NOTHING BUT THE GEORGE

  Things you can 100% depend on: Grabbing a buggy with a bad wheel at Wal-Mart. Reaching into the miniature Hershey’s candy bar bag thinking you will get a Hershey Bar but always get a Krackle.  4.3 seconds after sitting down you realize you need to get back up to go do whatever task that had gotten you out of your seat to begin with.  Whenever you say “please remind me the next time(insert whatever reminder you need here) you aren’t going to remember it nor will you be reminded-so write it down so you can say damnit I left my list on the table at home. The minute you are working on a project that requires both hands, your nose or ear will develop an intensive itch that has to be scratched immediately lest you go berserk.  Prolonged periods of laying off sweets will drive normal humans to such indescribable acts of lunacy and deceit just to get hospital jello. The tool you need is not the tool you have nor is it the tool thought you had. Go to Lowes and buy what you ...

If I Write a Book…  The first thing I should do is give it a good title. Over the years I have thought of and had suggested to me several good ones. “ I was born at a very young age”, or “George 101: a laymen’s guide to living with a perpetually kicked groin.” My book should include all my heroes and influences growing up, my love for baseball, and a bonus self-help section where I share my secrets and techniques in pursuit and capture of the opposite sex. By implementing and dispatching these techniques with great prejudice, I convinced Shugaluvs to marry me. It’s a gift, not unlike my propensity to use and even bask in four letter words. My ancestors not only invented the bad word they integrated it into the daily fabric and lifestyle of being a Fisher. Knowing when to turn it in and off is key, and If I wrote a book this would require many pages and possibly a how to video.  My old man said that the Fisher family raised hell the first half of their life and if they survived...

  Are These Seats Taken? Preface. With few exceptions,  I am normally compatible with old people. The exceptions are when it is old people day at the grocery store, where they cease being old  and start being evil, pillaging and running into and over innocent folks in order to get to the Entenmanns pastries.   Tonight we went to the Macon Bacon game. Shugaluvs and I have had season tickets since it’s inaugural season. We love it. It’s great baseball played in the greatest little ball yard you ever saw. Anyone that’s been around me for 5 minutes knows my love for the hallowed ground of Luther Williams Field.  Anyhow, Shugaluvs picked out our seats and we get the same ones each year. They’re not really our seats but they’re our seats, you know? We arrived, and did what we normally do- go through the food line, get our food and drink and head to section 205, Row B, seats 14 and 15. OUR SEATS.  As it happened, our seats, which really aren’t ours but which are s...

 George, along with his partner —Macons fabulous hound dog Satchel, starring in the transcribed adventures of the man with the action-packed home life –tonight’s episode: The Failing Fish Tank Matter The headlines might have read “Failing Fish Tank at Fish Food Farms causes Mr. Fisher to lose sleep with threat of being flattened by Mrs. Fisher and her tire tool..” It was bedtime for George. Or close enough until bedtime that I had become one with the recliner. Actually, it’s a love seat. Satchel and I love each other and we both anchor it down as much as Kirk and Spock anchor down the Bridge of the Enterprise.  Our nightly ritual, in fact, our only remaining task was to go out one last time to water the grass, if you know what I mean. Wifey Shugaluvs (SL) had been on the phone with the first born, which is all well and fine and SL normally accomplishes this from the Adirondack chair on the back porch because she knows that both television and conversation at the same time driv...

(My phone rings- it’s Shugaluvs) Me: (panicked because she’s calling me from upstairs and I’m in the basement)- “What’s wrong?!?” SL: “I need you to get the umbrella the wind got it and it’s flying thru the backyard-HURRY !” Me: “Where you at can’t you get it?!?” SL: “YOURE CLOSER!” (Call terminated).  Satchel, my trusty companion, upon seeing me high tail it for the basement door,  starts to bark.  The umbrella has released itself from its moorings. Full of wind and aided by gusts from 15-200 mph it has become a kite, dancing upon the footless halls of air with its staff slicing the air like a saber.  Looking for the right moment to tackle the umbrella and not get my head sliced off, I await until the umbrella is on its side and seize upon it, grabbing the staff as if it were a rattlesnakes head. I had not reckoned with the umbrella itself, nor the wind, as their combined efforts had me holding a chute which was now inside out. Attempts to correct this resulted in f...

 Preface: Noise above 70 dB over a prolonged period of time may start to damage your hearing. Loud noise above 120 dB can cause immediate harm to your ears We had our Easter gathering a day early today due to travel schedules, school, etc.  It was a loud, I mean, a large time.  It always is.  The shrill, I mean, the thrill of it all.  We had all our kids, grandkids, Wifeys siblings (7 total) nephews, a scattering of cousins, and a few folks that I’m not sure if I’m related to by blood or marriage. Let’s not forget 4 dogs, 3 cats, and a tankful of tropical fish. It was a bunch. A jovial, raucous, let’s see who can talk the loudest to be heard mess of kinfolks.  It always is.  It is 75 trips up and down the steps, 8 bags of trash, who knows how many rolls of toilet paper and a ‘move your feet lose your seat don’t matter if the music stops or not’ environment not for the weak or feint of heart.  It always is.  The Union of Robert and Rosemary Pr...

  Failing to Flail July 25, 2021  I came out for a walk around to stretch, leaving the sanctity of the huge fans (appropriately named Big Ass Fans). I was swarmed by gnats and or no see ums who explored all of my entrances and exits and I believe maybe created a couple more. I blew. I swatted. I repeated the process faster and faster until I flailed. I flailed like the flailers of Flairsville. I was one of those advertising innertube flailers they place out in front of pawn shops.  It was torment.  Not exactly hell but you could flail it from here. There’s an old saying my Old man used to say all the time that goes “I didn’t know whether to scratch my ass or wind my watch..” Now I know EXACTLY what that means.  By the way, the Bacon are getting their butts beat 17-1 after 5.