Thursday, August 31, 2017

Odds Blog In A Fog!

Odds can blog themselves they say. They may be me today at my bay. We shall skip the me they thing as it is time for the odds to spring. Maybe with a bad Friday the odds may run away.


Is Friday here?
It's almost near.
What if it's not?
Odds sink with this plot.

If Friday is skipped.
Posting may be tripped.
No good weekend mention.
She goes into blog detention.

Bah, she travels too.
Odds sink on cue.
Grandkids as well.
Oh no, not swell.

Little germs machines.
Could stop all screens.
Making her sick.
No posts to click.

Cats at play.
More than our bay.
What do you know, 
Attention on the go.

Too much attention.
Back in blog detention.
How can that be?
Maybe they should write like me.

But movies galore,
Are sure still in store.
So then comes the review.
A trailer may show too.

The odds go up.
She fills her cup.
But then the weekend is taxing.
No time for relaxing.

The odds sink.
Drives one to drink.
Weren't you doing that anyway?
That is sure a weird thing to say.

Fun pics all aglow.
They put on a Wednesday show.
So odds for once a week,
Are still given a peek.

Odds = Happy Weekend
Must Be Some Friday Trend

Waiting for Friday at your sea? Do you start on Monday as it comes to be? Review movies too? Was the weekend taxing for you? Any germ machines near? They can be hard on each ear. At least on Friday all these questions didn't come to pass. No need to thank my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Caption The Odds With Some Gods!

Xerxes sure has had many a fling and he had many a ring. All stabbed and golden. A sight to beholden. Captioned and storied. Told in all his gloried. Along with old Trump. Odds are one is more of a chump.


Xerxes is dead.
So there's no dread.
Unless he's a vengeful spirit,
Then odds may fear it.

Others though,
You never know.
Captioned at will.
Fitting the Bill.

Hey, all can fit in Bill.
He just wants a thrill.
But odds go down,
If he comes to town.

Bush may send out a hit,
For all Al's caption shit.
Of maybe Fifty Shades of Smut,
Will force all to his hut.

After all, no pics came due.
They may blame him too.
Or some regular Joe.
You never know.

He loves his underwear pic.
Those guys may not think it slick.
Unlike Richard Simmons cheering.
I'm sure of him there is no fearing.

But camping comes due.
Odds go into the blue.
Or would that be red?
Who cares when the forest is your bed.

Animals galore.
Some even roar.
Some even eat.
Tough or sweet?

Or just a hillbilly.
Going all willy nilly.
Deliverance comes to mind.
Odds are so unkind.

Maybe he catches disease.
Doesn't even need to say please.
Schools hand them out like candy.
Better keep some Lysol handy.

Odds = Closed Captioned For The Blogging Impaired
Hmm, I Guess The Captions Made The Odds Scared

Do you caption photos too? Are you a captain at it at your zoo? Hopefully you avoid hillbillies and bears whenever camping. At least Al has a sidewalk loo so through the wilderness he won't have to go tramping. Xerxes may throw a fit. He was only mentioned for a bit. The cat better watch out for his vengeful sass. His piercing fetish may blind my little rhyming ass,

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Furry Odds At Play Here Today!

More fur is flying as the odds start applying. The fur may make some sneeze as it gets picked up by the breeze. I can wait while you pop a pill. Okay, ready for odds to fit the bill.


Odds are stuck.
Won't board a truck.
Won't board a boat.
Won't even jump a goat.

Calm down hillbillies.
Put back the willies.
This wasn't gutter.
No need to stutter.

Wait, he's spam.
Wordpress toe jam.
They don't like him,
Commenting on a whim.

But the post is still there.
Odds to spare.
Each and every day.
There at his bay.

Cats galore.
Selfies in store.
Some outside the door.
Scary neighbors of lore.

Hmm, odds may go down,
With scary neighbors in town.
If they dig in the back yard,
Odds may fall hard.

Toys at play.
Can't join the fray.
May get a smack.
Sisters are mean at his shack.

Odds stay up though,
As they too show.
So many against one.
That must be fun,

But then there's the hack.
They go on the attack.
That is just rude.
Cat hair to choke on for the hacker dude.

Maybe a convention,
Could get a mention.
Travel lowers the odds.
But only by a few nods.

Odds = Depends On The Sister
Better Keep It In Line, Mister

Have more opposite siblings at your sea? Thankfully it is just Cassie for me. She still tries to be the boss though. I let her think that so she doesn't become a foe. Go to any conventions lately near your hall? Some even throw a dog a ball. Would that be bone? Bah, screwed with the rhyming tone. Posts at Brian's Home every day come to pass. So him still being around is a safe bet to place with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Monday, August 28, 2017

Odds Have A Say Come What May!

Everything sure likes to have a say. Some are sure weird when their say is at play. Weird can be fun unless weird is a scary one. These odds have a saying though that is not such an odd show.


Odds are in.
They are a sin.
Almost as bad as snow.
Not quite there though.

She likes 110 degree heat.
Even thinks mowing the lawn is sweet.
Did she fall and hit her head?
Maybe when she rolled out of bed?

Odds are she'll survive.
No heat stroke at her hive.
If you like it you must.
In such heat you trust.

But they may sink,
After she gets a drink.
Why is that?
A farmer may lose their hat.

Farmer's almanac may lie.
Could piss off some girl or guy.
So could get a farmer stalker.
Or maybe just a stern talker.

Or could be a nut,
With brains in their butt.
Your almanac lied to me.
Now I will get thee.

Wow, such people may need heat stroke.
Or just a good smack or poke.
But odds are they are out there.
Better watch out at her predicting lair.

The heat may never make her faint.
But she may have to paint.
Have to help the hubby out,
With no time to shout.

Blogging goes down.
Odds now frown.
Plus there is family time.
Odds now aren't sublime.

She goes to conventions too.
At least a few.
We know the odds there.
Travel takes on a whole new fare.

Odds = Too Soon To Predict
Those Almanacs Are Strict

Read the farmers almanac at your sea? Can be fun to see what comes to be. Enjoy the 110 degree heat? Bah, that sure isn't sweet. All that sweat sure isn't for me. Right up there with snow at my sea. But at least there is AC. A lot easier than some shoveling spree. I predict her posts will still come to pass. Although I could be a wrong little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Now We're Talking With Odds A Gawking!

Maybe you can gawk at the odds. They could be on paper attached to fishing rods. Maybe I'm fishing to make that work. Isn't being crazy a perk? Gawking can be too. But never ever is using one hand to wipe your poo.

WaystationOne
Odds Make Me Run
(link dead. oh the dread.)

The Gawker is back.
Again...again...again...at his shack?
Is he though?
The odds are low.

He goes everywhere.
Places that are rare.
Even sleeps in a back alley room.
Odds are that can lead to doom.

Like wiping your butt with your hand.
Blah, that is so not grand.
We'd run far far away from that land.
Or at least take plenty a tp strand.

Plus he's gawking.
That doesn't take talking.
Just large eyeballs.
No posting on walls.

May catch some long named disease.
That is worse than fleas.
His odds aren't gawking well.
Again they just fell.

Could take a nerf bullet to the eye.
Oh me, oh my.
Half blind would stink.
Wonder if the eye would still blink.

A half blinker.
Be quite the thinker.
A half gawk.
Now he can talk.

Could have an enemy arise.
Go after him in disguise.
He repoed their car,
A long time ago at his sand bar.

Or maybe a comment nut.
In a comment rut.
Post on my whine of the day.
Come on, Gawker, do it I say.

You didn't? How rude.
Here's more than attitude.
More of my whining thinking.
Odds are sure sinking.

Odds = Gawk Later
I Think They Fell Into A Crater 

Ever go to a place with no tp? Ever have to use your hand at your sea? Blah to that in every way. Got any whiners at your bay? Comment back on their daily whine? Yeah, pfft to that says the feline. Hopefully no repoing comes due. The Gawker and Betsy are both sneaky with it at their zoo. The cat warned you should it come to pass. Don't say nothing is done for you by my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Sure Isn't Any With Odds Of The Many!

When you have a lot is it cheating? Odds may never be depleting. A lot to say here at my bay. So my odds go up like a frisky pup. When lots to view the odds sure go up too.


So many to play.
Odds may go astray.
With cats by the ton,
And donkeys to run.

Wow, odds just shake.
They do a triple take.
They are just here.
Easy and clear.

Cats on the bed.
Easy day at club med.
Cats in a tree.
Easy post to see.

Cats in the barn.
Can spin a yarn.
Cats in the grass.
A post comes to pass.

Donkey a rolling.
A post comes a strolling.
Donkey at play.
A post on display.

Donkeys and cats.
Chew no fats.
Double the post.
Odds high at this coast.

The camera gets eaten.
Odds may be beaten.
The cats all hide.
Odds take a ride.

Whoops, there's another cat,
Sitting on the welcome mat.
Another on the car.
Odds sure don't shrink far.

Internet goes out.
Odds may pout.
Computer goes bust.
Odds may rust.

But it gets fixed.
Odds are nixed.
A post on display.
Cat of the day.

Odds = Highly Catty
All That Fur Must Drive One Batty

Got cats every which way at your sea? How about a donkey or three? Hey, you might have a Donkey Kong game. So that can still be a maybe, sorta, yes to that claim. The cat is rather mean to other cats though. So we'd howl near her show. But with so many cats in mass, Marg will keep on a posting as long as my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Friday, August 25, 2017

Odds Make A Splash In A Flash!

Can something that isn't a thing make a splash at any wing? How would that work? Imaginary thing meet imaginary water for a splashing perk? The cat sure went on there. Odds are I always will at my lair.


Words are splashing.
Dine and dashing.
Can words dine?
So confusing to the feline.

Odds are good,
There at her hood.
Although she does drive,
Way away from her hive.

Yuck to that commute.
I'd give it the boot.
Then we'd go broke.
Maybe more of a poke?

Oh, she gave a review.
A good one too.
Oh, there's a bad.
Odds drop at her pad.

She gets tracked down.
Author is from crazy town.
They demand she retract.
Then they surely act.

Act what, who knows.
But odds go to new lows.
Then they may spring back,
As she lives vicariously at her shack.

Pics from others shown.
Maybe even uses a drone.
That is a good way to be.
No travel death spree.

Look, another review.
One for a movie came due.
It is a good one as well.
Damn, some critic raised hell.

How can she think that?
Drones on like a gnat.
Then she runs away.
Stalker critic won't let her play.

Isn't online fun?
Stalker and nuts by the ton.
Odds sure are slimming.
The lights may be dimming.

Odds = In Need Of Review
At Least They Aren't In The Loo

Do you review? Got a nut after you? Even if a review is good a nut may come after you at your hood. Don't you love the crazy internet nut cases? They usually won't even show their faces. Odds are she'll still be a blogging lass as I'm sure she can ignore any nuts like I do with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Thursday, August 24, 2017

The Odds Fly For Old One Eye!

The cat knows this will be low. That one eye sure makes it so. Pitch forks are at the ready. But we will see if the odds remain steady. Get your bets in. This one is a sure fire win


The odds go high.
High for old one eye.
High to low.
We just don't know.

First she can scare.
No eyes by the pair.
Just that one in the middle.
So scary makes little kids piddle.

The pitch forks come out.
The townsfolk scream and shout.
They want her dead.
Odds sure aren't fed.

Then there's the beach.
She has one in reach.
We know the odds sink there.
So that one isn't rare.

Next it's the stairs.
She climbs by the pairs.
That many and she may trip.
Whammo, goes down with a back flip.

Then she may work.
That is a perk.
A perk with the money.
Posts may not show all sunny.

Oh right, that one.
Can't forget such fun.
She whines every day.
Oh the dismay.

The odds are in pain.
Here comes the migraine.
Down they sure sink.
I can't even think.

Took a few steps.
Checked out some reps.
Migraine be gone.
A cyclops is on your lawn.

Wow, she could get fame.
Old One Eye the scary dame.
Scare your migraines away.
Odds are she'll get pay.

Odds = Giving Me A Migraine
Cyclops Odds Are Just A Pain

Ever see a cyclops at your zoo? Old one eye sure has a one eyed view. Hey, she can't fool the cat. We saw her one eyed pic way back at her blog mat. Like to climb stairs too? She sure climbs a few. Step by step she goes with some sand on her toes. I hope she didn't make any kids piddle in sand. That sure wouldn't be grand. Has a migraine come to pass? I can be such an annoying little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

A Sliver Of Odds In Silver Pods!

Before we begin today's post looky, Fox will love looky, what we won at our coast.


And if you want to give the next one a go, hop on over to WEP's show.

Now back to our regularly scheduled post as we go all looky at Fox's coast.

**************************

See what I did there? The old switcheroo at my lair. Blogger even says switcheroo is not a word. Isn't that absurd? Maybe Grammar Nazi will agree. I guess with these odds we may see.


Odds aren't slim.
They may be trim.
Out of a limb.
But they aren't slim.

For comics abound.
Litter the ground.
Or maybe a box.
Maybe behind locks?

That may be bad.
Lowers odds a tad.
A thief breaks in to steal.
A rather messy ordeal.

His internet goes.
The library has woes.
No way to speak.
Odds up the creek.

No one dies.
Good that no one cries.
But no post to be had.
RIP posts litter his pad.

He sees it all.
Throne up on my wall.
There very annoying.
Grammar Nazi skills deploying.

But I'm not threw.
That you new.
Odds may be sinking.
The bad grammar is winking.  

He goes on a spiel,
About the whole ordeal.
The odds go up.
I filled his annoyance cup.

Then again he may stammer.
Just curse all the bad grammar.
He cries foul.
Throws in the towel. 

Hmm odds either way.
That's new today.
Depends odds is weird.
Diapers are to be feared.

Odds = Check The Grammar
Don't Want Him To Bring Down The Hammer

A grammar nazi at your sea? That is a fun thing to be. Or umm maybe not. Depends on the plot. Maybe no one will die and no one will cry. Whoops, as I post that people did. Guess those odds we can get rid. More bad grammar from me. Silver Fox may flee. Could trip on his boxes of stuff in mass. Then he may really curse my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

What The Hell, Odds Can't Spell!

A grammar nazi's delight. Or maybe a fright. The odds are sure fickle this time. I can't even tell if they rhyme. Well the cat can with ease. Humans may not find it such a breeze.


Theese odds izz strange.
Strangee like with range.
Not sure on it though.
May be off at my show.

Tabbies sayz when.
When times ten.
Boy, thiss is ruff
Speaking this stuff.

Wezz find it hard.
Like finding the card.
Peicking out thee right one.
Sure can be tough to be done.

Back to the oddzz.
Like those yummy codzz.
Not those burd guys.
You know, the thing that flies.

Unless penguin man.
They may be a fan. 
Burds attacking lowers odds.
They go back to cods.

Litter art is a winner.
Be sure and eataz dinner.
But odds could goes downe.
If fame came to trout towne.

No blog posts to see.
Instead an artz gallerie spree.
Showing at nine.
The lives of the feline.

May also get eaten.
Those ancestors can't bes beaten.
But they look hungry as canz be.
Don't mess with them at their sea.

Burds are back.
What'z the flack?
Burds and deer.
Oh my, stand clear.

Odds of deer.
Squirrels in the clear.
Rabbits nearby.
Odds mays lie.

Odds = Maybe A Burd Knows
Just Look At Those Grammar Blows 

Can you decipher their bad grammar speak? We can at our creek. Can't type it like they do though. That we sure know. Got critters in your yard? Are they making you a cranky bard? Are penguins a better burd? Or are they just as absurd? I guess I'll go eat a bass and think on that with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Monday, August 21, 2017

Odds In Beer Are Coming Near!

That would be rather bad. Betting while drunk may make you mad. When you wake up hung over and broke. That's enough to make anyone choke. But you could win. Also choking on the dough at your bin.


Why even try?
Odds sure are high.
They'll so be here.
That is so clear.

Beer in a shower,
Hour by hour.
Whoops, fall and hit head.
Blog is now dead.

Camping in the woods.
Sure beats the hoods.
Eaten by a bear.
No more blogging at their lair.

Fat shaming at play.
Oh the dismay.
A fat person flattened each.
No blogging in reach.

Going for a third.
A new agent who's a turd.
Except they are a killer too.
No new blogs in view.

At a book retreat.
Both left in defeat.
Basic Instinct remake.
New posts at stake.

Entered a cave.
Thought it was a rave.
Damn, it's a bear.
Not the kind with hair.

Pissed off gun nuts,
That are in gun ruts.
That never ends good.
These odds aren't understood.

An idiot takes offense.
They are far too dense.
So they really take a fence.
Odds go up a few cents.

The football heads stage a comeback.
They want to cause flack.
Each can't decide which to show.
Boy, these odds just may be low.

Odds = Go Get A Beer
You Have Something To Fear 

Ever get chased by a bear? Is camping a fun thing to do at your lair? Beer in the shower may not be a good idea if drunk as a skunk. Then you may go kerplunk. Odds sure did a flip flop from the start. Maybe there is some kind of plot. Watch those gun nuts when it comes to sass. They may gather in mass and pass more than gas. They'll never catch my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Odds Of Five Take A Dive!

Numbers sure show and can sure grow. Sometimes that is good, like money in your hood. Sometimes that is bad, like bills at your pad. A flip flop of cash. But we aren't delving into that bash.


Betsy is here.
A post shall be near.
But odds say maybe not.
Hmm what's with that plot?

Her tongue went numb.
Ate a Raid sprayed plum.
Now that was silly.
Then all went chilly.

Her insides went numb too.
What was she to do?
Raid it away.
Whoops, no post today.

Her computer caught fleas.
They swung from the trees.
In with the breeze.
Warm computer, yes please.

The cats ate her cord.
They were just bored.
Needed a cordly snack.
Attacked by the pack.

Her five men became six.
That put in quite the nix.
Blog title doesn't work anymore.
How? Beats me at my shore.

She's good at surviving,
Taking pics while driving.
But whoops, caught by a cop.
A jail house rock bid making blogging a flop.

Crazy auction attack.
News at 11 won't lack.
Barbie man wanted what she did.
But she won the bid.

I didn't end well.
That the odds tell.
Oh, it's crazy neighbor guy.
He continues to spy.

His tightey whities catch fire.
The flames go higher.
Her house catches on fire.
Odds sure now expire.

Odds = Quite Numb
And Really Then Some

Ever have a crazy auction attack? Maybe fleas by the pack? Those things are annoying as can be. Blood suckers can stay off me. How do five men become six? Hmm magic tricks? We won't even go there. Maybe she has hidden away a spare. Whoops, that just came to pass. I could not help my odd little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Saturday, August 19, 2017

The Kitchen Odds With Pea Pods!

The cat will chow down on anything at all. Including tacks at our hall. Hey, it was there to chew. Cassie tried one too. Pat made me spit it out though. Now I just eat things that make me go.


Glory Dear is back.
In cooking she doesn't lack.
She takes pics of stuff too.
Cooks up a storm at her zoo.

Odds are swell.
Hear that bell?
A new order is up.
Can go fill your cup.

Can fill your plate too.
That is easy to do.
Something for all.
Shines on her wall.

Dairy is still scary.
But I can eat a berry.
No mutt will get ahead of me.
The cat shall eat with glee.

Oh no, a hairball.
I splattered it on the wall.
I took a pic of it.
Scared more than a bit.

Odds down thanks to me?
How can that be?
It was just a hairball,
Right here on my wall.

She's poisoning all?
How dare her at her hall.
Those recipes are fake?
No one can even partake?

That is just rude.
Tried to poison this dude.
Her odds sink.
Sink in a blink.

Her camera broke?
Can't show but can choke.
That was the cause of it.
She went crazy with a no pic fit.

Odds are really sinking.
Cooking and thinking.
Can odds cook?
It's poison, don't look!

Odds = Cooked
A Post Shall Be Booked

Did you know Gloria was trying to poison us all? Good thing the cat can have a hairball. But she is every so sly and won't get caught. So I'm sure a new post will be added to her plot. Is dairy scary to you? Not really scary to us but blah at our zoo. Get an enemy to be a food tester with that Glory Dear lass. She'll never get my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Friday, August 18, 2017

Odds At Play In Some Dream Bay!

Dreams are grand. Go for them in your land. Except maybe the weird ones. They can be scary by the tons. Some may come true, some may need a new view. But have to keep on a going. Enjoy the nightly dream showing.


Odds are out.
Or maybe they're in.
What's that about?
Let's take them for a spin.

They go low.
She walks a nature trail.
Fast or slow,
That could fail.

Eaten by a bear.
Ouch, and then some.
Catch a psycho's stare.
Who needs that chum?

Then there's the beach.
There she goes.
A giant litter box in reach,
More than sand on the toes.

Catch something germy.
Or get lost in the ocean.
Either makes one squirmy,
Causing quite the commotion.

Lost at sea.
Could be grand.
An island for thee.
Treasure at hand.

Saved and rich.
Can blog all day.
Well worth the twitch.
Odds go the other way.

Whoops, all a dream.
That has to suck.
Wait, still in the stream?
What the umm fluck?

Lost in a dream.
Lost in a mind.
Quite the lost team.
No blogging of any kind.

Wow, odds sunk.
There they go.
On that treasure they clunk.
That was a dream? Oh!

Odds = Keep Dreaming
I Guess They Aren't Beaming

Can you get stuck in a dream? Would they call that some kind of coma stream? Hey, at least there you can be rich with treasure. That has to give one some pleasure. Maybe dream up a post. It could happen at one's coast. Beats get eaten by a bear though. That much I do know. I'll feed the bear the singing bass. He can choke on that instead of my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Odds Of Creation Get A Notation!

Isn't it fun to create? Can be anything that takes the bait. From words to cards to weird plants in yards. All can sure be done. Go for it as long as you find it fun. Don't go for it you are a mime. Fake things is just a crime.


Odds are slim.
Slim and prim.
Prim and proper?
Bah, call a grammar copper.

See? Created?
Is it dated?
That it may be.
Like cards to see.

Christmas ones.
She's got tons.
Birthday ones.
Even for nuns.

Up and up.
Fills her cup.
There is no stopping,
The card cropping.

Made and waiting.
Even after dating.
A new post to show.
Odds sure aren't low.

Movies of old.
There to take hold.
Movies of new.
There are a few.

High are the odds.
Dangling on fishing rods.
Not sinking in the lake.
No need for a double take.

Wait! A paper cut,
There at her hut.
Her finger can't linger.
She may lose the finger.

Ah, now it's the hand.
Odds sure aren't grand.
Wow, the arm too?
What a paper cut can do.

Hey diddle diddle.
Odds are a riddle.
Maybe stuck in the middle.
With no fingers to twiddle.

Odds = Flip Card Open To See
Two Flipping Arms Will Make Them Higher For Thee

Wow, she may need a card after that paper cut. A get well one would do at her hut. Must have been some bacteria filled paper. Maybe it was really an attempted murder caper? The paper cut serial killer. Could be the next thriller. Do you create at your sea? I'm sure some things come to be. Thankfully most paper cuts just get sass from my ever so sassy little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

An Odd List That Can't Be Missed!

Lists help here and there and they can be used everywhere. Some write them down each day. Pfffft to that I say. I'll keep them in my head. Saves time and doesn't cause trees dread.


Ten Odds For And Against Blabber. Like A Mime May Stab Her!

1. A deadly disease is caught in her mind. Fake diseases really put her in a bind.
So she runs far far away thinking blogger gave her a disease today.
 I hear they make pills for that. You can trust the cat.

2. A bird pecks her eyes out and she gives a hideous shout.
The shouting scares more birds and they eat her turning her to turds.
That would lower her odds of a new post display by the way.

3. She gets a job that requires more hours in some big NY towers.
Then she worries about the building fall over or tramping in the poop of rover.
Back to the birds she'd go and the crap thing, you know.

4. She goes on vacation and the plane goes boom. Oh the doom.
Fear of flying isn't bad. Saves money at ones pad.
Boom = lower odds as well as one rings their last bell.

5. A list pisses off some stalker fan. They throw her in the back of a van.
Wait, isn't her van still in another place? Oh that was another person's parking space.
Where are the higher odds? Not many to give nods.

6. She takes a "break" again there at her den.
May need to seek out the definition of break should she do a double take.
Probably thinks a robbery is about to occur. That won't make her purr.

7. She starts a new blog then goes back to the old time log.
But take her time in between before skipping back to her old scene.
The cat can recall. Odds are I remember all.

8. She hits it big. Runs away and dances a jig.
The odds go way down as she's from short town.
Yeah, she hit a big fat guy. Splat she goes on the first try.

9. She comes up short and files a short report.
Ideas are in short supply. On short notice away she did fly.
Notice my short retort? Sure didn't come up short.

10. She gets lost an in outhouse museum because to her it's like a coliseum. 
Hopefully not lost down a hole. That would be a nasty goal.
Odds are arriving in and it sure isn't a win.

Odds = Panic Attack
Still Stuck On The Disease Way Back

Ever have a fake disease? Did birds come after you like the breeze? Can a breeze come after you? Are you a blog "break" person at your zoo? Like break for a year. Does an outhouse museum cause you fear? Isn't that a great list? Sure one not to be missed. Now I'll watch the panic attack of that LMF...Jax...excuse me...Jaclyn lass. It is so amusing to my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Oddly Blue Shining Through!

The odds are blue today. I guess they change color at my bay. Beats red I suppose. He'd cut off your rump and your toes. That pointy stick is mean. Odds are I will now get on with it at my scene.


The odds are blue.
The odds are red.
Both are true,
As he snores in bed.

Whoops, on the couch.
That's just mean.
Must make him a grouch.
Snoring loud enough to rupture a spleen.

Odds go down low,
With a blown up spleen.
But that you know.
Basic anatomy at one's scene. 

Then there are humpers.
They may get payback.
Those crazy wall bumpers,
Like a rocking shack.

Blue fixed their wailing.
They want to keep rockin.
So the wall may be failing,
And they may get Blue if he goes a knockin.

Skinny jeans nuts,
May come a showing.
With their tight butts,
After his showing.

Skinny jean killers.
They hate his hate.
So forget the fillers,
The give him a skinny jean fate.

Bora Bora could come to be.
He may travel across the sea.
Tramp in the waste left by me,
And never come back to see.

School may be in.
Over worked and under paid.
That sure isn't a win,
So blogging may fade.

Whoops, there is a remake.
It's Jaws the reboot.
A post he'll have to bake,
As another movie goes in the trash chute.

Odds = Highly Blue
Remakes, Reboots and Redos In View

Blue shall still be around, unless killer snoring is found. Then he may go to jail for snoring spleen blasting. The movie is already casting. Been to Bora Bora at your sea? Have you tramped in cat pee? Ready for Jaws the remake? Wouldn't doubt it will get a triple take. Are you a skinny jean nut stuck in a skinny jean rut? The cat will now go roll in the green grass, adding another color today to my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Monday, August 14, 2017

WEP Times Two...Or Three At My Sea!

The cat is breaking the odds today. I guess I have too much to say. Odds are that will always come due as humans rarely ever get a clue. Plenty of ammo is at hand. Right. On with it at my land.

First we have a new release. Pat once again made the rhyming cease. How rude is that? But why are we showing it today at our mat? Because it was started by April's WEP post. And off it went at our coast. But I'll fix Pat. Hold on, we'll get to that.



Martin and Emma had survived much in life to get the family that they always wanted. But when a snowstorm delivers a young, abused boy into their life they realize further the gift bestowed upon them and begin the fight to give the same chance to him. Soon they discover a secret lurking in Hunts Bay that goes further than abuse and puts their entire family at risk.

Determined to keep the boy from harm, they now must unravel the secrets of his past before his past destroys their family. As threats close in, the pair quickly find themselves doing acts they would never have fathomed to keep him safe, their kids safe and escape the growing threat with their lives.



----------------------------------------

And now on with another show. Or should I say flow? Yeah, the cat is going to play too. Rhyming has to come due. Is doubling up cheating? Bah, we'll Yolanda and Denise deal with that at their next meeting.



Gods And Mods

Cassie and I were fast asleep. It is a way of life at our keep. That didn't last long though, mainly due to a familiar foe. I guess frienemy would be a better fit. Either way, once again we had to deal with his shit.

"Drazin wanted to go home, not end up with you fleabags."

"Thy demon better watch his trap." Pat threatened him with a spoon. Yeah, he was once again a loon.

"What do you want this time, godly mook?" Cassie yawned and tried to ignore. She found dealing with that bald headed buffoon a chore.

"Drazin didn't want this. Drazin wants to...Just great." Drazin rolled his eyes as we heard more cries.

The room then started to spin and it was time for another battle that we had to win.

"Bryan, what do you call an alphabet with no R?"

"Messed up?"

"Nope. Alphawrong."

"Is it just Drazin or were those two better when they had football heads?" Drazin curled his nose up at the beer guys while bloggers surrounded us like flies.

Did I mention a giant R floated above us too? R really needs to get a clue.

"Great meeting. Great post. Great reunion. Great post. Great death. Great post." R repeated that a lot as he floated in one spot.

Then all around us past foes started to appear. Zombie Betsy even cackled in my ear. The humans all strayed away from Silver Fox though. They remembered his snip snip the human show.

"Thy demon has really done it this time." Pat threw his spoon at R. That didn't get us very far.

"Don't look at Drazin. Drazin had nothing to do with this crap."

"It was me. Now give me my shoe while I wipe the land of repeats!" Blue Guy appeared above us all. I think someone stretched him and made him rather tall.

"So he tries to stop repeats by making everything come back and repeat themselves. Pffft what an idiot." Cassie swatted The Gawker away. Him and that eyeball sticking out of the top of his head was still a scary display.

"Damn it. My mod failed. Stupid Amazon seller sent me the wrong package." Blue Guy jumped up and down. He was like a child throwing a tantrum in crazy town.

"And there are those crazy nuts." Drazin eyed Truedessa and Blabber as they appeared. Actually, I think his red glowing eyes more like peered.

"I didn't get my shampoo!"

"Look at that sky." Truedessa twirled around, making an aww kinda sound.

"I think she got too much air on that mountain. Or maybe drank from a funky fountain." I couldn't help that one. It just slipped out before I began to run.

"All right, fleabags. Drazin is going to end this crap before Drazin gets stuck with that whiny one-eyed creep and that Irish nut again. Let's go."

"Thy demon is right. Let's take out the germ ridden blue man."

"I want my shoe, damn it." Blue Guy waved his arm and all wanted to cause us harm.

"Godly mook, handle them, we've got the shoe nut." Cassie nodded to me and off we did flee.

"What about your crazy human?"

"Use him as bait. At that he's first rate." I got a glare from Pat. He may have not liked that.

Blue Guy tried to run away while Drazin fought off any who got in his way. He used Pat as a shield a time or two. He may have even swung him around like a stick, too.

"Back, cats. Back I say!"

"Does he think we're dogs?" Cassie rolled her eyes at him while I slunk behind his shoe-less limb.

"See ya later, Blue. At least I didn't poo." I snickered as Blue Guy slipped on my puddle of pee and Cassie batted his machine free.

"See? I need my shoe. This is so eww for Blue."

"My turn." Pat grabbed a beer bottle from one of the beer guys and smashed it after three tries. He shoved the glass into Blue's machine and poof went the entire scene.

"Damn you, Amazon sellers," Blue Guy muttered while he backed away. He really wasn't having a very good day.

Drazin picked up his sparking machine while Blue Guy continued to make a scene. He then tossed it at Blue Guy and after a little hippy shake, Blue Guy vaporized like kids do to cake.

"Until next time Drazin has to deal with you and your crazy human, fleabags." Drazin went back to Plumtoad and we all soon returned to every day mode.

That means Pat went to cleaning our shit and we rested for more than a bit. I may have even relieved myself in Blue Guy's shoe. But he's not supposed to know I have it, so that's between me and you.

Word Count: 807

There we go. All done with today's flow. Wasn't that rather long? Bah, shorter than a trip to Hong Kong. Lots to take in today. There is even another story at Pat's other blogging bay. So I guess that would make three. Beats little old me. Odds are we'll be back to odds soon, so don't expect long arse posts from this loon. But so many questions still come due. Did Blue go to another planet at his zoo? Did Zombie Betsy really die once more? Did Truedessa get too much mountain air at her shore? Did the beer guys go lame? Does an R really want to maim? I even got a long question mass. Okay, after all that work, off I go to nap my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Odds Are Benched But Not Monkey Wrenched!

Why would a monkey have a wrench? Would it play with it on a bench? Would you call that monkeying around? Would it be dogging around if it were a wrench carrying hound? I guess you'll need to see that view from a bench at your zoo.


Betty's on the bench.
Not a stinky trench.
Unless a bench is by a trench.
Then she may be on that bench.

Wow, could get washed away.
Straight into a stinky bay.
That takes the odds down.
Who knew benches could make one drown?

She finds a new bench.
Here comes a psycho with a wrench.
She stole his bench spot.
Wowweee, odds go down a lot.

The bench may break.
Toppled over in a lake.
Maybe rolled down a hill.
Benches really can kill.

Then it could be worse.
What's worse than a psycho curse?
Could get a splinter in your ass.
Benches can have those in mass.

Of course you'd have to have no clothes.
Or sucky fabric that falls off when the wind blows.
Hmm, odds are low on that.
So that ups the odds from the cat.

But she's a peeper.
Not in the way of a creeper.
At least the cat hopes not.
That would drop the odds a lot.

Instead they drop a bit.
She thinks the neighbors are a hit.
Peeping as they come and go.
They may not like that though.

Psycho neighbors take revenge.
News at 11 from Stonehenge.
Or would that be from Arizona?
Heck, it's not from Daytona.

Neighbors have rallied.
The odds are tallied.
Can see them from a bench.
They are even translated to French.

Odds = Highly Benched
But No Splinters Leaving Butts Clenched

Ever get a splinter in your ass? Now how did that come to pass? The cat may not want to know. Any good benches at your show? Betty will be around still I bet. I'm usually a right pet. Posts may get benched though if her neighbors catch on to her peeping show. Hey, the cat won't tell and raise any hell. I can't say the same for that singing bass. He is more of a blabber mouth than my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Odds Are Rosey So Be Nosey!

Can something be rosey when it is not a rose? Or you know, named Rosey by friends or foes. Humans just have a weird way of describing things I guess. Anyway, will the odds be more or less?


These odds are easy.
May even smell cheesy.
She could have such a contest.
Isn't cheese the best?

Nah, we think not.
A mousey type plot.
That cat isn't a mouse.
Kick them from our house.

But Rosey contests all.
Meaning contests have a ball.
May even give you a ball.
Hell, she runs them all.

Except maybe R rated.
Family friendly is only slated.
That saves her from the creepy crew.
Odds go up at her zoo.

But those mommy bloggers may not win.
Now that is a real sin.
They may hold it against her.
Death threats may spur.

Hey, mommy bloggers can be mean.
Watch out when they lose at her scene.
Death by psycho mommy blogger.
Be a better ending than becoming a logger.

Get the reference there?
Odds are down at her lair.
Plus she travels and does reviews.
Now that could make the news.

Give a bad review.
Uh oh, psycho comes due.
The owner is at her door.
Bad reviews no more.

She went to the beach.
Giant litter box in reach.
Oops, there was a mark.
She got eaten by a shark.

Odds aren't looking good.
She may never post again in her hood.
Sharks and psychos galore.
Maybe a casket contest should be run at her shore?

Odds = 666
Too Many Crazies In The Mix

What was that? The odds were rigged by the cat? Rosey hates 666 coming due? Whoops, I was caught by you. Ever have a review nut come after you? Get eaten by a shark at your zoo? Piss off a mommy blogger yet? Got in your bet? So many questions have come to pass. I'm sure Rosey will still be around to curse my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Friday, August 11, 2017

Wanna Buy Odds From Cods?

What? Odds doesn't rhyme with ducks and it felt like cheating using hockey pucks. Aren't the ducks all sold out? Yep, that's why I switched to trout. Cods, trout, same thing. All fish swimming in a fish poo filled spring.


Wanna Buy A Duck?
Well you are crap outta luck.
That blog went poof.
No posts in over a year is proof.

So zero odds on that.
Sorry, but those odds are flat.
Moving on to Belva Block.
No ducks, what a shock.

Got chickens though.
They sure can grow.
They may peck her eyes out.
Odds are lower with them about.

That was such a Blabber thing to say.
I feel ashamed at my bay.
Not really though.
But I'm sure that you know.

Knows how to heal.
Doesn't reinvent the wheel.
But that could backfire.
She may not replace an old tire.

Pop it could go.
Then you never know.
Driving into a ditch,
Would sure be a bitch.

Odds are I spun that silly.
But it's all willy nilly.
You should know that too.
Taking odds on it at my zoo.

She came back twice.
Isn't that nice?
Ducks and Blocks.
New digs, same docks.

Daily rhyme every day for...forever.
The cat is too lazy to count the comment endeavor.
But she's been here a very long time.
Always ready to drop a dime.

Odds of a new post?
Hmmm, 2 months as of now at her coast.
Those odds are pretty slim.
Especially with killer chickens making things grim.

Odds = Falling, Falling
The Deadly Eyeball Eating Chickens Are Calling

Did you know chickens were that scary? No wonder they aren't hairy. They get blood in their fur. That wouldn't make anyone purr. Considering she'll make triple digits at her sea, I'm sure she'll still be around and rhyming free. But watch those chickens and their peck. Ducks may come after her for ditching their selling trek. Birds sure are up in arms against that lass. She better hide under the bed like my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

A Number One Is Oddly Spun!

Who will get number one today? Will Hank get it for his display? Maybe Betty will have insomnia and go for the win. Is insomnia ever a win at any bin? Blue may know as he gives copy and paste a go.


Odds of number one.
They must be done.
The rest is easy to guess.
More or less.

No odds on that.
Not need to be a broke cat.
So those bets are out.
Taking bets on #1 about.

Will Hank sneak in,
With a 7 am spin?
Will Blue copy and paste,
Getting in post haste?

Will Betsy get up early?
Nah, that would make her squirrely.
So odds go up there.
Saying What Off will make her glare.

Will blogger crash?
Back in a flash.
Will I even post?
Hmm, guess so at my coast.

Odds are in.
Hank may win.
Wait, there's a toad.
It's in the road.

Hank had to stop.
Could be a flop.
One the road with a toad.
Can't go #1 mode.

But there's the phone.
Can enter at the tone.
A win times two.
#1...#1..came due.

Nah, no double the wager.
Blame the pager.
Do they even use those anymore?
Odds are they don't at many a shore.

Hank's internet may die.
Oh me, oh my.
The odds are creeping down.
Who will have the #1 crown?

Odds = Topped Up
Likely To Fill Your Cup

Are your bets in? Who will get the win? Hmm, you probably already know as this is read as a comment has been put to bed. Was number one you? Ever get stuck on the road thanks to a toad at your zoo? Maybe the toad couldn't hop because it had bad gas? Just a thought from my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

A Halloween Nut In An Odd Rut!

That title could be taken all wrong. But so can Donkey Kong. No butt crack or things to mate. Candy Kong must not find him much of a date. Wow, went off there. Back to the odds at my lair.


Halloween Nazi is here.
Odds are something to fear.
Since the cat outed her,
She's scared people right out of their fur.

Hey, some people are furry.
So hairy they make eyes blurry.
She scared them out of that.
Maybe they'll thank her where she's at.

But not everyone else out there.
They now know to beware.
The Halloween Nazi will scare.
She may pull out their hair.

She has spells.
Much like wishing wells.
Hey, let's pretend they work.
To her ego it's a perk.

The town wants her on a stake.
Don't worry, the fire is fake.
But that could still be had.
Odds are lower at her pad.

She has mutts too.
She may slip in poo.
Landmines galore.
Odds are now something of lore.

Was that a dirty look to the cat?
Did you just see that she did that?
Odds go lower just for the look.
Yeah, I control the odds at my nook.

Or at least I pretend.
Them I won't amend.
So get your bets in.
Is she still giving posts a spin?

Oh, and don't forget the honey.
She thinks it is sunny.
She may cause bees to attack.
They may attack by the pack.

Offed by psycho bees.
Worse than fleas on knees?
Both are pretty pad.
The odds are in for her pad.

Odds = Highly Low
Better Than Lowly Low You Know

Don't fear her voodoo. You can make it through. Are you Halloween crazy too? A few months and it shall come due. Ever get attacked by killer bees? I may be wrong on her blog freeze. I think I am wrong on a lot. But the odds are come up with by some statistics robot. The cat can't help how they amass. Now get your bets in to my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.