They asked me if I have ever called the Shmata Queen a broad or a skirt and I asked them to answer their own question.
They came back at me in multiple places and I provided multiple answers because I could. It was that simple and that complicated.
“But Jack, I don’t understand. Tell me more about you two.”
Good old Datingmaster Jerusalem, haven’t a clue where he went but if I said this post was about him he would get very excited.
It is not, he isn’t referenced there and probably hasn’t been in years, though I could be wrong about that.
Blog issues prevent me from checking easily because the comments on older posts don’t seem to want to load. Not sure why they are hidden because if I try to edit the posts I can see them.
Sometimes it bothers me because some of the best content came from or was in the comments section.
Apparently, it doesn’t bother me enough to spend time researching a fix, but who knows what the future holds.
Anything can happen somewhere down the road because even though I can smile without you I just want to spend that weekend in New England.
Ten points for anyone who catches one reference there and 25 if you aren’t confused by the mix of artists and songs.
And here we go, more music.
Swallow The Seed
One day I’ll tell you the story about drinking pulp-filled orange juice at a work function and what happened when someone said be careful not to swallow the seed.
Hell if that didn’t come this close to turning into an HR moment for multiple people, including myself and I wasn’t the one who said it.
Someone said I was getting bolder with my commentary in reference to some comments I made to the boss and it was construed by another as having been a reference to the whole swallow the seed mishegoss.
As a side note, I like orange juice but I generally don’t like a lot of pulp in it, but I digress.
Most of the time I am relatively fast on my feet and adept at talking my way through situations but this one was harder than most.
Because the people involved were certain about what they thought had been said and uninterested in being told there had been a misunderstanding.
Cue more music.
A Few More Words
Got so much more to say but listening to Bruce sing is taking me to other places and I have to stop typing long enough to enjoy the ride.
But not before admitting some of this stuff touches those places and spaces where the skin isn’t thick and maybe never was nor will be.
Regret, hope and a dash of optimism that fights the what ifs of the time are sitting on my shoulders, asking that I take a hard look at certain situations and acknowledge the truth of what is and the possibility of what isn’t.
Not such a bad thing, is it.