So, I’d like to celebrate Tie-One-On-Tuesday, but I can’t because a poltergeist keeps stealing my bourbon.
It all started about six months ago with a can of cooking spray. I sat in on the counter, turned around to get a spatula, turned back and it was gone. Just like that, it had disappeared into thin air. I went out, bought another, and put it in the cabinet. When I searched for it the next day, I discovered the replacement can had disappeared. This happened three more times within two weeks. So, it became obvious that I had a ghost who either needed lubricant for some otherworldly perversion or who’d found a way get some kind of whippet-like high from Pam.
Since, it has also taken my car keys, a pair of silver hoop earrings, sequined string bikini bottoms, three tubes of red lipstick, my Drivers License, a Madonna CD, and one of my python pumps. This leads me to the conclusion that in his former life my poltergeist was a one-legged drag queen.
A sadistic one-legged drag queen that I have decided to call ChaCha Flaminga. He also uses his incorporeal powers to make my clothes change sizes while they hang in my closet. Dresses that fit perfectly six months ago now look as if they’ve been shrink-wrapped to my body. And, he has the spooky skill to make words on a page smaller at will. I constantly pick up books that I could read just fine a year ago, only to find the print is tiny and needs to be held at arm’s length.
But, back to the bourbon. Each afternoon when I settle in for cocktail hour, my decanter is far emptier than I remember it being the night before. ChaCha Flaminga is burgling my booze.
The last thing ChaCha thieved were the note cards that I spent hours on last weekend. Each was filled with dozens of brilliant blog topics. So, you can blame him for this crappy entry.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.