Geocel caulk.

Clings to anything. Never goes away. The only way to get rid of it, is to burn it off.

Or take care of. There are plenty of these unruly brats as it is. Giving them money for having them is a huge mistake.

When my job doesn't feel like one, I'd say I have a career. When I start my day, and have it go in a completely different direction than what I set out to do, Then I'd say I've become indispensable to those who know and hire me.

I call it being a fireman. This has flown apart, HELP! So I drop what I'm in the middle of, and go patch the dam. It might not happen for weeks. It could happen 3-4 times in a week.

I never set out to be able to do this. My life's job plan was to work at one occupation. But, when something breaks on the farm, one must fix what broke. Which is where I started.

Your average farmer has to be a mechanic, welder, designer, bookkeeper, heavy equipment operator, truck driver, chemist, arborist, environmentalist, carpenter, critter doctor, entomologist, plumber, electrician, machinist, manager, and probably a dozen other things I can't think of at this moment. So what does it make you? Very employable.

I come from that background. But I haven't farmed in decades. I don't have to, people find me.

I guess you could call me a tradesman. But I never have worked long enough at one trade to get bored with it. And my work is my love life.

I work with stubborn stuff all day long. I hate it. If women want to be just as obstinate, then let them.

Hey! Guess what. In my leisure time, I won't work that hard. If you think you're being more interesting, I can assure you that you're not. I'd be walking away wondering why I bothered to put any effort into you. Or, any woman that wants make it difficult for me.

Just 60K? Think 100K or better. Just being white collar isn't enough. Think upper management at least. Then, you simply must be driving an imported Salon, Like a BMW, or a Jag, Audi, Porsche.(Heaven forbid you own a Ford or Chevy) A year old or less. Absolutely no cavities. Teeth must be so white they glow in the dark. Wit so sharp you can shave with it. The humor of Bob Hope, Robin Williams,and Eddie Murphy, all rolled up in one. Impeccably dressed, constantly. And must be ready to travel at a moments notice.

Then you can be picky.

Two things happen when a tall person gets hit by a ceiling fan.

1. It hurts.
2. The ceiling fan gets bent.

You're talking to yourselves. She bailed.

Me, I don't care.

I know how to guard a nice set. My ex had them. Not many guys ever wanted to mess around with me anyway. Some guys had tossed a few cracks at my then wife, then I walked up. Seemed like they shut up fast. A few left. One I yanked out of a chair and gave him a toss. Darn! I wanted to break his head, but he ran for his life.

After 22 years of being woke up 5-6 times a night, YES, I do sleep alone.

I'm guessing any guy with prostate issues got better nights sleep than I did, for that 22 years.

Not a thing. I didn't even know there was a word like that, until just now.

I decided to not have kids when I was in my teens. I've never changed my mind.It wasn't that I had bad parents. I wasn't abused, or ignored. I was reasonably free to do what I wanted, and all they really wanted to know was where I was. If I was late, I called. They never forced me to do anything, I had my choice.

Why I chose to not have them, was that I didn't want him or her to go through what I did. I never talked nasty to anyone. But it seemed like they had chosen to be nasty with me. It didn't matter what sex they were. They just did. What kept me wondering, was what they had against me. I never talked to them, never associated with them, yet I got jumped on for no reason that I knew of.

I wouldn't want to be a kid now for love nor money. The world is a pretty rotten place, and I don't see it getting any better. What my parents may have assumed about me, they never asked, and I never gave out any information to them.

Now, I'm glad I learned to be self-reliant. Saved myself a lot of grief that way.

Run, do not walk to your local psychiatrist, and have your head examined. Perhaps you could be declared to be clinically insane.

I think you should hide under the bed.

Paul McCartney is still alive. I looked it up after I saw that post.

We finally got out of mask jail. I had some of the garden variety masks left over, so I started using them when sanding drywall compound, or spray painting.

Surprise!


After I'm done, I'm blowing both drywall dust, and atomized paint out of my nose. Both particles are much larger than the covid virus. Those everywhere sold disposable masks stop nothing. Of course, on the box, it stated that it didn't stop the virus. Their shield for being held libel.

I'm back to wearing my auto painters respirator. That I know works.

They're like potato chips. Just one is not enough.
(Says the owner of 5 Honda Gold Wings)

Agreed. We've seen media pick out bits and pieces, and mold them into a story that is totally false.
What needs to be done, is laws passed to penalize media for broadcasting false information. And not just a cash penalty. Loss of licence, even jail time should be put in place. We shouldn't be easy on these people. When they create panic in the public, they should be held accountable.

On my 53rd season. I don't qualify for being a retread, I never stopped riding.

My family is boring.

There. I let my big secret out.

I think you're being too generous.

It's a common gripe of not finding anyone real. You aren't alone.

Just for a minute, lets say you see something in my profile that interests you. So you shoot me a ten word response. I see it, see some possibility in replying. So I message you back. In a way you might not expect. One long message that took me at least an hour to compose. Would you expect that?

I've done that, a good many times. It's never gotten me anywhere in doing that. Its all an honest response from me. And not one person has responded in kind like that to me.

Which is one of the main reasons why I gave up on this mess. Nobody wants to put in some honest effort in O.L.D. dating.