nonamedufus

Bob and Carol had spent three nights together now... in the office. They were senior officers of the In Your Face ad agency and they'd been putting their heads together on a pitch for a new client. Ted and Alice had tried and failed. "Ouch" yelled Bob. "What?" cried Alice. "My head hurts from putting our heads together" said Bob. Carol was nodding in agreement. "Oh yeah, well my neck hurts from always nodding in agreement" said Carol. You don't always have to agree" said Bob. "Well the prompt says 'nodding in agreement', right? It doesn't say nodding in disagreement, does it?" "I see your point" said Bob "right at the tip of your head, hah, hah, hah." "O knock it off" said Carol. "We have work to do." "That's right," said Bob. "But so far we've failed big time" he said sadly, looking to see if Carol was nodding in agreement. "We ne

They met at a concert. Leonard Cohen was playing in Ottawa at the National Arts Centre. During the intermission they bumped into each other, their eyes locked and they smiled at their mutual and momentary clumsiness. They each offered the other that typically Canadian apology of "I'm sorry". And then he asked her if he could get her a drink. In the space of a nanosecond she assessed his looks, his voice, his demeanour and tentatively uttered "Yes, please, vodka and lime juice." The rest of the concert whizzed by as did the rest of the month during which time, one might say, he danced her to the end of love. And then they travelled to Europe; sat next to each other on the plane and stared intently into each other's eyes until they landed at Heathrow. She fell in love with England. They spent every day sightseeing. And every night lavishing one another with a thousand kisses deep, several times a night. "Halleluejah" she cried each night

So according to my friend Jenn Thorson in a Facebook post there's this meme going around where you go to Google images and type your name and "meme" and see what meme you get. I went with my nom de blog "dufus". So in dufus memes here's how that went. I have so much friggin' time on my hands. Yes I do. And by the way, I didn't kill your father.

Detective Brown and Inspector Baker had been investigating the case of The Canvas Bag Murderer. The same man had committed twelve murders and according to witnesses he had always been carrying a canvas bag. The manner of each murder was intriguing. The victim hadn't been shot. Nor had he been knifed or beaten. "Something was missing" said Brown. "What?" said Baker, who was hard of hearing. "Missing" said Brown. "I said something was missing". In each case the cause of death had been poison. An odd MO as no one had seen how it had been administered. Brown and Baker were reviewing the dockets of each victim in an attempt to tie the murders together in the hopes of leading them to the murderer. However, said Brown again "Something was missing".  "Say what?" asked Baker. "Missing" cried Brown, frustrated. "I said something was missing". There was nothing to tie the murder victims together. Frustrat

It was a return to police and detective novels this month as I read number five in the Dave Robicheaux series by James Lee Burke, number two in the Chief Inspector Armand Gamache series by Canadian author Louise Penny and the nineteenth in the Harry Bosch series by Michael Connelly. All excellent reads. I also read A Dark and Broken Heart by R.J. Ellory, one of my favourite authors. His series is not an ongoing series of the same characters but an ongoing series of dark novels. I think he's almost - and I may have said this before - the Stephen King of police procedurals. I began the month reading the fourth book in The Maze series by James Dashner. I say fourth but it's actually the first because it's the prequel which helps set the other three books - which I read in October - of this dark and dystopian world into context My monthly visit to the world of music consisted of two fascinating books. Star Making Machinery, written in 1975, follows Captain Cody and th

P..J. over at a lil 'hoohaa has outdone himself this month with the November theme of where the streets have no name . I mean really? C'mon, I mean wherever I go all the streets have "noname". They don't call me nonamedufus for nothing. So, like, this month's challenge is a no-brainer for me. Which is probably a good thing because I'm challenged at the best of times. So here I am (noname, remember) on a street in Old  Montreal. Look at the outline if the house on the side of that building over my shoulder. A house with no name! Here's another street with noname in Montreal. It's actually rue St Paul Ouest, across the street from Stash Cafe which serves the best Polish food in Montreal. This street with noname is down the street from where I live. This was the second week of November and it was so cold noname donned a toque. According to that post over my shoulder I'm under surveillance. Now, enough selfies. Here's

As she lay there, still, she lifted her heavy eyelids against the morning sun shining brightly through the sheer curtains. Her blond hair, once lovely, long and plentiful, lay splashed across the pillow, not for the first time but until now they had been under far better and much more memorable  circumstances. Her body was ravaged by cancer and pain. Over the last few months it had gotten worse, much worse. "I've had a good life" she nevertheless thought to herself, with a smile playing upon her chapped lips. "A very good life" she thought although she was only thirty-six. And yet at such a difficult time she thought back on many positive things. A favourite song by the Beatles. A favourite book by R..J. Ellory. A favourite movie about that gardner fellow who, through a series of misunderstandings, rubbed shoulders with the elite of society. And she thought of all the men in her life. She had never married. But she was by no means what some might call a

And for my American friends who give thanks a month after we Canadians did...