Tagged For Weird

Cheri tagged me with a meme! I am required to list 5 weird habits of mine. Now not only did she list her five every day weird habits, she went well beyond the call of duty. She even listed her five weird sexual habits. Cheri, I will not exercise the option to do the same. (Besides no one will find it interesting that I sometimes write dirty words on Nuns' habits when they aren't looking. That is my contribution to weird sexual habits.)

I found this to be a somewhat daunting task. Either I have (a) no weird habits, (b) there are so many that it I couldn't narrow the list to five, or (c) I don't really want to do this. Well, the correct answer is (c), which by default also eliminates (a) because everyone has weird habits whether they realize it or not.

That brings me full circle to accept the fact that I am brimming with weirdness. Does that count as one? I didn't think so. Gosh darn it Cheri, this is hard!

Well, here goes nothing.

1. I cannot post to my blog from my head. I must first write it out in longhand. Only then, from the written draft can I post anything. The same holds true when I send e-mails.
2. I defy anything that others consider superstitious. I deliberately walk under ladders, even to the point of crossing the street just to do so. I make fun of others who fear these things on Friday the 13ths.
3. When I walk I always whistle - usually the themes to "The Bridge on the River Kwai" and "The Magnificent Seven."
4. When I am in someone's house and find the roll of toilet paper set so that you have to pull from the bottom, I have on occasion turned it over to the correct way - to pull from the top.
5. I refuse to party or go anywhere on New Years Eve and St. Patricks Day - as those are amateur nights. I have the other 363 nights to choose from.

Well, there you have it. Those are some of my habits, although I don't particularly find them weird. Perhaps others will find them weird. I must admit that touching someone else's toilet paper might not exhibit proper ettiquette, but it bothers me when they have it upside down. I'm sure this might raise some ire out there, but what can I say?

No.470

Fifty And Helpless?

Why is it that our kids think we are over the hill when we hit our fifties? While it is true we can't do some of the things we used to do as well anymore, we aren't helpless. It's not that we cannot figure out how to program the VCR or the DVD players, it's because we can no longer read all that small print.

"Honey, can you figure out this VCR?"
"Nah, leave the tape sticking out like that ... When the kids come, they will set it up."
"Should I call them?"
"No, you don't want to think we can't do it, do you? Besides, they'll be here later."

Why is it that the kids insist on doing some of our chores? Do they think we can't handle them ourselves?

"Honey, are you going to put the ladder away? You finished glazing the window, didn't you?"
"Nah, I never started it yet. Since the ladder is already there, the son-in-law will take care of it."

Do they think I can't change the washer on the kitchen sink? By the time I got all the tools and parts together, I had to sit down for a spell. Do they really think I was unable to finish shoveling the rest of the snow from the driveway? I had to come in and a cup of cocoa to warm up.

"Dad, my husband said he'll help you change that washer in the sink."
"He doesn't have to. I can do it."
"That's okay, he doesn't mind."
"While you are having your cocoa, he's finishing up the driveway."
"Aw, I don't expect you come to visit and do my work."
"Don't worry, Dad. he's glad to do it."

Why do they think we don't know how to use our computer? (A special thanks to Cheri for having this picture available for me to "borrow.") Besides, with all those "kilos and mega hurts," they practically run themselves. We don't deal in freight, so we don't need to know importing and exporting. We were going to clean the disk, but we misplaced the little brush.

"Mom, I'll clean up the disk space for you."
"While I'm at it, I'll run a spyware scan, defrag, and clean the cache."

Would you agree that we actually have everything under control? In one weekend I managed to get a washer replaced, the window glazed, the driveway shoveled, the VCR running, and the computer running faster. What makes the kids think we are helpless anyway? It seems to me that I was pretty efficient.

Helpless at fifty? I don't think so. My wife and I exchange high fives as the kids are pulling out of the driveway on the way home.

No.469

Mountain Dew Fer You

Native to backwoods of Appalachia, the White-tailed Pickled Deer have been placed on the endangered list. Hunted to near extinction, these rare deer have been prized as a redneck delicacy for several generations.

The female of the species, the Dill Doe is a favorite of the ladies of the hills. Venison brine is the secret ingredient in many kitchens. The eldest of the women claim they get more pleasure from the Dill Doe than anything their menfolk have to offer.

The species is thought to have evolved from drinking out of the many streams and rills found in the valleys and hollows of the rural Appalachian Mountains. Decades of run-off from their canning of pickled cucumbers, beets, beans, corn, hard boiled eggs and pigs feet eventually found its way into the water table.

The menfolk claim the flesh of the Pickled Deer is tender and juicy with just a tinge of dill. Said Jedadiah Bodkins, "It durn near tastes like chicken, 'ceptin' there ain't no feathers."

When told about the origin of the species Gertrude Moses said, "Tarnation! If our men drunk that water instead of their hootch from the stills, us womenfolk would have no use for a Dill Doe." She was quiet for a moment before adding with a grin, "But I reckon Dill Does likely would still come in handy when the men are off on their huntin' trips."

Many of the local yokels have told authorities of an unusal amount of the Pickled Cottontail Rabbit they have been seeing in the hills around their stills and cabins. It appears that the rabbits have begun to evolve from drinking from the same water supplies as the deer. While they have noticed a briny taste in the flesh of the rabbits, the Hillbillies have also seen the critters mating habits changing. "If I didn't know no better," said Clyde Clyde, "Those bunnies act like they are enjoying their fornicatin'. Hell, I even seen a few of them in the Missionary Position."

Many of these reports have been discounted, though. Apparently many of these reports were given after the men had downed three or four fingers of their homemade brews. Harley Sloan said, "My recipe is for a concoction that is used for medicinal purposes only." When asked what his malady might be he answered, "Why, I was thirsty!"

Although unconfirmed, it seems that the run-off from the hidden stills may be also affecting the evolution of certain deer. There are rumors of some deer that seem to sparkle. "It's like they have a glow," said Hank Belcher. "If they drunk from my still they'd be shinin' like they done ate some of Maw's chili."

Barney Sloan, half-brother twice- removed of Harley, said he had seen some frogs acting different than usual. "I seen one of them dancin' around on the rocks and lily pads down at my pond. Tweren't normal frog sounds that big bull was a makin' neither. Dang if it didn't sound like he was carryin' a tune."

"It seems that while all the menfolk are all sittin' around and gettin' loaded on their mountain dew and a blatherin' on about how strange some animals are fornicatin'," said Gertrude Moses, "Us womenfolk aren't gettin' any. So's we all gals will just gather around and more than just talk about our Dill Does."

No.468

Redneck Doinz

Redneck Dictionary
.
ahz: the things you see with
aig: which come first, the chicken or the aig?
arn: an electrical instrument used to remove wrinkles from clothing.
bawl: what water does at 212 degrees.
bidness: commercial enterprise
bobbycue: a delectable southern sandwich of chopped pork, cole slaw an a fiery sauce.
co-cola: any form/brand of soft drink.
clinics: a tissue
crine: weeping
dawfins: name of the pro football team in Miami.
daints: a more or less formal event in which members of the opposite sex hold each other and move rhythmically to the sound of music.
dayum: an expletive; in other states, a four-letter word.
doc: a condition caused by an absence of light.
far: combustion git: to acquire
goff: a game played with clubs and a little white ball.
hep: a cry for assistance, as in "HEP! There's a far!
hoss: a large, solid-hoofed, herbivorous animal.
lectricity: energy for arns, tvs, an other thangs.
liberry: a building where thousands of literary works are kept.
nekkid: to be unclothed.
ole well: a source of petroleum.
own: opposite of awf (see lectricity).
paypuh: what you write on.
shevuhlay: a General Motors car.
spearmint: something scientists do.
stow: establishment where things are sold.
tar: a round inflatable object which sometimes goes flat.
zackly: precisely
.
A Redneck's Friendly Skies
.
A man boarded an airplane and took his seat. As he settled in, he glanced up and saw an unusually beautiful woman boarding the plane. He soon realized she was heading straight toward his seat. Lo and behold, she took the seat right beside his.

Eager to strike up a conversation, he blurted out, "Business trip or vacation?"

She turned, smiled and said, "Business. I'm going to the Annual Nymphomaniac Convention in Chicago".

He swallowed hard. Here was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen sitting next to him and she was going to a meeting for nymphomaniacs! Struggling to maintain his composure, he calmly asked, "What's your business role at this convention?"

"Lecturer," she responded. "I use my experience to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality."

"Really, " he said, "what myths are those?"

"Well," she explained, "one popular myth is that African American men are the most well endowed when, in fact, it's the Native American Indian who is most likely to possess that trait."Another popular myth is that French men are the best lovers, when actually it is the men of Jewish descent. We have, however, found that the best potential lover in all categories is the Southern redneck."

Suddenly, the woman became a little uncomfortable and blushed. "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't really be discussing this with you. I don't even know your name."

"Tonto," the man said, "Tonto Goldstein. But my friends call me Bubba."

"You might be a redneck if go to family reunions looking for a date." - Jeff Foxworthy

No.467

Merry, Merry Quite Contrary

It's going to be a less than merry Christmas this year, I'm afraid. I'll not be spreading much Christmas cheer. I'll probably not have much of it anyway. There will be no Christmas carols. You know what? There just might not be a Christmas!

I'm getting nothing for Christmas this time around. I doubt the stockings will even be hung in the first place. I haven't received a single Christmas card to date. I haven't sent any either. I have even begun to wonder if I might be might offend, for not once has anybody said, "Merry Christmas" to me. I haven't been invited to a single Christmas party.

The gang over there sure look like they are having a great time.

It has saddened me now that I have come to the realization that we will probably not have a Christmas tree this year. We have not put up the Christmas decorations and there are no Christmas lights visible on the outside of our house. I haven't bothered to take them out the boxes.

I've decided that I am not going to buy any Christmas gifts. I won't waste the postage to send out Christmas cards in the mail. There will be no Christmas pageants and no Christmas parades. There'll be no Christmas specials on television to entertain us.

Hold the phone! Before I am labeled a Scrooge or a Grinch, none of this is of my own choosing. None of this lack of Christmas spirit is due to my own resolve. No, I am just another bitter and angry victim of a lifestyle I did not subscribe to or solicit. You need to look no farther that at the PCCP, the Politically Correct Communist Party. Remember the McCarthy Commie witch hunt? Maybe it should be resurrected. Once a grass roots collection of miscreants looking for attention in their pathetic lives, the Party has evolved into a collection of miscreants who want to run and ruin the lives of normal people.

You see, because of their amoebic impact on the world, they have chosen to launch a meteoric assault upon the rest of us. Sadly, any resistance we offer is viewed as an affront upon their rights. Hear them cry, "Foul! Resisting conformity to our views!"

Oh, I will be spreading cheer this year. The stockings will be hung. The tree is already up. Decorations are on display. There are lights outside. I am sending out cards - some have already been mailed. I have bought gifts and will be buying more.

I will not conform. I've taken my stand. Happy Holiday! Holiday Tree! What a bunch of clap trap! Merry Christmas!! Ho-Ho-Ho!!

Joke Time: The young shapely widow of an old rancher had received everything. Needing help to run the ranch, she decided to advertise for a ranch hand. Only three men applied for the job. One man was gay, a second was a drunk and the third was a handsome chiseled stud. She thought about who she should hire long and hard. In the end, she hired the gay man. Obviously the drunk was not one she could trust to get the job done. The handsome stud, while possessing all the attributes a woman would want in a man, would be more of a distraction she decided.
....Knowing the gay guy would be safer to have around and not a distraction to her mourning, he turned out to be a tireless worker. He knew more about ranching than all of the other hands. She decided to reward him for his hard work and let him have a night off to go into town for some fun.
....Late into the evening he returned from town to the ranch house. Halfway to his room, he saw the woman standing beside the fireplace, a glass of wine in her hand. She called him over.
....Setting her wine on the mantle she faced him. "Unbutton my blouse and take it off," she ordered. Trembling, he did so. "Now take off my boots," she said. "Now my stockings." The hired man continued to comply. "Now take off my skirt." He unzipped it and let it fall to the floor. "Now take off my bra." Again he did as he was told. "Now take off my panties." He slowly pulled them off.
....She fixed him with a determined gaze and said, "If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you're fired!"

No.466

Gifts That Keep On Giving

You'll know that great scarf and hat you bought him wasn't such a great gift ... When you see it on the snowman in their front yard.

You'll know he didn't like that necktie you bought ... When you see it is being used to tie back the rose bush.

You'll know that sweater you knitted didn't fit ... When you see it on their dog.

You'll know that all that fruit cake wasn't eaten ... When it is being used to hold down the tarp on the boat.

You'll know that fancy multi-colored vase never held flowers ... When you notice their new sidewalk with embedded multi-colored glass.

You'll know you aren't going to see her in that sheer negligee ... When you find pieces of it in the rag bag under the kitchen sink.

You'll know that the new toaster oven wasn't a very good gift ... When you come and find a thawing pack of frozen Salisbury steak sitting in front of it along with a picture of a $250 jacket.

When we put the shoe on the other foot, what about those gifts that you receive that didn't exactly enthrall you? What about those gifts from the heart that come closer to home, such as those from your significant other? Fortunately such gift giving usually ends in a draw. Both of you bought one of them for the other. All is not lost. While you laugh at the boxer shorts with Marmaduke on them, she is laughing at the rainbow knee highs with the toes.

In this day and age of ecological concerns, you take the only reasonable course of action - recycling, otherwise known as re-gifting! Having expertise in this field, you are fully aware of the tasteful and tasteless rules of re-gifting.

1. Never re-gift to anyone who travels in the same social circles as you. This is especially true if you participate in a Secret Santa Club.
2. Never re-gift to anyone in your extended family, and of course never to immediate family.
3. Remove the original wrapping and rewrap the gift in different paper, ribbons and bows.
4. Does this really have to be stressed? Don't use the same tags and labels! That's a definite give a way.
5. Be careful about the box. If gift came from K-Mart, don't put it in a Tiffany's box!

Then of course there is always eBay. Why not make a buck or two? If you don't think Goodwill would want it, don't feel guilty about trashing it.

A show of hands is all that is required while you ponder these riveting questions?

Who out there has received as a gift ... a Chia Pet?

Who has received a ... Clapper?

A Buttoneer?

A nose hair trimmer?

A Thigh Master?

A singing lobster, the singing bass or the singing mallard?

A CD of Zamfir, the master of the pan flute?

If you have received any or all of these as a Christmas gift, please allow me to enlighten you. You have been Re-Gifted!!

And if you have read someone else's blog that has this same theme, my friends you have been Re-Blogged!

No.465

Of Ice And Men

You could say this was appropriated, borrowed, or usurped, but it was actually stolen from Monty, who stole it from Poopie, who stole it from who knows whom?

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, please post a comment with a completely made-up and fictional memory of you and me. It can be anything you want-good or bad-but it has to be fake.
....Then copy the paragraph above on your own blog.

Truth be told, I was a little hesitant to follow her request and apprehensive about the results. However, she was a trooper, as was Poopie, for doing this. After all, I did post a comment about a fictional (fictional?) memory of Monty and me, so I guess in all fairness, it was only right that I followed through.

As for the picture above, it wasn't really that cold this morning. It was 7 above, so I guess it was just frigging cold! All I can say is, "Thank God I'm not a Brass Monkey!"

While on the subject of the appropriating, the pic here was "borrowed" from the recent post of Miss Cellania. It was just to funny for me to ignore the temptation of posting it here. Do you say "Thank You" for lifting pics from one's site? Or do you flash some tongue and say, "Nyah-nyah?"

Hmm ... Should I? Or shouldn't I hang some mistletoe from my belt buckle? Should I, or shouldn't I delete the previous interrogative?

I'm not saying it was cold this morning, but my tongue stuck to the hot cup of coffee I was drinking!!!

Joke Time: A man in the first class section of a plane is seated beside and elderly woman. The woman suddenly sneezed, took out a tissue and gently wiped her nose. The man was about to say "God Bless You" when the woman began to shudder violently for 10-15 seconds.
....Satisfied that the woman was okay, he turned back to the magazine he had been reading. The woman suddenly sneezed again. Again, after wiping her nose, she went into a fit of the same convulsions as before. The man's curiosity was starting to get the better of him, but once again he said nothing and returned to the magazine article.
....The woman sneezed several times more followed by the same violent shuddering. After the last bout, he could not help but to turn to the lady. "Are you all right, Madam? Every time you sneeze you start to shake all over."
...."I'm sorry if I am disturbing you," she replied. "I have a rare medical condition. Every time I sneeze, I have an orgasm."
....Although he was embarrassed, he was even more intrigued. "I've never heard of that before. What are you taking for it?"
....She looked at the man and said, "Pepper."

No.464

The Gift Of Giving

THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A HOLIDAY TREE!

Now that I got that out of my system...

What do give to a man who has everything? More of everything? The rest of everything?
....You know, to hell with the man who has everything! Let him worry about it. He can probably buy the whole damn store anyway.

The Pointmeister, as always, likes to provide useful information to his readers. This blog will be no exception. Thus, I am going to answer a question far more important. I don't really care about that guy who has everything. I am more concerned about the down-to-earth man, the man who has nothing.

What Do You Give To The Man Who Has Nothing?

You might think this would be difficult to answer. In fact, it is easy. Buy him anything, stupid. If he has nothing, he must need anything, right? Indeed, he needs everything. What's the problem?

....Okay, okay. As my mission is to provide you with useful information, what follows is a list of the ideal gifts to give to a man who has nothing.

1. 48-inch High Definition TV set
2. Three-eighths electric drill (no battery operated power tools)
3. Motorized Recliner with built in beer chest and AM/FM stereo
4. Gift Certificates for Hardware and Auto-Parts stores
5. Gift Certificates for Steak House with bar and big-screen TVs
6. Regulation-sized pool table with ball return pockets
7. 4 tires + spare for his truck
8. New computer, complete with peripherals
9. New Fly Rod and Reel
10. Catherine Zeta-Jones

What man would complain if he were to find these ten items under his tree on Christmas morning. It would be a Christmas to remember.

Why do you have that strange look on your face? You have a problem with that list? Okay! You figured it out. I admit it, I gave you my wish list! Come on, it isn't unreasonable. I know, I know ... I'm not a man who has nothing! I come close though! I have a lot of needs. I almost have nothing. Okay! I won't be greedy. How about I settle for just one of them? Can I choose the one? Let me see ... Decisions, decisions ... Hmm. I'll be practical and opt for number 10.

Look at it this way: It'll be practice for you for that time when you find a man who has nothing.

Oh, by the way, my birthday is in February. Don't forget Fathers Day!

No.463

Blog News In Review

This just in: Kermit T. Frog's career shortened by rare mysterious ailment. The malady, known as Metacarpal Larynx Puppetosis, was caused by an over-zealous Proctologist. In a related story, Miss Piggy was hospitalized complaining of a chronic case of Frog-in-the-throat. The former stars of The Muppet Show insist that their relationship is strictly plutonic and professional.

In the business world, Coca Cola has come under fire for promoting oral sex with subliminal messages and images. Representatives of Coke are denying the charges. When shown the above photograph from a recent advertising campaign, a Vice President of Advertising said they would have to review it with their attorneys. The partners at Tripem, Stickem and Dickem had no comment until they have studied the charges and discussed the matter with their client. In traffic news around the city, commuters experienced delays of an hour or more because of an over turned vehicle at a major intersection. The driver of the Terrapin Enterprises vehicle claimed that the Snail Mail vehicle failed to come to a stop at the dangerous intersection. Police are investigating.
On the domestic scene, certain female Psychologists are becoming concerned about a growing number of young women who feel compelled to "baby" their boy friends and husbands. A spokesperson for American Psychology Enterprises, A.P.E., was quoted as saying, "We are seeing more and more women in relationships with former Mamas Boys who feel they must cater to the every need of the men in their lives."
The Council on Aging recently took a poll of elderly men 90 or more years old to determine what they attributed to their long and healthy lives. The survey took the mens answers and came up with the three most commen answers given.

Bill Gates, CEO of Microsoft has unveiled a new version of Microsoft Word. The new version has been designed for those who are technically challenged, especially the blonde users who have long complained of the difficult manuals and cryptic instructions available with existing software.

In closing this installment of the Blog News In Review, our team of reporters visited Billy Ray Smythe on his farm near Houston, Texas. Mr. Smythe was reported in the Book of World Records are as having the world's largest cock. He was only too glad to show it to our camera crew.

No.462

Signs Of The Times

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that, Can't you read the sign.
...And the sign said anybody caught trespassing would be shot on sight...Five Man Vocal Band

Funny signs appear on many sites from time to time. Why should mine be an exception? When I am feeling a little less than creative, like today, they are good to fall back on. When a sign evokes an oldie hit song, that is good - it provides an opening!


Sometimes signs are confusing. Other times, they are just too funny for words. Anyone else curious just what prompt attention you might get?

Man on cell phone: "Hello, I seem to be lost. I am at the corner of Lazy and Easy!"


Then there are those signs (icons) you see on your computer screens. Here's an annoying one to me, especially when the servors are slow and moving at a snail's pace. How many times is it going to go around? Publish already, will ya!?

What if certain signs were meant to be taken literally when you think otherwise. Take the symbol on a restroom door for example.

Fellow chocolate lovers, let's all meet at the corner of Cocoa and Chocolate after work! I'll have a double!!

I'm going to pass on this place, I think. In any event, I would certainly avoid the restrooms.









I'm wouldn't swear to it, but I have a feeling that business is booming at this place. Got to hand it to them for a clever way to pull in some business!

Funny, but somehow I missed this movie! It must be another one of those sequels that went straight to DVD. (No wonder Skip has been acting so funny.) He keeps muttering, "She don't call ... She dont write..."








Aha! That's where that place is! All you ladies out there, follow the sign !! If I'm not mistaken, 62 runs into 69 somewhere down the road.




Finally, what blog about funny signs would be complete without a tribute to our friends, those upstanding citizens,the Lawyers!



And the sign said everybody welcome, come in, kneel down and pray.
But when they passed around the plate at the end of it all,
I didn't have a penny to pay, so I got me a pen and a paper and I made up my own little sign,
I said, "Thank you Lord for thinking about me, I'm alive and doing fine.

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blocking the scenery, breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign....

No.461

Drinks On The Souse

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to learn it from Oliver Stone movies. - Mallard Fillmore 12/9/05

I have always admired Denzel Washington as an actor. He has been in some excellent movies. However, there is one film that as far as I am concerned, tarnished an otherwise stellar resume.
....It had to be the money, otherwise what was he thinking to accept the role of Malcom X in another historically flawed Spike Lee film? I assume he read the script before he inked the contract.
....It bothered me that Washington might have bought into the history Stone was butchering. Leave us face it, Malcom X was no role model for anyone but angry militant blacks. He was the antithesis of the Rev. Martin Luther King.
....Mayhem never solved injustice. Hate never calmed hate. Malcom X never accomplished a fraction of the results King could claim.

Hear about the guy who got lost driving to the electronics store to buy a GPS system?

Recently a Boston landmark closed its doors for the final time. The Littlest Bar, crowded even when it wasn't busy, was essentially a hole in the wall located in downtown Boston. It epitomized the phrase "where everyone knows your name" decades before the TV show Cheers was aired.
....It had regular crowds who kept the seats warm in several shifts throughout the day. It was not the type place my gang liked to frequent. There was no music. They served only top shelf booze and carried no lite beers. If you wanted lite beer you had to order Coors or Miller. Why those two breweries make light beer is one of life's mysteries, as their regular beer was already lighter than most brands.
....A tip of the hat to The Littlest Bar - adieu. I've been thrown out of better bars!






The Candy Story

I guess this is a good time to ressurect a real old joke. I heard this when I was Junior High school in the early sixties. I am sure it is much, much older.

....This version is the first time I have seen it with images of the candy bars, but the effect is the same. It is slightly different than the one I remember.

....So here it is, The Candy Story for your sweet tooth and your sweet perverted minds.


No.460

The Twelve Hours of Decorating

On the first hour of decorating, I put up an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the second hour of decorating, I put up two wreaths for the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the third hour of decorating, I untangled three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the fourth hour of decorating, I brought out four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the fifth hour of decorating, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the sixth hour of decorating, I hung six strands of galrland, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the seventh hour of decorating, I hung seven packets of tinsel, six strands of garland, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the eighth hour of decorating, I had an eight-ounce steak for dinner, hung seven packets of tinsel, six strands of garland, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the ninth hour of decorating, I drank my ninth can of beer, had an eight-ounce steak for dinner, hung seven packets of tinsel, six strands of garland, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the tenth hour of decorating, my team pushed a ten-point spread, had my ninth can of beer, an eight-ounce steak for dinner, hung seven packets of tinsel, six strands of garland, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....On the eleventh hour of decorating, my true love handed me eleven sets of lights for outside, my team pushed a ten-point spread, had my ninth can of beer, an eight-ounce steak for dinner, hung seven packets of tinsel, six strands of garland, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.
....And on the twelth hour of decorating, I fell asleep for twelve hours, was handed eleven sets of lights for outside, my team pushed a ten-point spread, had my ninth can of beer, an eight-ounce steak for dinner, hung seven packets of tinsel, six strands of garland, my team scored five field goals, brought down four boxes of ornaments, three strings of lights, put up two wreaths on the doors, and an artificial Christmas tree.

When I awoke refreshed, I was grateful that there wasn't a thirteenth verse! I'll bet you are too!




No.459

White Whammy

Friday we were hit with a fast-moving snow storm. Although we only got about six inches in those communities closest to the ocean, it was a fierce storm. We awoke to one inch of loose dry powder on the ground. The forecast called for anything from four to twelve inches of cover by late afternoon. I was able to get out to work on time. With a little luck, by the time of the evening traffic, I would have an easy drive home.

It was looking good when I left my first client. The snow had turned to rain, the Meteorologist had predicted that would happen. By the time I left the house of the second client the rain had stopped. The sky looked ominous, but there was no precipitation. Before continuing my schedule, I was able to take care of a little personal business. After stopping at the ATM machine, picking up a few things at the supermarket, and grabbing a steak and cheese sub, I was on my way to the next client.

As luck would have it, the standing water on the snow began to freeze. I was fortunate that the several cars that spun out of control were in my rear view mirror and not ahead of me. I find that the biggest hazard to driving on icy streets isn't the other vehicles, but the pedestrians who insist on walking in the street with approaching traffic at their backs. If it were me, I'd want to walking on the other side of the street. I'd prefer to have an out of control car in my sight. I guess some people have a death wish or are just plain stupid. They might as well be like that penguin about to incur the wrath of a sleeping polar bear.

Arriving on the parking lot of the home of my third client, I was startled by a sudden flash of light. At the same moment I looked skyward there was a loud thunderclap. By the time I reached the door to the main lobby of the building, light snow was beginning to fall. This job was two back to back hour and a half cleaning jobs for a very nice elderly couple. They live on the seventh floor of one of four buildings each containg thirty-six condos. As I was doing my thing, I was able to keep an eye on the weather conditions through a sliding door to an outside landing.

Mrs. P. brought to my attention a rather large black blot on my shirt. My pen had been leaking in my shirt pocket. There on the corner of the pocket was a golf ball-sized stain. I wasn't too concerned about the shirt, after all it was a work shirt, but I was curious to see if it bled through to my undershirt. It did. The ink didn't rest on its laurels there either, for it bled through the shirt and onto the flesh beneath. Although I protested at first, Mr. and Mrs. P. insisted that I remove the shirts. While Mrs. P. scrubbed the ink spots and soaked the shirt in a tub of water, her husband produced a shirt from his wardrobe for me to put on.

I am not and have never been known as a fashion plate, but that shirt would never be featured in Gentleman's Quarterly. It was white, plastered with an array of brown and green banjos and accordians surrounded by black music note symbols. I swear, before and henceforth, yesterday was the first and only time I will be seen in a Polka shirt. Roll Out The Barrels began banging around inside my skull. I continued my duties occupied with the nightmarish vision of being on a "Lawrence Welk Show." It was surely a Geritol moment.

The sight before my eyes as I glanced at the sliding door across the room, quickly dissipated the champagne music. The snow was blowing sideways, and though I was indoors, a sudden chill came over me. In only moments, the wind driven snow was gone, replaced with a veil of white. The adjacent buildings, less than twenty-five yards apart disappeared. It was a classic white out. I picked up my pace, the sooner I finished cleaning their apartment, the sooner I could get myself to the cover of my own home. I am always glad to get home on Friday, but this Friday was urgent.

By the time I had left the building, the white out conditions had abated, but the result of the blowing snow had created drifts three to four feet high against the buildings and the vehicles parked in the lots. I was not amused by the curious artistry or the cruel condition Mother Nature in collaboration with Old Man Winter had treated my truck. Exactly half of it was buried in a huge drift. The driver's side was uncovered from the bumper to the tail gate, while the other half was encased a white coat. My practice of carrying a snow shovel in my truck on days snow was predicted had not been exercised yesterday. Suddenly, "TGIF" meant This Guy Is F**ked!

The only thing in my favor was that the snow was an airy light powder. With my snow brush and bare hands I was able to clear much of the snow from my vehicle in about a half hour. All the while gusts of wind and snow borne upon it showed no mercy. I was tired. I was cold. I was agitated. I was freezing! If that weren't enough, I still had the task of driving home. Something told me that those three miles from that parking lot to my driveway wasn't going to be an easy commute.

Needless to say, I was correct in my assessment of the drive home. It took an hour and a half. The streets were in awful condition, what with the ice hidden by the freshest of the snow and the slow procession of vehicles, their drivers wanting only the same as me, but to get home safely. I had to avoid the side streets, several of which were obvious shortcuts to my destination. What plowing had been done, had been concentrated on the main thoroughfares. Lesser trafficked streets had to beat down by the few adventurous souls who dared to take them.

I did get stuck finally, unable to free my truck from a virgin drift of snow. It was in my own driveway that I had to abandon my ride. What better place to get stuck in snow, but in one's driveway a mere ten feet from one's front door! As I trudged through the drift, I looked upon the desolation of a glacial field that had been as early as that morning, a driveway. There was a lot of shoveling in store for me, but this was Friday and it was five PM. Tomorrow was another day. Inside, there was a cup of hot coffee with my name on it.

(P.S. By the way, I was able to change back into my work shirt, washed and dried. At least I didn't have to explain a Polka shirt when I got home.)

No.458

Blind Spirit of Christmas

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Blind Spirit of Christmas

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Wandering about, I was looking
For this thing they called the Christmas Spirit.
Would I even be able to recognize it
Should I pass by it, or should I come near it?
I lost it quite a few years ago
In some box of lights, tinsel and ornaments,
Somewhere in an attic crawlway
With the decorations and bright merriments.
Maybe I dropped it ere a window
Displaying the sales items and the bargains;
Perhaps he needs a pair of gloves,
He'd look great in one of those cardigans.
Growing up, I'd heard the stories
That told us of peace on earth and good will.
I knew the spirit was out there.
I swore I'd find it and I wouldn't stop until.
Where is that Spirit of Christmas?
Not among the sales slips that I see littered
Or in the bags shoppers carry.
It's something else that has me embittered.
I turned the corner to the square
And came upon a man sitting on cardboard;
His sightless eyes not seeing any
Of the precious few coins that he had scored.
A pair of broken sunglasses lay
Next to him, stepped on by some passerby.
He held aloft a twenty dollar bill.
He said "I can't see her but I can hear her cry."
She lost her favorite Teddy bear.
I heard her crying, passing with her mother.
Can someone give this to her,
So that she can go in the shop to buy another?"
Her mother was touched by this,
And kindly declining she dropped a twenty
Into his can from the purse she held.
"It is you who is in need and we have plenty."
Was it a tear forming in my eye?
I then removed the sunglasses from my shirt
And touched him on his shoulder.
"The glare on the snow is bright and must hurt.
You surely need these more than I.
I could see upon his arms sores needing salve.
I doubted that he would seek care,
But I pulled out the only bill I happened to have.
"You are so kind," he said to me.
"No," I answered, "It is you that I must admire.
For you have in your heart
That which I have been seeking and so desire."
I walked away from the man
With far more than I'd had from the start.
I'd found the Spirit of Christmas
In a blind homeless man's eyes and heart.

No.457

View From A Fishbowl

Hello. My name is Goldfinger. I am The Pointmeister's goldfish. I like to think that actually, he is my human. I just thought I'd throw that line out there to see if any of you took the bait. Pardon the aqua-humor. You see, most of the time he tends to look at the world through a fish bowl. If you think some of his views are rather distorted, you will know how I feel when he neglects to change my water.

Sometimes when he is busy fishing for ideas, I swear that sucker is on the wrong end of the pole! You should be on my side of the bowl when he decides to look at the world through my world. Imagine a large proboscis looming in front of you framed by a pair of bloodshot beady eyes. Imagine those same eyes penetrating, nay violating your very thoughts! Then there he is, inside my head, pilfering ideas born of my own mind.

Before you can say filet of sole, right there on the screen my philosophies, observations, and deepest thoughts are displayed for all the world to see. Obviously my limited physiology, pectoral and lateral fins, prevent me from transferring my thoughts to the screen. Ergo, I must take solace in the fact that through him my musings leave this myopic finite world of mine. Only through this quid pro quo relationship are you air-breathers allowed to see the world from this unique perspective.

I have a problem with the cuisine that is provided me. Does he think I am stupid? I know that stuff he sprinkles in here is the dehydrated scales of my brethren. I am forced into cannibalism. The only other option I am given is to starve. As for refreshments, I can only drink myself out of house and home.
....That brings me to the reason that I have taken the helm for this publication. I had an epiphany just yesterday - Liquid Cereal! The Pointmeister might get the credit for this Blog, but he won't get his greedy digits on this product. I have already applied for the patent and the copywright. I am salivating already just thinking of Froot Loops and milk broken down into a healthy fortified meal, made especially for captive fishes. Yummy!

I know I am no brain sturgeon, but I needed the capital and borrowed some fins from a loan shark. Of course, if I don't pay him back on time, my bass is grass somewhere up the pike! My porpoise is to make Liquid Cereal a whale of a success. Wait and see, I will become the starfish of this blog.

No.456