Ring My Bell


As I sit here checking my FB, waiting for Nevada’s number one legal sex-worker to reply to me, I can’t help but tap out a few meaningless words about my early morning.

As for the sex-worker (we don’t call them prostitutes anymore,) she’s my new hero as she is suing Nevada Governor Sisolak because he is disallowing the brothels from re-opening. And I’m fairly sure you know how I feel about Herr Sissy-lick.

Brothels are legal in 15 of 17 Nevada counties, though not all have them. So, since it is a legal trade plied in the state, it is a business that needs rightful consideration when it comes to re-opening.

Even Sunday mornings are full of interest…

My Samsung not only has me perplexed, it has every technician at AT&T scratching their head, too. It doesn’t ring when someone calls me, unless it is my wife, my son, daughter-in-law or a friend who lives in Arkansas.

Neither does it show the phone number of the caller, save for those afore mentioned persons above. This means I cannot respond to most texts, because the phone has no idea what the return number is and if anyone leaves a voice mail, unless they state their number, I cannot call them back unless I know who they are and I have their number on hand.

Case in point, I have a friend named Barb Y. Her husband died last August and I’ve have been trying to help her by getting her connected with county and state welfare.

Problem is that she changed phones, phone number etc., and though she keeps calling me and texting me, I have no way of returning her texts or calls. Worse yet, the last I spoke to her she was being moved and damned if I know where.

So, Barb – if you by chance read this – no, I am not ghosting you, but please, could you leave a phone number in your next voice mail or text. Also let me know where you are physically so I can come to you.

Then there is this…

The elderly Italian that lives east of us, the one who collects military memorabilia and to whom I sold my United Nations beret and crest to, passed away yesterday. Piero was 89-years-young.

His daughter, Alessi came by to let me know and to return the beret and crest. I offered to return the money he paid for it, but she declined stating that he’d want me to have it because then I’d remember him.

Damned shame, he was a joy to talk too, though I had a hard time understanding him as his accent was so full. Alessi is going to take him back home to New York (I thought she was going to say Italy) to be laid to rest in the family plot next to his two brothers.

I know I keep saying it, but…fucking 2020!

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