Welcome to my humor blog where I offer my take on: Life - that crazy stuff that happens on the way to your dreams *** Liberty - to Snippet on any subject that pops into my brain *** and the Pursuit of Happiness - both yours and mine.

If your funny bone's been tickled, why not share with a friend? It might be just what they need to brighten their day.

Friday, November 29, 2013

The Black Friday Blues

It’s been an interesting ten days. The pre-sale Black Friday (BF) e-mail specials started rolling in on the 19th of November. Sixty-eight of them accumulated in my delete file by this morning. Not too bad. The lady on the news said she'd received over one hundred of them. Guess I’m ahead of the game.
Some of the online BF sales sounded pretty good. Amazon had 40% off books like The 5 Dysfunctions of a Team. Could’ve  come in handy at the family dinner gathering. However, Wine for Dummies had more potential to get me through the day. 
I considered redeeming the coupon for the local Big Box Booze store, but $30 to $50 for a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon didn’t seem like much of a sale. I lean towards the $16.99 Buckhorn Bourbon. More bang for the ‘buck’ and great paired with the Groupon Coupon for the set of four Mason jar shot glasses for only $9.99.
My in-box had BF sale enticements for everything from motivational webinars trying to motivate me to buy motivational seminars, to duplicate checks with my family photo or Disney characters printed on it…which ever looked less scary.
Best Buy almost had me with their “Mystery Door Buster” offer. The catch was, the only way I could find out what mystery items were on sale was to go into the store on Thanksgiving night after 8pm. However, if I wanted a sneak-preview of the items, I could check online after 10pm, to see what was on sale earlier that evening. I got confused and forgot about the whole idea.
Did I forget to mention that Thanksgiving morning the paper on my driveway was almost two inches think (I measured)? Nope, it wasn’t the newspaper, it was the stack of BF sale fliers. There were ads for some stores I’d never even heard of, much less seen around here.
Admittedly, there were great deals on items that were difficult to pass up. I could have opted for an $850.00 toilet & sink set, or taken $30.00 off an automotive battery. Hold me back. Some music store thought sending me five fliers would be enough to brainwash me into buying a seven piece drum ensemble or a mini recording studio in a box. It didn’t work.
There was a weak moment when I almost gave in. The Macy's sale flier was the clincher. The lure of finding boots for $29.99 or cashmere sweaters for only $39.00 nearly put me over the edge. But I managed to control myself and bypass all the BF sales.
 What saved me from all this madness was the news. Footage of people camping out in pup tents in the freezing cold to be the first one through the doors when they opened,  lines a half mile long to get into the stores, masses of humanity clawing their way through store aisles, knocking over displays and each other was too traumatic for me
I stayed in, cleaned house and did laundry instead. Guess some Fridays can be Black even if you don’t shop the sales. Sigh.

Monday, November 25, 2013

The Turkey Trot

Brace yourself. The average person consumes 4,500 calories on Thanksgiving Day. I find this most disturbing.
Who can resist all the scrumptious food-stuffs we stuff in our faces on that one special day?  I know I can’t.  But according to one chart I read, I’d have to walk 70 miles to burn off all those delicious calories. At the rate I walk, I might make it by the time my first grandchild graduates college.   
Maybe I’ll sacrifice eating those tempting dishes like yams smothered in pecan crunch topping, booze soaked cranberries, bacon infused stuffing or triple chocolate pie with real whipped cream and shaved chocolate swirls on top. Nawww … ain’t gonna happen.
I’d rather pass on Aunt Jean’s sautéed beets &broccoli mélange or cousin Harriet’s mincemeat & allspice pie.  

It’s comforting to know I’m not alone when it comes to Turkey Day indulgence. The line outside Curves on Friday morning is longer than the one in front of Macy’s. Guess misery loves company.
My husband, Garth, he of super will-power, started his preparations for the calorie laden feast weeks ago. He’s existed on broth and water and scheduled a colonoscopy two days before Thanksgiving.  What a guy!
I’ve made no such plan. Instead, I’m going to be thankful for all that deliciousness, dig in and eat ‘til I drop into a tryptophan coma.
The way I figure it, I’ve got two ways to burn off all that food. I can make a mad dash from the table at 6:00 pm, when Walmart opens its doors, and fight the Black Friday crowd for all the hot holiday bargains or I can restrict my feasting to 200 calories, which is about the distance I can cover in an hour of walking.
Pass the celery, please.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Copious Catalogs

I’m nervous. It’s not even turkey time and I have over thirty holiday gift catalogs stacked on my table. These things reproduce faster than fruit flies. Last week my mailbox was stuffed so tight I had to use a crowbar to extract a single item. Yesterday I lined it with Vaseline so I can slide those suckers out in one motion.
I felt sorry for my mailman until he told me he gets a group discount on hernia surgery from hauling all those catalogs for two months.
What I can’t figure out is why I get so many. I haven’t ordered something from a catalog since Sears quit mailing them to your home.
More puzzling …why am I compelled to look through each one?  Must be the neighbor’s- house-for-sale-look-ee-loo factor. You know you’re not gonna buy it but can’t resist looking to see if they have something in there better than you do.
Some of the catalogs I get are really weird. Like the one that has a Dungeons & Dragons chess set made from something that resembles bone fragments, chiseled stone gargoyle book ends and toothpick holders disguised as swords.
I once used a catalog to buy a pocket knife for my hubby, Garth. Big mistake.  Now I’m on the mailing list for catalogs like Moose Hunter Outfitters and Fisherman’s Fatigues. However, I did think the rubber one-piece jumpsuit and wader boots combo was kind of kinky.
Catalog prices are outrageous, too. Does anyone really need a fruit basket of six hard oranges and a dozen figs for $85.00 plus shipping? And what about the catalogs selling resort wear clothing? Do they really think I’d spend $72.00 for a polyester muumuu when I can buy two for $9.95 from any newspapers’ insert ads? Get real.
I think these companies need to save a forest and switch to internet-only catalogs. Although, I’ll be the first to admit, squinting at a computer screen for seven hours a day trying to Christmas shop is not my idea of a good time.
Truth be told, there’s nothing quite like thumbing through reams of catalogs, feeling sheets of thick paper ripple between my fingers, staring at glossy colored pictures of cashmere sweaters, velvet dresses and Victoria’s real secrets, to get the ole shopping juices flowing.
So go ahead, make my day. Sign me up for all those catalogs.  When the holiday hoopla is over, they make great bird cage liners.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Luv U...and Goodbye

Has anyone noticed the phrase “Love You” seems to have replaced the word “goodbye” in the English language?  Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear I hear those two little words used for parting greetings wherever I go.

Lady to esthetician after Brazilian waxing, “Looks great. See you next time. Love you.”
Man to coach after kid’s soccer game, “Great game. See you next time, Bro. Love you.”
While it’s great to love thy neighbor as thyself, I don’t think I’m ready to verbalize that love to the entire world. Sort of loses its meaning in translation.
“Yes, doctor, I drank thirty seven gallons of prep juice and I’m ready for my colonoscopy.  And one more thing before you put me under and probe my interior with that fifty foot roto-rooter…Love You.”
Call me crazy, but I have to wonder where this “Love You” thing is headed if goodbye is banned from the dictionary.
 “Thanks for being a valued customer of Never Works Cable Company, Mr. Smith.  I’m happy we were able to solve your sixteen hour connection problem. If we can help in the future, don’t hesitate to call us. Love You.”
Let’s face it. If we don’t get control of tossing this expression of affection around so casually, where will it all end?
“Attention Super Store Shoppers!  Don’t miss our special in aisle three - buy one can of peas and get six for free. Thanks for shopping with us today. Love You.”
Next time you’re out and about, listen for people loudly expressing love through their cell phones, across parking lots or when leaving restaurants. Then tell me it’s a figment of my imagination.
I may be old fashioned but I think the “Love You” endearment has more impact written on a card tucked in an unexpected bouquet of roses, scribbled on a Christmas present tag or uttered as a breathless whisper in the clinches.
Still, I don’t want to seem unemotional, insensitive, or hardhearted.
So, in closing, may I say, “Thanks for reading. Love You.”

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

The Mannogram

As my annual mammogram approaches, I can’t help but ponder how different this test might be if a man had to have his parts squeezed between two x-ray plates.
“Okay, Sir, take everything off from the waist down and put on this dressing gown, open in the front. Bring your wallet with you. Yes, sir, I realize there aren’t any pockets in the gown. You’ll just have to carry the wallet. Yes, I know that might be a bit difficult while you’re trying to hold the front of the gown shut, but it’s necessary for security purposes. When you’re ready, have a seat on that chair and I’ll call you as soon as I can. Yes, sir, it could be a bit drafty, but I’ll try to get to you shortly.”
 “Mr. Jones, you’re next. So sorry for the wait. That’s true. I’m sure twenty five minutes seemed like a long time to sit on a cold chair wearing only a flimsy gown, but there are many mannograms scheduled today and we’re doing the best we can.”
“Please put your wallet down over there and stand in front of the x-ray machine for an adjustment. No,sir. I mean adjustment of the machine…to the proper height. Keep your arms at your side, stand straight. Just relax, Mr. Jones. I’m going to lower the machine now so it’s positioned properly.”
“Ready? Here we go. Lowering…a bit lower…oh my…lower still. Wow!  I mean, good, it’s in position.”
“Can you stand bit closer, please? Thank you. Now I’m going to pull and stretch to be sure we get a good shot of the glandular material. Oops, sorry. Did that hurt? I’ll try to be more gentle,  but I need to be sure I get a clear shot of all that dense tissue. We don’t want to have to re-take the photos, now do we?
“Okay, perfect. Now here’s what will happen. The plates are going to lower and compress your…things. It might pinch a bit and you could experience slight discomfort from the pressure of the plates smashing your…errr…as the x-ray plates compress. But it shouldn’t be too painful.”
“Ready to go, Mr. Jones. Please don’t move while I duck behind the lead lined radiation protective wall. What’s that? Oh no, Sir. I assure you there’s no reason for alarm. The radiation zap will not cause any harm or dysfunction…at least I don’t think so.
“Hold your breath…don’t move…one, two, three – done. You can exhale now and I’m going to turn your…I’m going to re-position things to get another view.”
“Let me just twist this a bit to the left…excellent. Hold your breath again, Mr. Jones.  What’s that? You already were? No need to do that prematurely, Sir. Just wait until I’m finished.”
 “Taking the picture now.  Exhale. That’s it, Mr. Jones. A photo finish! That wasn’t so bad, was it? What? Oh, yes. The redness is perfectly normal and the soreness should dissipate within a few hours. You did a great job, Mr. J. see you next year.”
Yep, I’m convinced. If men had to get their stuff squished on an annual basis, I’d bet a new procedure would be developed within a week.  I just wish some inventor would bite the bullet and give a mannogram a try.  If for no other reason than to report to other inventors to get the show on the road and come up with something better.

 I’m sure I speak for every woman on the planet when I say, “We’re waiting.”