BORING STUFF, PHOTOS, AND SEX

When bloggers are desperate, they resort to writing about mundane things and posting photos that nobody really wants to see.

Today I'm going to write about mundane things and post photos that nobody really wants to see. 

The header photo is a genuine Tennessee mountain butterfly (*smile*) that was in my back yard today. I'm presenting that photo first because I knew it would impress you.

And here's another view, just in case the first view wasn't enough.

I summoned enough courage yesterday (Friday) to drive into town, accompanied by Colt.
I can now maneuver those narrow mountain curves while cruising 70 MPH and it's exhilarating enough to unclog my sinuses. 
Someday they'll find me dead at the bottom of a cliff. What a way to go.

Gorgeous weather, absolutely beautiful. It was around 62 degrees today and tonight will drop into the 40's. I love it!!!!!! I finally live in a place that feels like autumn in September.
In California, September was always 150 degrees. In Texas it was 250 (slight exaggerations).

 Back yard

Nothing exciting to see on my property, but the light is changing and whispers of autumn are in the air. The weeds are higher than my ass, but I still didn't fix my mower. Hell, I don't need a mower - - I need a tractor and a herd of 200 mountain goats.

 Front yard

As I'm writing this (late Saturday afternoon) I hear loud gunshots. Damn hunters have itchy trigger fingers. They can't wait to blast Bambi.

The only thing I like to blast are the spiders.  There were three HUGE ones on my front porch a few days ago.  The biggest one looked like a '48 Hudson. It was in a web five feet in diameter. Scared me shitless. I hope I never run into his father.

 

 Just looking at this photo will give me nightmares for a few weeks. What the hell kind of spider is that, anyway??

Another thing that scares me witless is trying to  get things organized in this small house. There are days when my mind is so boggled that I can't force myself to do anything. The only good thing is that it's cool enough to comfortably work in the garage.

I foolishly left half my furniture in Texas and now I'm realizing that I could use some of it. 

I left a beautiful dining room sideboard.

In desperation, today I made a makeshift sideboard out of an old chest of drawers. I found an antique mirror that belonged to my parents, and I also used two candle holders that were left in this house by the previous owners. It doesn't look great, but it will do. 

 I should have cleaned the mirror (I will eventually) because it's been in storage for a long time.

The biggest drawback is that my two young cats, Scruffy and Bosco, are wild. They jump up on EVERYTHING and I'm always terrified that they're going to demolish my antiques.

Here's Scruffy on the sideboard - - thirty seconds after I set it up.

And here's Bosco in my bedroom, just minutes after he knocked a vase onto the floor. Fortunately it didn't break (thanks to the carpet).

 That weird mysterious white spot is on the camera lens, not on Bosco.

I decided to put my Russian treasures on a very high shelf where the kitties can't get them. These include the lovely Russian tea cup holders that were recently given to me by blogger Myra. Respice, Prospice

Radical change of Subject:
you might not want to read this

While in the process of trying to write my memoirs, I've been checking out memoirs of a similar nature written by other people. The brashness and blatant narcissism of some writers is mind-boggling (not to mention their mediocre writing skills).

David Henry Sterry, author of Chicken, was supposedly so ravishingly handsome and sexually adept that he earned money as a Hollywood male prostitute. Women paid Big Bucks to be serviced by him - -  and his " true tell-all" book was a bestseller.

Okay, egotism is seldom in my vocabulary and I very often minimize my self-worth.
But I'm gonna step out of character for one brief moment and be shockingly blunt.

Here's the question:
If you're paying for sex, who would you fork over the cash to first - - Sterry or me?

(Sterry's on the left, in case you didn't know)

 

Be careful before you give an answer. I don't want my fragile ego to be crushed.

Yea, I'm sure he's a really nice, fun guy with an incredible cock - - but are his inflated exploits deserving of a best-selling book?

Jon, your bitchiness is showing and it's not becoming.

Hey, I might not be a bestseller but I at least deserve to be a book of the month.

I'll deeply regret posting this in the morning.


P.S.
I always wonder why my really  crappy posts (like this one) generate interest, and my good posts (like the previous two) go down like the Hindenburg........