Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything … 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs … damned humans.
Since it is all Halloweeny time now and such and a time where the Monster Family of Cereals (Frankenberry, Count Chocula, Boo Berry, Frute or Fruit Brute, Yummy Mummy) come out to play again on the shelves of Targets or Walmarts or Payless Shoes (buy one clunky pair of thick heeled boo (t) s and neck bolts and get a box of Frankenberry) or any similar store that might claim in these boxes whole grain but also a laundry list of other ingredients you can’t pronounce that will probably give you pause years from now according to science and may explain things but a good source of calcium and 12 vitamins and minerals now just available in sugared front, I thought I’d re-post this one from June when I learned that there was a new addition to the family, Carmella Creeper.
Hey, shut up, it’s what I do.
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A good friend of mine recently posted to me at Facebook of the arrival of a new member of the family of Monster Cereals, Carmella Creeper. (thanks Patty, I didn’t get the cereal text alert for some reason … thought for sure I was on the list).
Fixing up her room here in the haunted house here as we speak.
For those that may not know my name is actually Frankenberry. It’s not a radio handle I invented somehow as some have thought on occasion over the years, that I may have decided, maybe drunkenly they thought, that a pink strawberry flavored Frankenstein looking monster cereal character would be the perfect name to attach to a radio persona or to a Blog from an Attic.
No, Stephen J Frankenberry to be exact as my English mother would surely and adamantly have you note. And Stephen with a proper “PH” she would also add. Not some Americanized “V” as she always viewed it. Not that she thought less of anyone with that “V” mind you, though maybe silently thinking such of the parents, “It’s not their kids fault” she surely thought.
“I’m sure they are all very fine Stephens but just with a “V”? … sigh”.
The cereal came out when I was 7, in 1971 (yes, I’m old) and inspired many the jokes then and ribbings on long school bus rides and also prank phone calls on the weekends that would drive my mother mad, in a “mad” monstery kind of way huh? HeHeHe.
“Hello, is Count Chocula there? (click)
“Hello, is Boo Berry there?” (click)
A few years later
“Hello, is Fruit Brute there? (click)
She, in her very English just off the plane only 8 years earlier, had no idea what prank phone calls were.
“Joseph Frankenberry!! You and this bloody name!!” followed with a “Hell’s Bells” and many other very English expletives that she would eventually get a bit more explicit with but with an English accent which just made them sound really cool so you forgave.
Whatever and well, I have always been inextricably connected to a pink strawberry flavored Frankenstein monster cereal character and am quite fond of it, even have a tattoo on my forearm to proclaim Monster Family solidarity.
So, to find out that I have a cousin?
Well now, that was pretty exciting.
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Nice to make your acquaintance Carmella, and welcome to the family.
So, a couple of things. I tend to walk around the haunted house here in only tighty-whities, neck bolts and my big ass scarred head head accessories clutching a one eyed teddy bear, the Count can be a little arrogant and is something of a night bat with his late night TV viewing of horror and Hallmark flicks (he finds it very amusing that somehow the two aren’t really all that distinguishable from one another), Boo is a sweetheart though a little flighty, and Fruit Brute is a bit unpredictable and will most certainly leer at you. Just remind him that we are family and that this isn’t the South … oh, and that you will kick his ass (he’s all talk). Yummy Mummy visits from Egypt on the holidays and has his own room with a sarcophagus in the basement.
Oh, I’m also historically, according to the TV commercials, a bit of a scaredy cat, so if you can keep the “Creeper” part of “Carmella Creeper” to a minimum I would appreciate it. Your room is all the way up at the top of the stairs in the attic loft bedroom with a great crow’s eye view of the graveyard in the front lawn. It’s a pain in the ass to mow and weed whack around all the headstones but is still quite eye catching (though the HOA are NOT fans and don’t find the same aesthetic in it that we do).
But again, welcome to the Monster Cereal Fam Carmella!! Lookin’ forward to October!!
Brute, seriously? What did I tell you about her being family?! Really Carmella, feel to kick his ass!!!
I got a bit melancholy tonight as I thought of younger days in my made excuse to hit the pharmacy on my way home for a third time in three days claiming old and having forgotten something the first two times around. The melancholy? The pretty Walgreens pharmacy girl. An unintentional intentional forgetting I guess.
I had been there twice in two days, for legitimate reason, the first to the refill of the relatively recent prescription I have of the smallest of pills that are now old man necessary in the largest of ways to keep the blood pressure on keel and then the second, the next day (after I had forgotten to get it all done in one) to a refill of the other pills that I am life tied to now after having discovered an adrenal deficiency that landed me in some hospital shuffling nine days sock footed sliding slippers shift slide dance with nurses and visiting doctors and pudding seven years ago.
But the melancholy came from this third day where I told myself I had to, with ulterior motive, go back and grab some Pepto that I had forgotten to pick up on either day to try and hold off the eventual nights where my heartburn or something of the sort keeps sleep at bay and has become quite a bother. I also thought to maybe pick up anything else for appearances sake in case my obviousness of a single item was noticed, paper towels would work I said to myself, yeah, maybe even some TP and Tums and …
I stepped up to the pharmacy counter, sorta fake purchase in hand, hoping to finally have a sec after the first two trips netted only her coworker and his remarkable beard and perfect quaff of hair above it.
She (a day three reason) immediately recognized and checked the alphabet drawer boxes under “F” for a bag around all the others in an overstuffed pharmacy library (so many people, so many ailments) without me asking.
She gave me a “???” look.
“Ok, sorry, nothing to check for me there right now, I’m all medicined reminded old dude good” I said “I just thought I could pretend that I am checking on prescriptions so I could ring my things up here instead of that line up front that is about a dozen people long, including at least two older women maybe getting ready to pay with a check.”
“Sure, only for you” she said with a laugh and a fetching smile.
I suddenly found myself being young again and talking to a pretty girl and remembering when I would have done such or do such now, usually pretty awkwardly after a maybe initial burst of confidence.
I let her know that her new dark color wave of whispy long flowing shoulder falling hair was a great look and sans glasses too, working even better simply for the change of it, which it did, does.
“You noticed?”
Any guy who has missed this is an idiot.
“Well yeah, of course” I said “been meaning to point it out (been dying to) but I just haven’t had chance to be at the counter with you to tell you so”
She smiled a million dollars.
Now, I have long ago given up such things, appealing to pretty girls like I were young again knowing that I have really nothing to offer now, I am broken, old, have suitcases of shit, history under my eyes, have very particular single habits, I have vices, I have broken myself almost intentionally after too many reasons to break, my breath is hard fought these days, I am out of shape, I am a single dude with two cats (formerly so many missed more) and whatever sad cliché that might imply my care of such worries put to the wayside for times to write of things just like this, but she smiled those million dollars and for just that one moment I was not my aged age any longer and I was reminded that she would have been just who I would have awkwardly tried to grab the attention of back when. The pretty girl who would have caught my eye and maybe a me hers if I were so lucky.
And that was it, though I will have to refill my stay alives in another month or maybe even go through paper towels and TP waaaay faster than any single guy should.
As I made my way onto Route 9 the other morning heading into work I hit my right turn signal to change lanes to the inside one. 6 miles later, readying to make a right OFF of Route 9 I looked down and said to myself “Wow, my turn signal’s already on, how convenient is that?”
Yep, another check in the “old man” column of the Steve ledger.
Driving for 6 miles with your turn signal on – check!
The only thing I was missing was a Tom Landry looking fedora and Midwest plates.
Now I realize this isn’t as bad as, say, being on an interstate with a blinker on for dozens and dozens of miles or more while your wife reminds you that the next rest stop isn’t going to be for another 47 miles if you don’t stop at this one and then repeats such for all the rest stops still to come just with different distances to the next but still, it starts somewhere.
And it seems that this side of the ledger is filling with checks a little faster than the other, the “almost 60 is the new whatever lesser age ain’t almost 60” column.
I noted, not too long ago, in a post here that for some reason I have these two bits that keep popping up having been recently viewed. A one from back in October of 2019, “A Nonexistent Trickle and Snake Oil For Sale in Aisle Six” a little non descript though cool thing that has just short of 30 views, but views that are stretched over 4 years now and “Angel of Death: End Of Days, Route 9, Poughkeepsie???” a better post that is one of my most viewed from April of last year about seeing the Angel of Death in the middle route 9 Poughkeepsie (some dude dressed as the Grim Reaper holding an hourglass).
No idea how these two particular posts have come to be a sort of “go to” but hell, I ain’t complainin’ on things being noticed.
Anyway I did me a read of the ‘Angel of Death” post a few months later.
So now a So Then Sunday.
(and a guy dressed as the Grim Reaper holding an hourglass in the middle of route 9 led to this …)
So I saw the Angel of Death tonight … on Route 9 in Poughkeepsie standing on the median between the North and South triple lanes, at a traffic light, near a T.G.I. Friday’s and a Mattress Firm and across from a new specialty soap shop, a new Sleep Number Bed place and a convenience store among a number of other spots.
Tall guy dressed as you might expect of an Angel of Death/Grim Reaper type. Long black robe, oversized hood and he was pointing at things, menacingly, possibly specialty soaps and he seemed like he might even have been yelling though I couldn’t really hear as I passed him amid that damned rock n roll I was playing too loudly on a nice sunny almost Spring evening, finally, one you surely wouldn’t expect the end of days to arrive on, at least you’d hope not, though I’m afraid my Mom might feel vindicated now all these years later of her worries of, when I was younger, while I was playing that damned rock and roll too loudly back then as well and cutting up perfectly good heavy metal band concert T-shirts to have her sew them on the back of denim jackets, that some might think the end of days would sneak up on me because I wouldn’t hear it/them coming.
The only thing out of the ordinary for this particular Angel of Death though was that he was carrying an hourglass. Not that Angels of Death don’t sometimes carry hourglasses, they do, I’ve seen artist renderings, some pretty cool artist renderings as a matter of fact, but this was in lieu of the tall, sharp, pointy, violent looking scythe’s we’ve more come to expect in a clichéd Angel of Death kinda way which, truth be told, is probably for the best in this day and age that that wasn’t what he was carrying.
Tall, sharp, pointy violent looking clichéd scythe’s? Yeah, that’ll getcha noticed, and not in a good way, and possibly even get ya tased or worse. Hourglass? Much less threatening.
I did though think, if I could have, that I would have politely pointed out that this hourglass of his was a little small, not really of a size befitting his stature or one to really get him noticed in the middle of a busy roadway here in Poughkeepsie, and right at the height of an evening rush hour with people being lost in thoughts of get homes and dinners and dog walkings and sweatpants and checkings in on that show that you’re pretty sure your better half cheated on and watched the next episode of without you, again, and conversations/angers left open ended the night before.
I would have pointed out that he needed something a bit more dramatic, more theatrical, something oversized to really catch that thought lost eye. The hourglass he had was, well, a little on the Spinal Tappy Stonehenge side but with him being the Angel of Death an all, I would have been as deferential and as delicate as I could with this observation (plus, he most probably still had that clichéd scythe somewhere in reserve – and that shit looks like it would hurt … a lot, like in a death kind of way).
Now was there any reason, I thought, any significance to this specific spot of his as I drove past? I don’t know. Was this where the thunders and the lightnings, the great fires or floods, or great fires followed by floods to drown out great fires making people tread water in floaties the only thing they had on hand, damn the children, the pestilences and rivers of blood were newly ordained to happen, or was he just waiting on a pick up order from that T.G.I. Friday’s and doing what Angels of Death do to pass the time, what little time may be left?
Had he been maybe having some trouble sleeping recently (certainly possible as carrying the weight of his message has gotta be a heavy sleepless nights kinda burden) thus reason to be in between a Mattress Firm and a Sleep Number Bed store or was he really pointing menacingly at specialty soaps, a could be 21st century haven of witchcraft with all the witch-like curatives some of the soaps and maybe oils and creams inside can surely promise … plus Hell, you know there’s gotta be a crystal or two hanging in there somewhere right? Or maybe he was just waiting to cross the highway way to get to the convenience store for a pack of smokes thinking to his Death self, well, if I’m bringing word of the end of the world to the peoples, I might as well smoke up while I can.
I don’t know. Whatever the reason was for that location or whatever the reason wasn’t, all I really thought on my way home after passing this Angel of Death fella with his too small hourglass (you just need a big black sports hearse car to compensate my not friend) was “listen, if this is it tonight big guy, if this is the end of days, after you’ve possibly picked up your order at T.G.I. Friday’s could you …
“Hi, can I help you sir?”
“I’m here for a pick-up”
“Your name?”
“Angel”
“Angel? Hold on … hmmm, hmmm, hold on a sec, I’m sorry I’m not seeing that here for our pick-up orders right now”
“You sure … nothing under the name Angel? With an A?”
“I can spell Angel sir, thank you, and sorry, but no … could you have ordered under a different name?”
“Oh wait, you know what, I may have. Do you have one under the name Death?”
“Death … Death … Death … sorry busy night … hold on … oh, here we go … Death … burger, blood rare, locusts, frogs, extra cheese, fries and the apple cobbler dessert special?”
“Yep, that’s me. Sorry, I don’t usually use my last name, way too formal and can be a little off-putting”
“No worries Sir. Let me get that for you, Oh, and by the way? Cool hood”
“Oh, well thank you so very much”
“I would say though, if you don’t mind a little constructive criticism, that you get a slightly larger hourglass”
… and could you, after you’ve put a deposit down on a new bed …
“You’ll be so happy you chose our little slice of sleep heaven … (stop short silent stare) … sorry, my bad … probably not the best of selling points for you I’m thinking now … you’ll be so happy you chose our bed Mr. Death instead of something that feels like a bed of nails like from those sleep hacks across the street …”
“They have something that feels like a bed of nails?”
“What?”
“Bed of nails, those sleep hacks across the street have something that feels like a bed of nails?”
“Ummm, well yeah, that’s what we say … Ok, but hold on, I got ya. If you’d like, Jimmy, one of our delivery drivers, works at a small local hardware store and I’m sure we could throw in a bag of nails, support small business right, that you can toss on the bed, like scattering rose petals for you and the Missus …”
“There’s no Missus … I’m Death. It would make holiday family get togethers very uncomfortable.”
“Ok, well, bag of nails just for you it is then”
… and then after checking in on potential modern day witches …
“Do you have a soap or some oils that can just ease some tension, possibly transport me away to a better place? I think I’ve seen a commercial like that … a place like … HELL!”
“ummmm, Ok then, well?”
“Gotcha! I saw ya glancing over at that crystal … witch”…
… and after you’ve a grabbed a smoke outside the Exxon while you’re getting yelled at for your loitering could you at least let me feed the cats and have my dinner and maybe clean a litter box or two? I would SO hate to have to face the end of days, you know, the rapture or something, even if you all do the rapture, I’m not sure, or some sort of reckoning, with messy litter boxes and on an empty stomach.
“Will do”
Thanks.
Alright Bella, alright Ms Cricket … Last Fancy Feast “Savory Centers”
Eat up quickly girls, I don’t know what kind of deadline he might be facin’.
I got a phone call last night from my old boss at Spectrum Sports, a reminder of our past Friday Night High School football games, a dear friend and the director of those games. He was feeling a bit melancholy for the old days where a Friday night at this time of year was me walking the sidelines with a parabolic mic and he directing a crew’s live broadcast of whoever was our game of the week. I won’t go into the why why’s that that is no longer the case as it would just piss me off but I suddenly felt the same melancholy.
Now, I don’t get out of the house much, intentionally, I don’t really see the lure, not even on a Friday, the penultimate day right? I got cats and this Attic blog spot for company with plenty to say in it but I do miss those games, miss having an actual reason to go and hang out with the coolest of crews, and especially to just enjoy Fall as nothing speaks “Fall” more than High School Football Fridays.
So a re-post then of something of mine from back in the Fall of 2019, one of my favorite posts about those Football Fridays.
Cheers Greg.
September 23, 2019
I know it’s only Saturday evening but I’m calling it, calling it a weekend. I mean unless something extraordinary happens to me in my apartment between now and tomorrow night like one of my gang suddenly starting to speak and threatening to expose the shit that “only the cat saw”, aliens finally deciding that I should come along for the ride (please, no probing, at least not there) or the radiation from a meteor that lands in the backyard transforming me into a superhero with probably suspect abilities then this weekend’s story is done.
Now you can have the Cliffs Notes version or the extended one (But hey? Aren’t you aiming for us to read both? … shut up smart ass).
Cliffs Notes:
– Did another High School Football game last night, this time in Guilderland (upstate NY), a place that sounds almost mythical until you drive by about 300 strip malls and shopping plaza’s in the 4 miles from the Thruway exit.
– Ask the question of how far would you drive for free pizza and notice, while you’re eating it, a crapload of trails in the sky. Note that chemtrail conspiracy theorists were probably peeing themselves at the sight.
– Enjoy the hell out of the latest football game and the ref who seemed a bit Will Ferrell in his seriousness leaving you to wonder where he kept his cowbell.
– Also enjoy the hell out of the group of kids from Guilderland who form the plugged in pep band in tune with the student “Red Wave” section of the crowd. Mention to the really nice woman in charge of the band, who you remember from last year’s game and remembers you, how it would be fun if the student section changed up some of the typical football crowd chants.
– Try not to make eye contact with the three kids at your McDonald’s stop, before your ride home with BB, who are starting to animatedly grouse loudly about the wait time knowing that it’s just not a conversation you want to get into with Mama Bear and the flamboyants.
– Tell Celie to “shussshh” when she says don’t worry about folding her stuff that’s in the dryer letting her know that, as domestic chores goes, you don’t mind doing laundry, you just don’t do socks or the flimsies. No, they just get lumped in a pile on top.
– Get knocked out of a fantasy basketball draft right before your 5th and 6th round picks because Mimi the Quirky fell off her cat window seat right onto the the power strip and restarted your PC.
– Talk to Bella like she were human about how nice it would be if today’s weather were the year round norm.
– Get that errant tan cow back in the fold.
– Accidentally have two extra cats slip by you and decide that they like the “new” of Uncle Steve’s apartment and proceed to eat all of the Bella, Cricket the Blind and Mimi the Quirky food. Apologize to Bella.
– Fight off the onslaught of stink bugs who’s lease on their summer digs has expired and are now converging on the house.
– Find something new on Amazon Prime or Netflix after finally finishing season one of the fantastic “Carnival Row” on Wednesday night and then season two of the mesmerizing “Dark” on Thursday knowing that whatever you find probably won’t rate.
– Wake up tomorrow for like 5 minutes and then say “fuck it” and go back to bed till Monday.
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Not Cliffs Notes:
Well another High School football game is in the books, me and BB making the trek again, this time to Guilderland (upstate NY), a place that sounds almost mythical as you wonder of it’s origins on the ride. Is it maybe a place of Middle Earth, as the name might imply, where all guilds originate and thrive but must stay hidden from Middle Earth’s evils for fear of them discovering their magic? In this possible Middle Earth is Frodo the must see attraction as the latest barefooted kicker to take the football world by storm or does Sean Astin maybe summer here in a quaint little cottage named “Samwise”? Not sure. Just know that whatever mythology the name might sound to possess will quickly fade as you pass 300 or so strip malls and shopping plazas in a just 4 mile stretch from exit 24 of the NY State Thruway to your first left hand turn toward your destination.
Sigh …
So much for possible magic.
I did though, answer a question you may have asked at some point of just how far will you drive for free pizza. For me? Two hours and about 100 miles, though 400 miles short of being the man who would fall down at your door (plus some work and stuff after ya clean your hands and wipe your mouth). I also found out the answer to a question I never even thought to ask. How much will a pizza place try to charge your boss for paper plates and napkins on top of the price of six really large pies and five two liter bottles of soda, including, somehow, Royal Crown Cola? 50 bucks in case you’re curious. Two bucks a person they said. Gotta give ’em credit for the chutzpah and adherence to shameless capitalism. 50 freakin’ dollars, for paper plates they would probably just send Billy, the delivery driver, hoping he doesn’t get lost again, to grab at the Dollar Store next door in the one of 300 plus strip malls/shopping plazas they’re located in.
PS … strip mall pizza place. If you’re gonna try an rook someone on the cost of paper plates and napkins you best at least make that cola a fucking Coke, not a dusted off Royal Crown.
But, to their credit, it was really good pizza, messy-finger square pies again like last week, and while I was eating that messy-finger square pie pizza and drinking the nostalgia of Royal Crown Cola I noted, in the skies above, an abundance of airplane trails, a crapload of them criss crossing every which way above my head and my only thought was that if there were any Chemtrail nutters in this here neck of the woods they were probably peeing themselves, after rushing to their bunkers, at the sight.
Once the game got started and I was in my usual spot with my usual parabolic I enjoyed myself again, as I always do on these Friday nights and my enjoyment was enhanced by the kids of the pep band, so in tune with the “Red Wave” student fan section. I was reminded of how much I enjoyed last year’s game here when I ran into their director, who I remembered, and she me, and helped her again find a place on the truck to plug in their little amp for the guitar.
I also remembered her happy. Her joy at what she does with these kids, who fit right in on home game Friday nights where they might not otherwise and how she just couldn’t stop smiling. I felt like the big guy at the table by just being able to help them find an outlet for that amp. She’s exactly the reason teachers need to be paid more. About a dozen kids sitting cross legged in front of some upside down buckets, also all smiling, drum sticks in hand and at the ready, each sporting their own statement of themselves when it comes to hair or adornment but still playing for team, fronting a band that belted out classics coordinated with the student section.
My only thought to her, at the end of the game, was that maybe the student section should change up the standard “THIS IS OUR HOUSE” or “YOU CAN’T DO THAT” kind of thing with something a bit more fun and left field like “MY MOM LOVES APPLE PIE” or “MY NEPHEW IS AFRAID OF SNAKES” or “THIS IS OUR HOUSE…TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF WE JUST HAD THE CARPETS DONE” … Yeah, Ok … but still, it’s an idea.
There was also the ref who was always with me in my spot, or I should say, I was always with him, almost stalker-like, who was ultra serious but in a Will Farrell kind of way. I just kept waiting for him to go for cowbell instead of his whistle held so coolly tight in his left hand.
Then it was game done, a goodnight to the cool kids in the band (you’re in a band, you ARE the cool kids) who were happy to have aided Guilderland in their victory, a goodnight to their director and her smile and a breakdown of our stuff.
After my stop at the whatever McDonald’s that was there in Guilderland before my and BB’s ride home, a stand alone by the way, not one in any of the 300 plus strip malls or shopping plazas and a trying not to make eye contact with the three kids who were starting to animatedly grouse loudly about the wait time, hoping to be heard and seen in an “it’s all about us” kind of way, I gladly grabbed my large coke (Not RC) and large fries and headed toward the door, quickly, before getting into a conversation I didn’t want to get into with Mama Bear and the flamboyants.
Eventually, after gettin’ home about 1, hittin’ the rack around 4 and then being up again at 7 it was back to my regular Saturday. The usual routine, just lacking a bit on the sleep side. I do so like getting back to routine even if it is with a lack of sleep.
Pop my one weekly hamper of laundry in, run to Stop N Shop for the feeding of cats and a Steve, come back and tell Celie to “oh, shussshh” when she says don’t worry about folding her stuff that’s in the dryer, just put it in a pile in a basket, she says, while letting her know, as I always do, that I just can’t do that and that, as domestic chores go, I’m Ok with laundry, I just don’t do/fold socks or the flimsies (I also always make it a point to mention that I look away at the flimsies…with a dramatic southern belle-esque head tossed, hand fanning “Oh My!” Don’t want anyone to get to thinkin’ there’s a creepy goin’ on here). No, that’s the only thing that gets lumped in a pile, on top of the, of course, have to be folded.
Then it was a fantasy basketball draft at 10 as, even though I don’t know basketball all that well, I need something to get me past the fact that all of my all season long first or second place fantasy Baseball teams got knocked out in the first round of the playoffs…again, leaving me to, at best, come in 7th or 6th or maybe 5th. Then Mimi the Quirky fell off her cat window seat right onto the power strip and restarted my PC…two picks before my 5th and 6th round choices. I was drafting blind. Cricket understands. But Mimi was Ok, maybe just a little cat embarrassed. I reassured her of course while trying not to laugh, or at least not letting her see my slight laughter.
I cowboyed up and wrangled one errant tan cow back into the fold with much cajoling, patience and a bucket full of cow feed bribery while making friends with one slobbery big guy who wasn’t wary like the rest and was more than happy to be the stand-in for his errant pal when it came to handfuls from the bucket of bribery.
I took a moment or three to sit in a window with my Bella and talk with her, pal to pal, about how nice it would be if today’s weather were the year round norm before heading downstairs only to, accidentally, have two extra cats (Penny and Cujo) slip by and decide that they like the “new” of Uncle Steve’s apartment and proceed to eat all of the Bella, Cricket the Blind and Mimi the Quirky food. I apologized to Bella as she gave me that disapproving look I know all too well.
I also took measures to fight off the onslaught of stink bugs who’s lease on their summer digs has apparently expired and are now converging on the house. Mostly it involved me just flicking the window screens…but I did it with an angry raised fist “damn you stink bugs!” drama and authority.
Finally, I’m done, after realizing, again, that I’m a little old to be doing what was easy in my college years when it comes to sleep, or the lack thereof. Time to find something new on Amazon Prime or Netflix after finishing season one of the absolutely fantastic “Carnival Row” on Wednesday night and then season two of the complex and mesmerizing “Dark” on Thursday though I know that whatever I find probably won’t rate.
So even though I may be calling it a weekend early on a Saturday night I think I’m good. It’s been full. It’s had moments and they are moments that I’ll remember which is all we can really ask for. I’ll wake up tomorrow for like 5 minutes, check my fantasy football teams and then say “fuck it” and go back to bed till Monday.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
frankenberrysattic.com 