So Eh-net most graciously gifted me this Dee-brained space two years ago almost. Glancing thru its smooth new look I noticed that for two consecutive Octobers, I’ve not written anything. I’m trying to think of what may have prevented me from writing during that month.

This year, I know it’s ‘cuz I spent the whole time down in Vero, rotating management staff like my chair in the local Cracker Barrel. But last October? Hmmm…I’m gonna hafta put my head to this.

Ooohhhh…maybe some scandalous, sordid tale of debauchery? Yep. If not, I’m totally gonna make some shit up…Maybe I can sell it to finally pay Eh-net her yearly dues.

Stay tuned.

Ok so here’s the 411 on the Times-Union fakery…

So a couple years ago, during a convention that required our full names to be submitted for admission to said convention…Vern goes ahead and writes our names on the form and mails it in. All is good until the admissions lady can’t find Dee Fortin anywhere in the registrar. What? It’s there. I know it’s there. My (completely whacko) parental unit mailed it in for me.

No ma’am. But we DO have a Doe Fostin. Doe Fostin. Great. I shoulda remembered and hence prohibited Vern from attempting anything like perfect adherance to the principles of our written english language. You know the folks who deciphered the Rossetta Stone? Not brilliant enough to decipher Vern Weiss’s handwriting. I use the term; “handwriting,” loosely.

Hardy har har. A good laugh was had by all except me who had to walk around with some freakish scroll on her nametag and folks glancing from namebadge to face and face to namebadge, muttering ; “What an odd name, Harriet.”  “Yes, I agree Hortence, kids these days…”

There went the tale of Doe Fostin. Thanks Vern, for never forgetting and for beating THAT horse waaaay past dead.

 On to the A. Bourbon hilarity…Not her real name, by the way.

So about 6 or 7 years ago I had this thing called a girlfriend. I know, I KNOW! Hard to believe. On my birthday, Sept.4th, (for anyone who hasn’t written this in magic marker on calendars from here to eternity) I called her up to ask why she was so late for my birthday party at Lu and Vern’s.

Cue the heavy Cuban accent;

“Hey Babe…. Que? Today? Oh no Babe, today ees not your birthday. Eet’s tomorrow.”

{Groan}

Vern and Lu never liked that one. She remains my friend, but golly, she can be OUT THERE to this day. Not my freakin’ birthday? WHAT?

Girlfriends are long gone from my plans. (Any girl would be DOOMED to suffer thru Vern’s antics and I haven’t enough money to pay for the hazards of the job.)

Oh well. It’s all good and all lighthearted.

And it’s so good to laugh in this here life. It’s the best thing ever.

So thanks, clown feet, for making my day.

(editors note* see below. )

*Clown feet, clown feet. You haaaaaave clown feet.

 And so does Benji, the kid who gave his all to win our gadget of the month contest.

Hence, the golden tickets to the game. Nosebleed section or not, we did park ourselves comfortably along the 50 yard line.

I do believe he was excited to see our fine Jaguars put the smackdown on the Carolina Panthers. He even participated in our ritualistic, “Move the chains,”  first down fodder…

Despite the fact that a fight broke out in the sausage line and I had to be detained for most of the first quarter to give a statement. Geesh. Why can’t overweight, no-shirt wearing, painted men just get along? Who knows. But free tickets are my lovely parting gift. I suppose my nine dollar Italian sausage will be lost forever.

 Beer should be banned. So should overweight, no-shirt wearing, painted men.

I had a great day, all in all.

And I’m so proud that I got to take Benji along.

Those folks who asked if Benji was my son, had no idea how happy I was on the inside. If only I could’ve had a son…he’d be just like Benji.

And that, my friends, makes every Jag game a winning one…

The Dlog has a new look thanks to Eh-net. I still don’t know if this will be what I settle on, but I can browse at my leisure and figure it out. At least I don’t have to bug my pal each time I feel compelled to add a photo or some lame link.

So…as we settle in to the shiny Christmas season…I’m settling in to my new shiny blog.

Peace on our bit of Earth.

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