Can you hummus a few bars?

A dear lady friend of mine often said she couldn't wait to be a senior so she could 'wear purple and spit on the sidewalk'. It is good to have a clearly defined goal in life. To me, the statement meant she wanted freedom from the constraints of everyday civility and desired to reject acceptable social behaviour, so I married her, we bought a bolt of cloth, and instantly became the shame of the neighbourhood.
I felt like...why wait? Let's do it now while we still have our health.

As for my goal in life, I am still being shut out, although I have hit two posts and a crossbar. I should have seen this coming. As a child my siblings and I would whine about how much we would like to have a fishbowl. Mom gave us salmonella and we all lined up at the bowl. I suspect she wanted to spit on the sidewalk too.

I had actually hoped to die young, but that hasn't happened, despite the residents of the seniors' complex I live in calling me 'the new kid.' The obvious reasoning behind the ubiquitous handrails in the building is to give a fella a fighting chance of navigating a hallway without slipping & falling, either cracking a skull or drowning in spittle. I broke my eyeglasses a couple of weeks back and have been living in a purple haze ever since. (Sorry...I hate that kind of cheap humour)

I once dreamed I was the last porkchop on a platter at a Bar Mitzvah. A study in complete failure if there ever was one. Rodney Dangerfield wanted to buy that one from me and when I said no because I thought he was a rotten comic, he said "I tell yuh, I don't get no respect!" and the rest is history. He got 'Caddyshack' and I got a one way ticket to Palookaville.

Never carry meat home in your pants pockets. The one time I was walking home with my pockets stuffed I had a life changing encounter with a ravenous dog that had either really bad aim or trouble making a decision. He was obviously a Canadian dog, because he went straight to the middle of the load. I prefer not to talk about that too much, other than to tell you that ever since I have no real good answer for a tailor when he is measuring pants.
I guess I could say I dress with what's left, right?
(Please see my previous apology.)

I put 2 1/2 lbs of cut up stewing beef in my slow cooker in the middle of the night to avoid contributing to the intense daytime heat in my apartment only to find (after 4 hours) I had it on the 'warm' setting. It would have cooked faster sitting on the counter. Also turned out that the only veggie in the house was a carrot with a deep gash down it's length looking like it had been grazed by a heavy calibre bullet.
Time to buy another can of potatoes.

At this point I have totally forgotten the theme for this blog. Hummus a few bars?
What the hell does that mean? I shouldn't start these things until I have thrown up at least a pot of coffee.
Cheers everyone!
I love Lois.