I Am Sorry I Am So Lame

My last post read like an editorial in a high school newspaper, and for that I apologize. I mean to do better, but it is late, and I’m tired, and I’ve been concentrating on this damn novel at the expense of the poetry and wit you deserve. More retro clipart at http://www.clipartof.com/(caveat: I’ll get paid for the novel, but I get nothing for the blog and even less for poetry–however, if you want more and better original content just let me know and I’ll set up a kickstarter or something–I’m a better poet and a better cook than that potato salad guy).

Send me some money and I’ll make a totally badass pizza. From scratch. Heck, I’ll auction off one of these bad boys (I do a veggie, too, and a white pizza with fresh garlic, just picked from my back yard garden yesterday) and if it goes for over $1000 or equal to .50/mile I’ll deliver it in person, along with an age appropriate beverage. SAM_0490

Ahem, where was I? Anyway, back to the lame posts:  today was the final straw.  My freaking chair broke–it was an old, straight-backed wooden chair that needed some of the dowels replaced.  It was getting wobbly, and I didn’t glue it, and I’m a BIG guy.  One of the dowels broke and it all just came apart.  Now I’m sitting on the most uncomfortable chair in known space–and it’s worse than a lot of the stuff they have in unknown space, too. (trust me, I know.)

It is impossible to write anything interesting when your ass is numb except for the occasional shooting, stabbing, mauling pain as a battered and abused nerve manages to fire.  So that’s where I am–seriously thinking about bringing a lawn chair indoors until I can make it to the thrift store for another comfortable antique.

strays

What the hell?

Here’s a found picture to soften the blow.  That’s a lot of dogs–probably a missed opportunity for a trite jibe at Chinese restaurants.

But really, it’s a good pizza.  And no, I’m not drunk.  My ass just hurts.

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About JunkChuck

Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.
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3 Responses to I Am Sorry I Am So Lame

  1. LOVE the look of that pizza!

    Like

  2. Oh my goodness, your posts are so amusing. I have to agree with John, that pizza looks AMAZING.

    Like

  3. JunkChuck says:

    I used to live in rural Oregon–not a decent Pizza within hundreds of miles, unless you count those whole-grain crust artichoke and spinach hippie abominations–so I had to refine my skills. Thanks for stopping by, and for being amused. I’ve been told my sense of humor is an acquired taste.

    Like

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