Since Wp wILL NOT ALLOW ME TO DROP THIS IN…Rhonda Jo: Chapter Le Premier: “Help Help Me Rhonda” (This Post is All Fukked Up. Discombobulated–Caint Edit… N/M…

Cred: Lovely Joni!

***

Suffice To Say: Marriage Doesn’t Work For Me!

***

I Needed “Help”

Got it

Thanks to Rhonda

She Allowed Me to Discover ‘Love’ Again

Self-Pity is a worse disease than alcoholism.
I can ‘fix’ alcoholism.
Have not yet found a cure for self-pity or regret, or loneliness.
These plagues plague me.
Constantly
Relentlessly

Incessantly

****

Help Me Rhonda

Spoiler:

She Did

Cred: Beeech Boyz

Then I Wronged Her

This ain’t Rhonda, but a pretty (really pretty) reasonable facsimile.

(Just like Rhonda)

Once Janet and I had escaped (In the middle of the night) from Nacogdoches, after having sold out and sold our “Aquarium World” Crud-Eater Tropical Fish Emporium to a young couple for not nearly what it was worth, we headed to Plano.

(Not sure why Plano)

Got there. Early in the A.M.
Just in time to find an apartment.

Found one, but we were near to broke.

West Plano—where all the yuppies and rich folk lived.

We managed to move in though.

No FURNITURE.

(We were used to that)

After about a month, we got kicked out.

Because we were deemed to be “White Trash.”

Fuck ‘em.

We found a cheaper apartment in East Plano that was FURNISHED.

Janet announced to me one day that she wanted to be a ‘housewife’ for one year.

Considering what I had put her through and what a ‘trooper’ she had always been, I agreed.

So I got a job which paid shit, but just enough to make her dream come true.

We would manage.

The job was a ‘factory’ job for a Mom and Pop company:

SPAN INSTRUMENTS

They made gauges. Pressure gauges. Mostly for fire trucks.

I was hired as a ‘Calibration Technician.’

For the gauges.

(Yeah, with all of my fucking ‘math skills.’)

But I never missed work and so they kept upping my pay.

So it was easy for me to keep my promise to my wife.

Then entered Rhonda Jo:

More White-Trash Than Me

It was inevitable Love at First Sight–

I could read The Writing on the Wall

***

Throwing a spanner in the works of my marriage.

To be continued…

Teaser:

Rhonda Jo: Chapter Le Premier: “Help Help Me Rhonda” (This Post is All Fukked Up. Discombobulated–Caint Edit… N/M…

Cred: Lovely Joni!

***

Suffice To Say: Marriage Doesn’t Work For Me!

***

I Needed “Help”

Got it

Thanks to Rhonda

She Allowed Me to Discover ‘Love’ Again

Self-Pity is a worse disease than alcoholism.
I can ‘fix’ alcoholism.
Have not yet found a cure for self-pity or regret, or loneliness.
These plagues plague me.
Constantly
Relentlessly

Incessantly

****

Help Me Rhonda

Spoiler:

She Did

Cred: Beeech Boyz

Then I Wronged Her

This ain’t Rhonda, but a pretty (really pretty) reasonable facsimile.

(Just like Rhonda)

Once Janet and I had escaped (In the middle of the night) from Nacogdoches, after having sold out and sold our “Aquarium World” Crud-Eater Tropical Fish Emporium to a young couple for not nearly what it was worth, we headed to Plano.

(Not sure why Plano)

Got there. Early in the A.M.
Just in time to find an apartment.

Found one, but we were near to broke.

West Plano—where all the yuppies and rich folk lived.

We managed to move in though.

No FURNITURE.

(We were used to that)

After about a month, we got kicked out.

Because we were deemed to be “White Trash.”

Fuck ‘em.

We found a cheaper apartment in East Plano that was FURNISHED.

Janet announced to me one day that she wanted to be a ‘housewife’ for one year.

Considering what I had put her through and what a ‘trooper’ she had always been, I agreed.

So I got a job which paid shit, but just enough to make her dream come true.

We would manage.

The job was a ‘factory’ job for a Mom and Pop company:

SPAN INSTRUMENTS

They made gauges. Pressure gauges. Mostly for fire trucks.

I was hired as a ‘Calibration Technician.’

For the gauges.

(Yeah, with all of my fucking ‘math skills.’)

But I never missed work and so they kept upping my pay.

So it was easy for me to keep my promise to my wife.

Then entered Rhonda Jo:

More White-Trash Than Me

It was inevitable Love at First Sight–

I could read The Writing on the Wall

***

Throwing a spanner in the works of my marriage.

To be continued…

Teaser:

Rhonda: Chapter Le Premier: “Help Help Me Rhonda” (This Post is All Fukked Up. Discombobulated–Caint Ed… N/M… Suffice To Say: “Fuk U WordPress!”)

I Needed “Help”

Got it

Thanks to Rhonda

She Allowed Me to Discover ‘Love’ Again

Self-Pity is a worse disease than alcoholism.
I can ‘fix’ alcoholism.
Have not yet found a cure for self-pity or regret, or loneliness.
These plagues plague me.
Constantly
Relentlessly

Incessantly

****

Help Me Rhonda

Spoiler:

She Did

Cred: Beeech Boyz

Then I Wronged Her

This ain’t Rhonda, but a pretty (really pretty) reasonable facsimile.

(Just like Rhonda)

Once Janet and I had escaped (In the middle of the night) from Nacogdoches, after having sold out and sold our “Aquarium World” Crud-Eater Tropical Fish Emporium to a young couple for not nearly what it was worth, we headed to Plano.

(Not sure why Plano)

Got there. Early in the A.M.
Just in time to find an apartment.

Found one, but we were near to broke.

West Plano—where all the yuppies and rich folk lived.

We managed to move in though.

No FURNITURE.

(We were used to that)

After about a month, we got kicked out.

Because we were deemed to be “White Trash.”

Fuck ‘em.

We found a cheaper apartment in East Plano that was FURNISHED.

Janet announced to me one day that she wanted to be a ‘housewife’ for one year.

Considering what I had put her through and what a ‘trooper’ she had always been, I agreed.

So I got a job which paid shit, but just enough to make her dream come true.

We would manage.

The job was a ‘factory’ job for a Mom and Pop company:

SPAN INSTRUMENTS

They made gauges. Pressure gauges. Mostly for fire trucks.

I was hired as a ‘Calibration Technician.’

For the gauges.

(Yeah, with all of my fucking ‘math skills.’)

But I never missed work and so they kept upping my pay.

So it was easy for me to keep my promise to my wife.

Then entered Rhonda Jo:

More White-Trash Than Me

It was inevitable Love at First Sight–

I could read The Writing on the Wall

***

Throwing a spanner in the works of my marriage.

To be continued…

Teaser:

***PROFANITY Alert*** This One Ain’t ‘Sanitized’–For-Your-Protection “I Want Another Dog (This man don’t need no maid) He ‘needs’ a doggy. Reference Neil below…”

This was my last dog–Fully All-Mine Dog–

Lock, Stock & All Four Paws DOG.

Picked Him From The Litter.

Paid My Money.

Took My Chances and Drove Him Home.

I Named Him

‘Tejas’

Y’all Should Be Able To Figure Out Why

He Wasn’t Terrible Bright

But I Loved Him Anyway

He Grew Into A Hundred-Thirty Pound

‘Bull-In-A-China-Closet Dog

(He Destroyed Every-Thing He Looked AT)

i.e., He Ran Rampant

We ‘lived’ together in Missouri with some woman.

Her name escapes me.

I think we were married Once.

But I forget her name.

No Matter; She Was Not Important to Me

But The Dog Was

I am lonely and the maids all tell me to fuck the fuck off when I try to invite them in for coffee. Just fucking coffee. That’s all. They got no time. Cannot be bothered.

I need some creature to love me

Unconditionally.

(If I go to the animal shelter and all the doggies tell me to fuck off–I may have some personal problems that need sorting out, but we ain’t there yet. Thank God)

Two legs or four. No more. I am done with spiders and snakes. I want something cuddly to love me. No more spiders or ants. Ever try to cuddle up to an ant or a spider? Trust me: it never works out as you had envisioned...

I cannot afford to be particular at this point, but I think a dog would do the trick.

Cats good too, but they are not very affectionate.

However, they are very

Low Maintenance.

Kinda like self-cleaning ovens.

Low Maintenance

I Like That in-a-cat

***

But I want a fuckin’ ‘Toto Too’

“Someplace Where There Isn’t Any trouble”

Cred For Vid Share: MOV Clips

***

Toto! I love you!

(Dorothy I Love you too—But this ain’t about you–

I Have Already Spilled Enuff Ink On You)

More to come.

Maybe

Maybe not.

Never find one to replace the ones below….

But a reasonable facsimile…. I’ll settle for second or third best.

That would be groovy.

I disagree Neil!

I want a FUCKIN’ DOG!!

Not a Maid

(A maid’s half-life in my house would be about 20 minutes)

“I fell in love with the actress; she was playing a part I could understand.”

No Shit Neil?!

Been There.

Live There.

Got Lots of T-Shirts

Neil,

I love you Bro, but some of your lyrics and songs just piss me the fuck off. I suppose some things just don’t ‘age’ well. Not your fault. You used to be cool. Now, yer not. Such is life.

I can certainly relate.

I used to be cool too.

Now, I ain’t.

Wanna join my club?

No?

Your loss, not mine.

But I Would NOT Turn A Maid Away, If She Bravely Showed Up

P.S. I am done with turtles too!

Bonus Bonus Onus, Own Us Bonus!

See? See Link Below. Read it. Weep.

I love all kinds of critters.

But I WANT A FUCKKNG DOG

(And I will resist the urge to speak of any of my ex-wives—save that for later)

Why Did I Pick This Particular Un-Manageable Breed?

(Dogue de Bordeaux)

Here’s Why:

Cred For Vid Share: rka1010expendable

*****

I Don’t Know Why I Drop This In

At the End

‘Cept That I Love It.

Reason Enough I Guess

“Catch Up Lance!”

Street Cred For Vid Share: EsmaraldaVillaLobos

****

We Don’t Need

No More Trouble

I Want Another Dog (This man don’t need no maid. See Neil below…) I ‘need’ a doggy.

This was my last dog:

‘Tejas’

We ‘lived’ together in Missouri with some woman.

Her name escapes me.

I think we were married.

But I forget her name.

I am lonely and the maids all tell me to fuck the fuck off when I try to invite them in for coffee. Just fucking coffee. That’s all. They got no time. Cannot be bothered.

I need some creature to love me

Unconditionally.

(If I go to the animal shelter and all the doggies tell me to fuck off–I may have some personal problems that need sorting out, but we ain’t there yet. Thank God)

Two legs or four. No more. I am done with spiders and snakes. I want something cuddly to love me. No more spiders or ants. Ever try to cuddle up to an ant or a spider? Trust me: it never works out as you had planned...

I cannot afford to be particular at this point, but I think a dog would do the trick.

Cats good too, but they are not very affectionate.

However, they are very low maintenance.

Kinda like a self-cleaning oven.

But I want a fuckin’ ‘Toto Too’

Toto! I love you!

(Dorothy I Love you too—But this ain’t about you)

More to come.

Maybe

Maybe not.

Never find one to replace the ones below….

But a reasonable facsimile…. I’ll settle for second or third best.

That would be groovy.

I disagree Neil!

I want a FUCKIN’ DOG!!

Not a Maid

(A maid’s half-life in my house would be about 20 minutes)

“I fell in love with the actress; she was playing a part I could understand.”

No Shit Neil?!

Been There.

Live There.

Got Lots of T-Shirts

Neil,

I love you Bro, but some of your lyrics and songs just piss me the fuck off. I suppose some things just don’t ‘age’ well. Not your fault. You used to be cool. Now, yer not. Such is life.

I can certainly relate.

I used to be cool too.

Now, I ain’t.

Wanna join my club?

No?

Your loss, not mine.

P.S. I am done with turtles too!

Bonus Bonus Onus, Own Us Bonus!

See? See Link Below. Read it. Weep.

I love all kinds of critters.

But I WANT A FUCKKNG DOG

(And I will resist the urge to speak of any of my ex-wives—save that for later)

Rhonda: Chapter Le Premier

Help Me Rhonda

Spoiler:

She Did

Then I Wronged Her

This ain’t Rhonda, but a pretty (really pretty) reasonable facsimile.

(Just like Rhonda)

Once Janet and I had escaped (In the middle of the night) from Nacogdoches, after having sold out and sold our “Aquarium World” Crud-Eater Tropical Fish Emporium to a young couple for not nearly what it was worth, we headed to Plano.

(Not sure why Plano)

Got there. Early in the A.M.
Just in time to find an apartment.

Found one, but we were near to broke.

West Plano—where all the yuppies and rich folk lived.

We managed to move in though.

No FURNITURE.

(We were used to that)

After about a month, we got kicked out.

Because we were deemed to be “White Trash.”

Fuck ‘em.

We found a cheaper apartment in East Plano that was FURNISHED.

Janet announced to me one day that she wanted to be a ‘housewife’ for one year.

Considering what I had put her through and what a ‘trooper’ she had always been, I agreed.

So I got a job which paid shit, but just enough to make her dream come true.

We would manage.

The job was a ‘factory’ job for a Mom and Pop company:

SPAN INSTRUMENTS

They made gauges. Pressure gauges. Mostly for fire trucks.

I was hired as a ‘Calibration Technician.’

For the gauges.

(Yeah, with all of my fucking ‘math skills.’)

But I never missed work and so they kept upping my pay.

So it was easy for me to keep my promise to my wife.

Then entered Rhonda Jo:

Throwing a spanner in the works of my marriage.

To be continued…

Teaser: