Happy and Blue 2

I currently have 3 computers.

I have an iMac that I bought when my old computer died.

I have a pretty decent Windows desktop computer that was given to me when a friend got a new computer. They gave it to me because I like playing around with computers.

I have a laptop that I bought about 6 months ago because….I don’t know why..it was on sale.
I hardly ever use the laptop.

Anyways, this post is about how to create a post. So this is how I create one:

-I write my posts using Pages which is just a word processing program on my Mac.
Sometimes I use NeoOffice on my Mac instead.
It’s a crap shoot really. Whatever that means. Both programs work great.

-I load my posts into Wordpress using the Mac.
This part bugs me because the Mac isn’t all that fast. I like speed. Not the speed that kills. Or the drug. I just don’t like waiting for the post to load.

-As soon as the post is loaded in Wordpress I run to my Windows computer. Sometimes I just saunter over to the computer. The Windows computer is only about 6 feet away so usually I don’t need to pack a lunch or anything.

-I find a photo to go with my post on Google. Generally I don’t care if the photo has a copywrite or anything. Seriously, if it bothered the picture taker person, I’d remove it.
I’m not a thief. I’m just lazy.

-I edit my post on Wordpress. It doesn’t help but I like to think it does.

-I post the post. I don’t literally mail it anywhere. I just hit the post button in Wordpress. Not literally hit it. I move my cursor over the post button and press the mouse key like this and it does stuff.

Usually when I explain this to people they have questions so I’ll save you some time and answer them here:

Why don’t you just write your posts on the Windows computer?
-Because I don’t like Word or Open Office that much. Plus I like writing on my Mac.

If you did pack a lunch when going from the Mac to the Windows computer what’s in it?
Usually just a sandwich. And cookies of course.

Can’t you write better posts?
No. Quit asking me that..

So, today’s question is:
1) How do you write your posts?

Felicitey was a frog. A female frog. A teenage female frog.
With typical teenage female frog angst.

“I don’t want to be green all the time” said Felicitey to her mother.
“Why can’t I wear makeup like the other girls?”

But Felicitey’s Mother was busy eating a fly or something so she just shook her head and didn’t answer.

Felicitey was angry of course so she decided to wear makeup whether her Mother said she could or not.
She was also angry that her Mother had caught the fly. It looked so tasty.

And she was even more angry that her friend Frannie had been talking to the boy she liked at school.

But that anger was for another time.
She planned to write a song about it and become a famous singer and let everyone know what a mean friend Frannie was.

So, for now, she just snuck into the bullrushes and slathered on the makeup. Mostly so I could use the word slathered in a sentence I suppose.

And then she hopped across the lily pads to school without stopping to say goodbye to her Mother who was busy eating another fly.

“Ribbit” Felicitey swore out loud. “ She’s catching all the best flies!!!!”

At school all the girls were in awe of Felicitey’s makeup.
So much so that quite a few of them started writing songs and poetry they could use later in life to put her in her place.
When they became famous singers and writers of course.

But, as usually happens at Frog High, today was swimming day.

And when Felicitey was finally forced to jump in the pond all her makeup came off.
Except for her lipstick which was waterproof or something.

Anyways, she looked like someone had punched her in the mouth.
And it made all the frogs laugh at her.

So, like any young female frog would do in a situation like this, she wrote an angst filled song about the situation.

Those other frogs would pay for making fun of her later when she became famous.

So today’s question is:
1) How old should a frog be before it is allowed to wear makeup?

Billy had been reading the newspaper ever since it became a requirement for his English classes in Junior High School.
So now, as an adult, he felt a kinship with newspapers and the stories they told.

But, as with many things in life, change happens. And newspapers, like everything else, seemed to have changed as well.

The number of happy neighborhood stories dwindled and were replaced by stories of crime and violence that occurred sometimes in his own City, and sometimes in his country, and sometimes in far off lands.

The message was clear though. To Billy and to anyone who chose to read a newspaper, or watch the news on tv for that matter.

The community, the country and the world were scary places.
Places where bad things happened to good people on a regular basis.

So, being a member of the good people group, Billy became afraid.

He stopped going for walks in his neighborhood.
He stopped talking to his neighbors.
He stopped trusting anyone.
He stayed home, locked inside, hoping that the bad people wouldn’t find him.

Then one day something horrible happened to Billy.

His old papergirl, who was actually probably about 10 years old, stopped delivering his newspaper.

And, she was replaced by a paperboy who wore a black baseball cap.
Backwards on his head.

Billy knew all about stuff like this backwards baseball cap thing.
Gang members often wore baseball caps backwards.
So, obviously this kid was in a gang that took over delivering papers so they could check out who to rob and beat up next.

Billy did the only logical thing he could think of.
He promptly quit the newspaper.

Without getting the newspaper Billy stopped getting the news. And he thought that digital media was the work of the Russian Mafia so he never did buy a tv or computer.

And without realizing all the horrors that were waiting just outside his door Billy forgot that the world was a scary place.

He started going for walks again.
And he started talking to people again.
He even said hello to people wearing their baseball caps backwards.

And nothing bad happened to him. Ever.
Because life isn’t really all that scary I suppose. Except in the news.

So, for Billy at least, no news really was good news.

Unless, like Billy, not knowing what’s going on in your neighborhood results in you going for a walk just as a tornado was about to touch down.

Billy did survive by positioning himself in the eye of the storm and running with it until it played out but I wouldn’t recommend that to people who can’t run really, really, fast.

So, today’s question is:
1) Has reading or watching the news ever stopped you from doing something?

Shelley had lots of friends. She had her bestest friend Maggie and her cousins Gertie and Lucy to talk to when her bestest friend wasn’t around.

So, she wondered why it just didn’t seem like enough. Why, oh why, did she think she had to have more friends. What exactly was missing in her life that new friends would be able to give her.

And as she was thinking these things her bestest friend Maggie showed up.

“Hi Fathead. That giant zit there on your bulbous melon looks like it’s about ready to explode.” said Maggie.

Maggie always seemed to know just the right things to say to pull Shelley out of the sad mood she was in.

“Thanks for your kind observations you skanky slut” replied Shelley not knowing what the words skanky or slut really meant. She assumed that they meant cool chick or something but cool chick didn’t roll off her tongue like skanky slut did.

“If your head doesn’t implode with that zit are you planning to go to the singles dance?” continued Maggie.

“I hadn’t really thought much about it” replied Shelley all the while wishing the question had left another opening for the words skanky slut. She so wanted to use it again.

“Are you planning to go?” she continued as she bit her tongue so as not to add skanky slut to the end of her question. She didn’t want to waste the phrase on every answer I guess.

“Of course I am” said Maggie. “There will be boys there and I want to snag one.”

“Boys” thought Shelley out loud. “That’s it. Boys. I want to meet boys. I want a boyfriend.”
“Why should my skanky slut of a bestest friend always be the one who has boyfriends while I’m sitting at home waiting for her to visit” she continued to think out loud.

“I heard every word you said Shelley. You were thinking out loud again. Crippers..” said Maggie.

So they both laughed. For no real reason that I can think of.

“We’ll both go to the dance” continued Maggie. “And I’ll find a boy for you.”

So they did go to the dance. After they had popped Shelley’s giant zit. And cleaned up the ensuing mess from the walls and carpet.

And a short time later, both Maggie and Shelley married boys. And they had many adventures together as couples. Although not as many as they had when they were single skanky sluts together.

So today’s question is:
1) Have you ever gone to a singles dance?

In the beginning of time, or perhaps a few years ago, birds used to stay put through the Seasons.

Housing for birds was cheap. And the trees never lost their leaves in the Fall so the scenery was always pretty.

But then a few years ago, and by years I likely mean eons, the World changed.

Apparently the Seasons had a conference at a fancy resort in the Mediteranian or some such place so they could air their grievances concerning each other.

Spring was angry because nothing new ever got a chance to grow because the Summer never really ended.
And Fall was angry because it had all these great colors to paint leaves and such with but no one ever got to see them.
And Winter. Well don’t get me started on all the complaints that Old Man Wiinter had.

Summer was content with the way things were. As someone who hogs all the attention should be I suppose.

But, Summer was outnumbered. So changes were made at the conference that somewhat satisfied everyone.
Except Summer I suppose.

Spring was given 2 months a year to grow new stuff.
And Fall was given 2 months a year to paint leaves and such.

And Winter.
Well Winter had come prepared with the best arguments of all the Seasons, and a baseball bat that he used in a threatening manner.

Winter was given 6 months in the North, and less time in the South. And no time in California because California fell under the jurisdiction of Mother Nature at the time and was protected by special bylaws and such.

The birds that lived during the changes liked the Spring. The rains brought worms to the surface of the ground where they were easy pickings.
So the birds threw their shovels away and lived happily.

And they liked the Summer. They were used to it. Nothing really changed with Summer and birds don’t like change. A genetic defect I think.

And Fall was kind of cool. Literally.
But the birds were ok with it because they liked the smell of Fall’s paints.

And then Winter arrived. And the birds were frozen with fear. And by the cold as well.
So they decided to go South.

After all, none of them played hockey. And there weren’t any hockey skates to fit them anyways.
And none of them owned a toboggan. Or snowshoes. Or a parka or mittens for that matter.

So they flew South until they reached a place where they were warm again.
And they have continued this practice until this very day.

Of course with Global Warming this will likely change again but that is another story.

So today’s question is:
1) What is your favorite season. Or bird?

Happy wasn’t happy.

It wasn’t really his fault. Life tends to suck for all living things. And rabbits have a particularly sucky life at times, what with all the running away from things that want to eat them.

But Happy was supposed to be happy. That’s what his name said he was. Kind of like how we expect someone named Dick to be somewhat of a…well, you get the idea.

So Happy did what other rabbits did. He ate lettuce and listened for stuff that might be a danger to him, and he hopped around, and pooped a lot. Vegetables tend to do that to rabbits. And people too.

So use restraint with the vegetables if you are going somewhere where pooping is an annoyance to others.
Like if you plan to visit me.

But mostly Happy wasn’t happy. He saw a psychiatrist about it quite often but it didn’t help.

The rabbit psychiatrists tended to just sit there chewing on a carrot and didn’t ask questions.

And the human psychiatrists tended to ask a lot of questions but they don’t speak rabbit so the questions seem to fall on big furry ears.

Anyways, Happy lived a long and depressing life.

But other rabbits with different names seemed pretty happy most of the time so I guess things work out in the end.

So today’s question is:
1) Do you eat a lot of vegetables?

Sometimes I can talk and talk and talk.
Usually I talk in my sleep.
People say I’m snoring but I’m not.

Sometimes I’m really quiet and stealthy like a ninja.
Or as stealthy as a clumsy guy who is over 6ft tall can be.

Sometimes I want to write a lot.

Sometimes I just don’t..

So today’s question is:
1) What are you sometimes?