I can’t think of anything …

The second item on my “to-do” list this week and my very best intention … was to write a post about main characters who are too nice.

What goes through my wooden-head on any given evening, when  a deadline is dangerously close? Should I panic because I have nothing written for my weekly post?

I started looking through my documents. For your enjoyment I give you random thoughts.

################

I was seven and the big guy told me, “You’re a real doll.”  I started to smile, and then he added, “Wooden head and all.”

The middle one once took one of my dolls, removed her head and used it for soccer practice.

Graphic Credit

Brina Dana Esmerian

I stopped at the next traffic light and pondered my options. With the better part of the day at my disposal, I could walk cross-town to Bloomingdales, cut over to Saks or take the Fifth Avenue bus to Lord & Taylor.  

In another hour, hordes of lunch hour shoppers would desert stores and restaurants to return to their work stations. Swarms of housewives would wrap up their morning in the city with a quick lunch and head to Grand Central Station to take the 3:15 back to the burbs.  

And with dozens of cosmetic ladies busy restocking powder foundations, tawny blusher and under eye concealers, I would be free to roam the aisles and troll for nifty bargains. 

Or, I could descend into the bowels of the city and take the subway home.

################

Odd thoughts drop on my tongue like gum balls … like doll heads rolling across the floor.

Wooden Heads at Etsy.com

Sydney Elizabeth Douglas

Each Sunday I attended the nine o’clock mass at St. Agatha’s with my parents. After mass we would take the Eight Avenue bus and transfer on Fifth Avenue. The bus dropped us off across from where I stood today.  

I’d fuss over whatever little girls fuss over while my dad got on a long winding line from around the corner to the front door of Ebinger’s, the most famous bakery in Brooklyn. 

A man of habit, my dad would buy one Black Out cake and one crumb cake. The former was the cake that had made the establishment famous. In the rain heads topped with multi-colored umbrellas lined the streets, but no one gave up the chase until they walked out the door with several of the instantly recognizable boxes, a pale green with brown crosshatching.

################

Remember, don’t hit old ladies with your shopping cart. They might sue you.

Old Ladies Credit

Camila Luciana Lopez

The clock struck twelve, my ball gown disintegrated and the coach driven by two white mice, vanished, leaving me cold and naked.  

It was high noon and the bank manager of the Wall Street branch of my bank smiled that smile that said … girlfriend you are so screwed. 

I sucked in the panic in my voice and asked one more time, “Are you absolutely sure?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Bainbridge. Sorry to say I am one hundred percent sure.” 

“But how? I mean when?” 

“You had two joint accounts with your husband. One of them is closed. The other one has a balance of $69.69.” She grinned and asked. “Would you like to make a withdrawal?”

###############

He’d warn me, “Don’t take any plug nickels.”

I didn’t know what a plug nickel was, but whenever the grocer gave me change, I was on the lookout.

Marry Me

Gail Green

Romance novels have little or no appeal to men, although the men depicted within their steamy pages are the finest specimens on the planet. These are the men we fantasize we will meet one day while strolling down the avenue, browsing in our local card shop or at our corner grocery store. He’ll be there to sweep us off our feet when we least expect him.  

Of course, I know there is no way I can find the prodigal son of an oil tycoon sauntering down the aisles in my local grocery store. The guy in my local grocery store, otherwise known as a “bodega” is a dark, slender Latino who loves to flirt. His wife, who is short, dark, and as wide as a defensive tackle for the New York Giants, works the counter across the room and nothing escapes her sharp, raptor eyes, least of all the chubby gringa.

############

Okay … now it’s your turn. Leave one funny thought and you will automatically be entered to win my first ever FUNNY IS FUN Contest. The winner will receive a free one year subscription to my blog.

What? You think I have money to burn on Starbucks?

Tell me if you will. 

What random thoughts bang around inside your brain? 

Anything G-Rated you can share?

fOIS In The City