A dog-loving sleuthhound named Kurt
Was a hardworking gumshoe and flirt.
Though his chow did no tricks,
She DID attract chicks…
And was handy at digging up dirt.
Posts Tagged ‘Flirting’
The Sleuth And His Dog (Limerick)
Monday, November 6th, 2023Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: TEASE or TEAS or TEES at the end of any one line
Saturday, April 14th, 2018It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And that means I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same rhyme word. Then you post your limerick(s) as a comment to this post and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
I hope you’ll join me in writing limericks using TEASE or TEAS or TEES at the end of any one line. (Homonyms or homophones are fine.)
The best submission will be crowned Limerick-Off Award Winner. (Here’s last week’s Limerick-Off Award Winner.)
Additionally, you may write themed limericks related to EGO, using any rhyme scheme. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best EGO-related limerick.
How will your poems be judged? By meter, rhyme, cleverness, and humor. (If you’re feeling a bit fuzzy about limerick writing rules, here’s my How To Write A Limerick article.)
I’ll announce the winners on April 29, right before I post the next Limerick-Off. So that gives you two full weeks to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday, April 28, 2018 at 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my limerick:
A gal who loved flirting with guys
Indulged in behavior unwise.
She would do a striptease
And then mockingly squeeze
Their crown jew’ls. In the ground she now lies.
Please feel free to enter my Limerick-Off by posting your limerick(s) in my comments. And if you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll join my friends in that same activity on my Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please email Madkane@MadKane.com Subject: MadKane’s Newsletter. Thanks!
My Close Encounter (I Think) With Paul Newman
Saturday, September 27th, 2008I awoke today to the sad news that the great Paul Newman has died. Paul Newman has always been one of my favorite actors. So you can imagine how thrilled I was when I encountered him many years ago in a New York bar. At least, I’m pretty sure I encountered him, but you be the judge. Here’s a column I wrote about the incident way back when:
OGLING EYES
I was ogled last night by a very handsome, classy looking, much older man. Now most women (and I’m no exception) are secretly gratified by the occasional gawker … unless catcalls and droopy drawers are involved. (Okay, maybe not the sponsors of the Anti-Ogling Addendum to the ERA.)
Unfortunately, I’m such an unobservant person, that I usually have to trip over an ogler to notice him. Here’s a recent exchange with hubby Mark:
Mark: Did you see that guy leering at you?
Me: What guy?
Mark: The one you just stepped on … over there on the stretcher.
However, even I couldn’t fail to catch last night’s ogling. It lasted forty-five minutes, well beyond the flattering stage into the “keep your lascivious eyeballs to yourself, buster” stage.
But here’s the thing — I’m almost positive (although not lie detector positive) that those ogling eyes (and the rest of him) belonged to Paul Newman.
Yes, I know that sounds unlikely, if not downright absurd. What would Paul Newman be doing anywhere near me? And even if we did briefly and serendipitously share the same piece of real estate, surely he could find something better to eye. And why wasn’t he busy dodging hordes of autograph hounds pestering … and ogling … him? … (Ogling Eyes is continued here.)
