Ash Heap Hound (3)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (3)"
   
Okay--me:  Zoe,
And my firm thighs aren't doughy;
Still, I once told my mother that her thighs appeared as cookie dough with a sloppy stir;
Thus, the shame resonates, and she's a living ghost--being free, like energized myrrh.

So, I sing:
I'm a red-ribbon winner, cause life is a race;
I'll get my Blue Ribbon one day!!!

   Then, I spotted Conner.  So lean and damned determined, working on replacing the carburetor on his 1969 Mustang with a factory hood induction and a 302 block--swift out of the hole.
   His head of curly-chestnut hair beyond being feathered, looking like a Hollywood perm, yet so tangible and real.  Couldn't take my stare away from his physical presence.  And he was awesomely affable.  Very much so.  Hence, why shouldn't I crush on him?

Ash Heap Hound (2)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (2)"
   
MOPAR is really an acronym--for:
Massively Overpowered And Respected--mine, with four on the floor;
Moreover, the "Cuda was Base-Jumping bliss, making me ultra-free
On the highway, and in two trailers when parked at the junkyard, where I sojourn and BE,
For residing next to my place was my heart's desire, a dude named Conner,
A handsome, hard-working hound lover--no yawner.   

Ash Heap Hound (1)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (1)"
   
   My name is Zoe Barduff--ya heard me!!!  
   I'm blonde and athletic, they call me a hot chick--does that bother you?
   I live in a junkyard.  Very urban, yet metals and such offer metaphysical protection as do those bucolic parts of America and the rural aspects of it all.  Living here is like being on the fictional planet of Cybertron--that fabricated place the Transformers are from; plus, a little bit of George Lucas' 1973 American Graffiti mixed in, when old John Milner was street racing.  I liked being a scrap girl.
   I drove a restored Plymouth Barracuda with a 383 block.  It was damn fast.  I just call it my 'Cuda.  

Montreal Expos and Late Nights

   
   "Montreal Expos and Late Nights"
   
   There was nothing more relaxing in the 1990's than watching The Late Late Show with Tom Snyder, when it was actually entertaining; specifically, it was totally chill, yet had grooves over the glacial conditions of comedy for mobile stability.
   Mr. Snyder had spiritually hawkish people on board the airwaves, such as:  Robert Conrad, Robert Blake, and ex-pitcher for the Montreal Expos, Bill Francis Lee, him more importantly and better known as simply:  SPACEMAN.
   Yup, back when Canada had more MLB potency.  But don't worry, I still pull for the USA in them Rio-running Olympics, for I know:  Americans love their chicken nuggets and salty fries after heroic competition.  

Love Contrivance (25)

   
   "Love Contrivance (25)"

   They were rewriting history in Nashville/Franklin, morphing the axiomatic truth into ghosts gone missing, not remembering the sacrifices bravely made by so many.  Hell, no one gave a rat's ass about me taking care of Grandma save Lucy and the sublime specters of the Otherworld.  
   And as Grandma and myself were watching a classic episode of THE ROY ROGERS SHOW, with his thunderously amazing dog Bullet, I cranked open a can of peaches in heavy syrup; then, I fed them to Grandma, slipping them inside her oral cavity, for sometimes her mouth wouldn't open, yet she always loved being minty fresh; thus, the tooth-brushing usually went well.
   Lucy came over with some turkey meat and a block of cheddar; plus, a couple of cans of pears in heavy syrup, knowing the cheddar might back Grandma up a bit, and the anchoring down of her fecal matter within the large intestine only caused me more labor, having to be on poop patrol every minute.
   Lucy picked at my cerebral aspects, wanting to eagerly know if I had carnally scored with Ai.  Of course I hadn't, but explained why, not knowing if a robotic vaginal cavity might be more deadly, such as being armed with a device to cut through flesh, instead of a corporeal chick full of gonorrhea, where after engaging her in intercourse; next, you piss razor blades till the Doc shoots your flabby ass full of antibiotics.
   But hell--it was all cool.  And I had Lucy laughing snot due to my wacky neurosis, yet she put a loving hand on mine, saying:  "Just be yourself Simon Swiss, for you're an okay guy."  

The Full Sturgeon Moon: August 18, 2016

   
   "The Full Sturgeon Moon:  August 18, 2016"
   
   An illuminated time of being pampered by SpongeBob and his aquatic friends; specifically, major bodies of water and the Great Lakes kick it up with large, floppy fish, blessing you with wild things both bountiful and beneficial, like beautification of the body if you eagerly consume all the Omega-3 Fatty Acids that you can.  
   This is a time of abundant relaxation, knowing nature provides a plethora of plenty, if not over industrialized; thus, cosset yourself, yet be on the watch for strategically-lurking werewolves, as nobody really knows what the hell is going on in this world save those full of knowing.  

Love Contrivance (24)

   
   "Love Contrivance (24)"
   
   I wasn't perniciously pissed @ Hope Solo; moreover, I understand frigid frustration--hell, I'm as neurotic as a white cat without the enchantment of magic; still, their feline-like, Multiversal Magic might be wondrously greater--ya never know.
   And the Women's Swedish Soccer Team--so what!?!
   Strategic as it comes, and didn't Sherman, from them Federal/Union Ranks admit that troops accounted for were not the actual numbers on the battlefield?
   Yup, been going to the Williamson County Library in Downtown Franklin, reading about the Confederate and Yankee specters that haunt with teachable moments.
   I pulled for the USA--of course; nevertheless, I admired other cultures, not so much their cuisine, liking BURGER KING and all the condemns passed out at public schools.  Hell, it's America.  Give the suffering sick and strangely ill their medicine damn't!!!
   But there is quicksand controversy, and Bravo Sierra everywhere!!!