today. Or, well, at least I am...haven't read any of the other participants yet.

I know this might come off as offensive to some, or backhanded in a way, or me just being an ass, and I'm ok with any one or a combination of the three, but I much rather enjoy getting a prompt and writing as opposed to reading an entry first and then coming up with my own. But hear me out...the reason I say this is simple. Some of the opening entries nail the topic right on the head. They've said what I would've probably said had their subject been a normal prompt. And that's great that there are so many talented people in this round, but some days, I really hafta pull verbal teeth to say something that stands out from everything else (if in fact that's even happened so far this month). Some days, I'm just too exhausted and don't have the mental capacity to be so creative. And that's not me seeking pity; that's the truth.

So while I'm still having fun, I'm really actually longing for the "Challenge War Chest"...and you know the deal between me and those prompts. Talk about a love/hate relationship...kinda feels like I dumped my trainwreck/supermodel girlfriend for a younger, sexier blog challenge, and now I'm thinking I'd take a trainwreck over the younger, sexier challenge because that trainwreck is also a supermodel. Yup, you don't give me an entry to follow today, and that's the analogy you get.

I'mma tell you what...lemme take a little break. After the day I had, this will all be null and void and no one will remember this part of the entry happened, and we'll share a laugh and skip and hold virtual hands while staring at computer screens. Deal?

MUSICAL BREAK!!

This should set the mood appropriately, given how the week has gone so far.

THE PROMPT: "My Righting is Getting Bedder." 

Good evening everyone! Well, I'm not gonna be that guy to ruin the "shaking off of the somber tone" Brother Nature was referring to in his entry, suggesting you tell everyone about the first thing you've written, which, ironically, was titled Death and spoke of it through death's perspective. I think I was in 7th grade at the time, it was an assignment for English class, and it was the first time a teacher had ever praised me in that way. I may even have saved it, but I'm not looking for it at this ungodly hour.

That's not to say I didn't write when I was younger....even as far back as elementary school I was still authoring. I'd take a little notepad, draw tiny little pictures of trucks or dogs, and write a few words about them. Then I'd assemble them to look like a little book. Damn, looks like I was into publishing too!

But that's not the only thing I did. Around the same age, my dad gave us a ton of old football cards. I wanna say they were Topps cards from 1978. And what little kid knows better and treats these things with respect? Who were we to know someday they might have value? Certainly not us...they were mere toys to us! I'd pick random cards and make teams out of different players, and then line them up in position on the floor and pretend they were really playing a game. I'd move them around and immitate legendary play-by-play man John Madden, calling the action. Killed a lot of time this way.

But what always fascinated me more were the stats on the back, and these cards would have a fun little story on the back about the player...be it a crazy statline from a game, or a record, or something interesting personally referring to the player. I always read those with interest, as well as going to the library to read books about the NFL teams, their histories, and their greatest players.

This all inspired me. I'd sit at the dining room table with my crayons, I'd grab a looseleaf piece of paper, and I'd make my own giant-sized football cards of myself. Of course, I was almost always the QB for the Buffalo Bills, and I almost always wore #12...after my hero, Joe Ferguson (because QB was the most impotant position on the team, and this was before Hall Of Famer Jim Kelly signed with Buffalo in the mid-eighties). I'd draw an awesome picture of me in action, and on the back I'd list my stats for all the years I "played". I'd start my career off slow, maybe get traded or released and picked up elsewhere, but in the end, I'd wind up having All-Pro seasons as the Bills' QB. I did that a lot when I was younger. I loved adding up the stats and being the hero. Cuz that's what kids dream about.

To this day, I don't know what happened to my children's books or my oversized football cards. Sometimes I even made hockey cards where I was a Buffalo Sabre, or a baseball card where I was a New York Met. I'm sure they're somewhere, but not in my position. But I'm pretty positive that I still have that story I wrote in 7th grade about death. It's probably on the bookshelf right behind me. But I'm not interested in that, or all the essays I saved that I aced that were on books I'd never read. Well, I never read them 'til a lot later in life, that much I know.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

"Call it education, all those books I didn't read. They just sit there on the shelf lookin' much smarter than me."

Perfect song for a break, I'll say.

THE PROMPT: "When I'm on top of the world" 

Good afternoon, fine purveyors of all things righteous and good on the internet we share. blainecindy - I love my WDC! has provided us with yet another prompt that I can barely speak to, because the gist has been met in the opening salvos. Yet here I lay, armed to provide something of use to the masses. Let's see how this works out.

When I'm on top of the world, I don't just have swagger. I am swagger. Swagger becomes my name in verb form.

And when I'm on top of the world, the money's in the right spots, and having more isn't an issue.

Bellies are full and throats are quenched when I'm on top of the world.

And if there's ever a day when I can claim to all three of the above being in place, then I'm on top of the damn world!

MUSICAL BREAK!!

I don't often know what it's like to be on top of the world, but this might feel like it, I suppose...

THE PROMPT: "Snow ~ Another Long Day" 

Good evening everyone. Such a great prompt from Prosperous Snow , and yet I find myself with almost no way to go with it out of many.

Maybe it's because I had all damn day to mull it over, and there's enough going on that one thought cancels out the other. I'm not sure.

Like I said in my comments to Snow, I save all my change. I have a large plastic bucket. It once held $5 worth of cheese balls. Now, the bottom rim of it alone can hold around $40 of change. That's around the point where I decide to cash it in at the Coinstar machine, paying 8.9 cents/dollar to convert my change into a cash voucher. It's a small price to pay for money I otherwise wouldn't think anything about. I imagine if I'd just wait until the bucket was full, I'd probably have a few hundred in there, easily. Dollars, that is.

Today was a good day, otherwise. Did a few chores around the house, took a solid nap and ate some tasty snacks as my dinner. Picked up breakfast sandwiches from the local diner this morning for breakfast as well. Sometimes you need to spend a day off doing damn near nothing just to feel a little sense of accomplishment.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

Finally got my tickets to see this band! It's only been about 10 years or so. Well, this is an acoustic, non-full band version, but still, it's cool.