Welcome to my words.

This entire website is topsy turvy as of late. The only time it’s not is when it’s turvy topsy. And even then, I can’t tell my bloggy from my elbow. Until we get things calm here, please enjoy this Mozart concerto. What? We can’t get the orchestra to play? That’s it. I quit. Hey Frankie, call your cousin and tell him I’m available for that bricklaying job. What? Your brother got it? Oh come on! He said he’d hold it for me til Tuesday! No, I’m not calling your cousin a liar. I’m just saying he’s a dirty, rotten bag of jerk flesh who wouldn’t know a hard worker if one fell on his head. Yeah, tell him I said so. I don’t care. My website’s all broke. That’s fine. This’ll give me more time to work on it. No, don’t do me no favors, Frankie. I’ll be all right. You worry about yourself. Sheesh.

This Just In

This Just In

I’m not blogging this week. Why? Because I’m on a bloggy break. This one doesn’t count. There’s nothing to see here. Just a placeholder for the week of July eh, what’s today’s date? 24th? I don’t think it’s the 24th yet. Is it? It would be easy enough to find out. All I would have to do is slide out of this screen and check my trusty Google Calendar. Or ask Siri, or my daughter.

“Skye, what’s today’s date.”

“Um, school,” she said.

Very well then. This bloggy is just a placeholder for the week of July Schoolth. Hold the cheese, that doesn’t make a lick of sense since today is Wednesday. It is right? So then the week would have actually begun on Sunday. So what was Sunday’s date? Please hold…

“Skye, what was Sunday’s date?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you take a guess?”

“Umm, the beach?”

Excellent. Now we’re getting somewhere.

This bloggy serves as a placeholder for the week of July Umm, the beachst. Or maybe it’s the beachnd? I’m not so good with imaginary numbers.

Imaginary Numbers, TrUe Or False

Did you ever go to High School? I did. It was there I learned that there is such a thing as imaginary numbers. Er, there are such a thing as imaginary numbers? No. Is. I’m sticking by is. Though in my recollection of them now, I’m not at all convinced my math teacher was being straight with us.

Imaginary numbers? Come on, Mr. Troughton, if that is your real name! You don’t actually expect us to believe in non-existent integers, do you? I’m just barely in the “Pi is a never ending string of digits” camp, I can’t possibly come along on the invisible counting train.

All aboard!

-3, -2, -1, 0, 1, 2, 3

Those I can dig. And the ones in between with their decimal points and fractional infrastructures and whatnot. Fine, I’ll buy that. But where do the imaginary fellas fit in? What are they?!?

If you know math, and you feel like explaining this, please feel free to comment. I promise I’ll read it and try to understand. But I make no bones about actually prescribing to your brainy deduction, whatever it may chew out to be.

The Sinister Problem With Google

Google thinks you’re stupid. Do you know why? Because you Google everything you don’t know. That’s a lot of things. Take imaginary numbers for example, because why not? This bloggy that’s not a bloggy (but just a placeholder) has somehow become obsessed with the fantasy of Fifikey Frive.

Were I to waste anytime Googling “What’s so imaginary about Fifikey Frive?” What do you think Google would have to say about that? I’ll tell you what. I don’t know. Because I’m not going to give Google the satisfaction!! I don’t need Google knowing that I don’t know that Fifikey Frive is an imaginary number. And I most definitely don’t need Google knowing that I have no idea what an imaginary number even is! It already knows I’m a charlatan in a knowing man’s clothes.

“Look at the blogger, Mommy! That man’s not smarting any knows!”

Hey kid, nobody likes a know-it-all. Why don’t you get back behind the yellow line and keep your criticisms to the comments section.

Hey Google, What’s My Daughter’s Name?

This one’s easy. I know this one! Hold on, I wrote it down somewhere. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Well I can’t find it but I know it’s up there.

Up until now, I’ve just referred to her as “the girl” here on this bloggy because I’m a halfway decent father concerned about her privacy. But then again, how concerned could I be when her name is all over my personal Facebook account, probably sprinkled throughout Twitter, and tattooed on my heart and ironed on my patience? She’s my Skye baby. And she doesn’t understand days of the week yet, let alone dates. So cut her some slack, Jack. She’s four. I’d like to see a Broadway performance of your intellect personified as a Willy Loman character at 4 years old. Who were you, huh? Were you doing inverse quantum physics with black hole conversions and ghost algebra? Yeah. I didn’t think so. Why don’t you take a good, long look in the mirror, bub?

Get Woke

Tomorrow’s another day. There’s probably a new Bond movie coming out soon. I don’t think there’s been one in awhile. So we’ve all got that to look forward to, maybe. Would Justin Timberlake make a good 007? I mean, would JT make a bad anything?

No, no he would not. In fact, I dare say he’s quite IN SYNCH with all sevens! The double oh’s, the triple Y’s, and the Imaginary Sheventeens!

Did I spell In Synch right? I kind of have the feeling it doesn’t have an H at the end of it. Also, now I’m thinking he might have been in Fore Square.

What the heck was their big # Whun hit? Oh, I got it.


Hey hey hey!

We’ve got the beans!

She’s got more beans for her!

Hey hey hey!

Make peace with what you sow

So you can sew some mo’

Magic beans of love into her jacket!

Who who how!

You know us now

We aren’t here to sell youuuuuu

Artificial seeds

Cuz baby, you know what you need

You don’t need our unplanted seed

No no baby

No baby don’t go like that

Don’t go to market mad

Like an elephant cat

Hey hey hey!

Bring it on down to the funkadelic laundromat for a



This Just In

See you next week for Shakespeare! Byeee!

Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood

Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood

Always Writing

Always Writing