Speaking Of

• The new season of Walking Dead begins this Sunday, and I’m sort of at that juncture in the marriage where I can retake the vows or have an affair.
• So of course, me being me . . I’m having an affair with the latest season of American Horror Story. And so far, so very strange with 1984, but I’m cool with it seeing as how it’s a vacation in the ’80’s.
• The ’80’s is where Trump was building hotels and not walls. Seems that a few years ago, he was talking up an alligator filled moat to go along with his wall . . which was MY idea. Only difference is a moat wouldn’t have required a wall. Putz.
• Too many putzes with drivers licenses. I honked at this dude who was trailing an Amish buggy rather than passing it (buggies have slow moving vehicle triangles which allow you to pass). Annoyed, he waved me around him, shortly after which he turned into his driveway. Right turn signals work wonders, if you use ’em.
• Okay, I’m always in a hurry. Which is why I go self checkout at the grocery store. Checkout lines are teeming with delays and the ten items or less lane is a big fat lie. But it’s not like I ain’t down with social dishing. As with the nerdy high school girl manning the deli counter who brought the snark. We engaged in some entertaining banter as she did up my order. Personality wins the day.
• But peeps who shout into their phone while it’s on speaker make me wanna lose it. Bluetooth was invented because the world doesn’t want to hear about Aunt Lucy’s gallstones.
• Which she probably got from eating at McDonald’s. Of course, she won’t admit it was McDonald’s fault because she probably insists she never eats there. Like the half a trillion people it’s served . . . most of whom never, ever go there.
• Why is it that as soon as an individual is legally permitted to rent a car, they no longer fess up to eating at McDonald’s?
• Not my sister, though. She doesn’t give a blessed fuck who knows about it, even if her rationale for certain of her . . umm . . nutritional choices is a tad bit skewed. And Imma give you a for instance from the other night when me and sis stopped off at a convenience store before my birthday dinner.

Sister: They don’t have diet ginger ale, what the fuck?
Me: Get the good stuff . . go crazy.
Sister: Nah, I don’t drink my calories.
Me: Here’s a thought, get regular ginger ale, because we’re eating fried chicken tonight.
Sister: Here’s a thought, walk home.

• And if you’re wrong, don’t play it like you’re right. The way the Raiders are doing when they defend Vontaze Burfict for being a thug. The linebacker was suspended for the season after his latest dirty hit and Raiders players were shocked(!), claiming Vontaze is just misunderstood. Just another example of professional athletes whining that we should believe what they say rather than what our eyes tell us.
• And my eyes are telling me this is my favorite Halloween costume of the season, and I know it’s early, but . . .

• And if you want scary good, my Nashville hot fried chicken birthday dinner with my kids, niece and sister- followed with ghost stories by candlelight? Good as it gets.
• Speaking of good as it gets, the girl went to the Global Citizen Festival in NYC last weekend She shutterbugged me their peach vantage point right up by the stage and snippeted me a tune here and there from various of the powerhouse lineup. And all was right with the world as Freddie held court and my little girl sang to Queen inside a glorious evening.
• I promised myself I’d never post the cover to this song, but Imma break the rules.
• Not like it’s the first time . . .