Category: Ties

It has happened to us all. You and Tie o’ the Day are cruisin’ in  the fast lane on the freeway. Suddenly, you’re stuck behind a car traveling at a speed barely resembling motion. As you pass on the right, you see the driver:  Old Man In A Hat! Yep, that guy. He’s also known as Old Man Wearing His Waistband Around His Chest. Tie gets into roady rages at slow-driving geezers. Tie has a potty mouth 🚽 👄, and a bad finger too. 🏎

Bow Tie o’ the Day styled my hairs into half of a curlicued, pencil-thin ‘stache. A simple, but profound design. But at my doc appointment this morning, Bow Tie got jealous of the very hairdo it crowned my crown with. It seems the ‘stache was getting more attention than Bow Tie, and the ties are used to being center stage, 24/7. 🎭 🎪 A fight ensued, and after their melee was over, my hairdo was much askew about nothing. 🥊

Tie o’ the Day barks orders from the lamp. See…when I’m writing, I often get caught up in finding the one precise word that will make a poem THE POEM THAT WILL CHANGE THE WORLD, AND MAKE US RICH! Or something like that. So when I get sidetracked in my work, I kinda let housework slide. But Tie has finally had enough of the heaping backlog of laundry. Ain’t nobody can climb this mountain! Ain’t nobody can sit on the love seat! So much for my Sabbath. 🗒 ✏️

No Tie o’ the Day here! But gander at my weird shirt collar! No style o’ tie could’ve salvaged whatever look I was going for with this collar. In a X-mas bin, I found this palm-sized plate ornament Momo made. She crafted one for each grandchild, and glued silver rick-rack to the back, in order to hang it from a bough. “Sissy”, her nickname for me, is still penciled on the back of the plate. 🎄 💝 Sing with me: “It’s my post, and I’ll cry if I want to.” 😢

When every dog blanket is is being washed, our mutts like a warm t-shirt. Bow Tie o’ the Day leads this Race For The Cure t-shirt coziness.  The shirt proves I ran in this race in 1996, when I lived near Washington D.C.. Wow! It’s been 21 years since then. Heck, now I can’t even run to the bathroom when my bladder’s calling. Obviously, I ran the race before my pancreas caught fire and became the size of Rhode Island. That’s small for a state, but enormous for a pancreas. 👟 🚽

Sometimes you just gotta sit in your broken, favorite chair. You just gotta relax in your big girl SLOGGERS, and loosen the Bow Tie o’ the Day which is displayed on your tuxedo-design socks. And that red cummerbund? Please! “Cummerbund” is an unpoetic, clunky word. I think it must mean “extra, extra, extra, extra-wide belt.” 🤵🏻 🛋

Dad’s parents, Momo and Popo, had these plates— with their nicknames written at the bottom of each one— hanging in their kitchen when I was a kid. On the back of one plate, it says Mom’s late sister, Shirley, made them in 1961. Mom must have commissioned Aunt Shirley to craft the plates, and then given them to Momo and Popo as a gift. Momo is wearing Bow Tie o’ the Day, while Popo is sporting Tie o’ the Day. Clearly, even the crafted tie doesn’t fall far from the tree. 👔 🌳 🍎

I declare that dog collars qualify as Ties o’ the Day, but I  didn’t create this pic. What kind of loony person photographs canines wearing balloon boobs, to post on social media? And then I wonder who has the time to create and post inane stuff like this anyway. Don’t these people have jobs? And then I also remember: I do the same damn thing, twice a day usually. I am one of THEM.  It’s inexplicable, but at least I gussy up in a tie to do it. 💻 🖥 ⌨️

This ain’t a comb-over. It’s a comb-up-front—constructed by Tie o’ the Day, who’s planning to attend Barber College. (Do they have those anymore?) A photo of this hairdo must be included in Tie’s college application portfolio. The admissions committee will not have seen a ‘do as breathtaking as this beautastic incredible-isciousness ever before. Really, though, I think it’s how I wear the hair design that gives it its homey charm. 💇‍♂️ 🎓 And my duds provide a clash o’ fashion which adds mightily to the hairdo doin’ what hairdo’s do.

Bow Tie o’ the Day is helping me finally tell you about my Spock ear, which often appears here. I was born with it, two years before Spock was created. I WIN! I’m proud of my point, and I’ve forever wanted to pierce or tattoo it. Or both. In 32 years, I’ve never yet convinced Suzanne to let me do it. Clearly, it’s not a deal-breaker with us, but I won’t stop pestering her about it. I’m hopeful that someday she’ll say JUST DO IT!, if only to shut me up. 👂🏻