OH SHIT!

  ​                    There was a time when I used to gallivant here, gallivant there, why hell, I’d gallivant most anywhere but now that my britches are plumb worn out and I’ve become a real old codger, I’ve given up all that rigmarole. There was a time I could hoodwink almost anybody and sometimes even the slightest skullduggery did wonders for my ego. However, when things took a really bad turn, I jumped into my jalopy and put the pedal to the metal and just drove off into the sunset. Quite often, it’s best to put a kibosh on the whole thing, I mean bejeebers and flibberty-jibbet, jumpin’ out of the frying pan into another hullabaloo could wind up being threatening to one’s health. I’ve seldom been bamboozled but I have been flabbergasted with some of the outcomes of my risky actions and we aren’t talkin’ a slight brouhaha either. Sometimes I’ve been mired down, a little discombobulated but that was when I had a mind to lollygag and not take things too seriously. There have been times during my younger years when my life took a catawampus direction, but I may have been a nincompoop at the time. The smart thing to do was to probably skedaddle before all the shenanigans broke loose but being flummoxed and stuck in my craw like a hunk of pumpernickel, I occasionally went berserk. Other instances, like a garden full of carrots and one periwinkle I was securely rooted and could not escape my unscrupulous decisions. When all seemed lost, feeling sorry for myself, I’d just grab a hold of my thingamajig. What’s that you ask? Well…when you’re confuzzled, in one kerfuffle after another, the world appearing to be full of perpetual poppycock, it’s good to get a hand on things, don’t you think?    
                      Whew! Now some of what I’ve written so far has been completely bogus, utter balderdash and up to my neck pure baloney, and yet if you’re an old fuddy-duddy like myself - I mean thunderation – there is a mote of truth in my words. There have been times when my life took a major skewwiff and if there hadn’t been a railing, I would have been dastardly derailed and lambasted for my decisions. I wouldn’t call myself a flim-flam man, con man or any whatchamacallit but when one is caught up in a concoction of tiny fibs, I’ve sometimes grabbed onto any doohickey within reach until I was gobsmacked and brought back to my senses. Puzzled and slightly disoriented, needing an immediate sense of fulfillment I’ve often had to grab a hold of my thingamabob. What’s that you ask? If you have to ask, then you’re most likely a woman.
                   Over the years I’ve enjoyed the camaraderie of many a knucklehead and wishy-washy individual. Fiddlesticks, let’s face it, anybody with a bottle in a brown-bag caught my attention and some of those destitute, down-behind-a-dumpster souls were a lot more interesting than the bleeding-hearts that were constantly caterwauling over their tiniest misfortunes – I mean a chipped fingernail or an overdone T-bone steak - is hardly anything to get upset about. But let’s get back to some tomfoolery, bodacious, fiddle-dee-dee, willy-nilly, off the wall misinformation. Why hell, I may be a decrepit, persnickety, fill my “Depends” at any given time, wrinkly, saggy-assed old bastard but egad – I have a twinkle in my eye that won’t go out until the day I die. Now I may have had the audacity to write this load of tripe but you my friend are a numb-skull for reading this far…cheers, eh!   

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