Tag: humor

Weather Relativity

I live near Tallahassee, Florida. Today I’m out piddling around town until it’s time to check in at the Tallahassee Animal Shelter for my weekly gig as a volunteer kitten cuddler. As you can see from the graphic below, it’s quite cold here today:

  
I just finished enjoying a pastry at a little shop, Au Péché Mignon, and noticed all the shoppers scurrying about outside bundled in their bright fleece jackets and winter boots. 

Just for grins I checked the weather in my daughter’s part of the world:

  
Although north Florida occasionally experiences temperatures in the 30’s, seldom are they recorded as the day’s high. It looks like Rapids City, Illinois, won’t make it out of the thirties today.

You know, I feel just awful for them. 

  
NOT!!!

Peace, people!

Women are from Earth; Men are from Uranus

Studly Doright fell into a deep sleep as soon as the lights went off in Doright Manor last night. In contrast I watched the minutes, then hours, tick by on my Fitbit, practiced coordinating my deep breathing skills with the rise and fall of his snores, and not only counted sheep, but also organized them according to height, weight, and quality of fleece. It was a long night.

Twice during the night I felt the call of nature. Being a considerate woman even in a state of severe sleep deprivation, I carefully slid out from under the covers, making the most minute movements imaginable. With the stealth of a cat I moved through our bedroom and down the hall to access one of the guest bathrooms in order to allow dearest Studly to slumber in peace, undisturbed by the sound of a flushing toilet or running water.

Returning to bed after both trips to the loo I gently eased myself onto the mattress and matched my movements to his snores, pulling the blankets up to my chin in increments of a half millimeter per second. Studly never stirred.

At some point I slept. I know this because I was awakened rudely by Studly who abruptly sat up with a loud grumble-snort-sigh combo, followed by an inelegant roll out of bed, and topped off with a vicious tug of the covers. Granted he couldn’t have known that I struggled with sleeping last night, but geez Louise, he could’ve shown a little respect for the near dead.

I fumed as he showered and readied himself for the day ahead. As Studly noisily fumbled about for his keys and wallet I leaned across his side of the bed to kiss him goodbye. 

Sweetly I asked, “Honey, did I steal the covers last night?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, sounding genuinely puzzled. 

“Then why did you jerk them like a magician pulling the old tablecloth trick?”

“I dunno. Maybe I was looking for a rabbit?”

His humor just barely saved him this time. Grrrrr.

Peace, people.

Laughter

If laughter is the best medicine
then why do doctors prescribe
antibiotics?

And now for your juvenile viewing pleasure, inappropriate humor:

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Have a great evening!

Peace, people!

Undecorating Doright Manor

old me, out of shape
laid low by this holiday
undecorating

  
hips aching, joints creak
too much reaching and bending
Advil take my pain

  
finally finished
celebrate with Shiner Bock
crap! one Santa left

  
I went above and beyond the call of duty today. As a perennial underachiever I don’t say that lightly. Not only did I take down all of my Christmas decorations, but I also organized them, and designated certain pieces for Goodwill and others for the trash. 

I’ve been threatening to do so for the past ten or twelve years, but always managed to talk myself out of it just in time. Now I know why I put off this task for so long. It took me all day and now I hurt everywhere. Apparently I’m not in good enough shape to put away Christmas decorations. That might be the saddest sentence I’ve ever typed. 

Sounds like a great idea for a New Year’s resolution: I resolve to pay someone to do this next year.

Peace, people.

College Football Bowl Games That Should Exist, but Don’t

At this time of year our great country is immersed in college bowl season. I’m a football fan, so bowl games are an essential piece of my holiday puzzle. 

As I typed this I was watching Notre Dame and Ohio State slug it out in the Battlefrog Fiesta Bowl and asking myself a few questions. First, when did Tostitos brand tortilla chips stop sponsoring this bowl game? Tostitos and Fiesta Bowl went together like, well, chips and salsa. Second, who or what on earth is Battlefrog*?

I remember when college bowl games didn’t need corporate sponsors. We simply had the Rose Bowl, Orange Bowl, Sugar Bowl, and Cotton Bowl. That remained the status quo through most of my childhood, but then the number of bowl games proliferated: Tangerine Bowl, Independence Bowl, Sun Bowl, Citrus Bowl, Peach Bowl, and on and on, ad nauseum.

  
Corporations smelling big money began gobbling up sponsorships right and left. Some, like GoDaddy and Belk, even invented their own bowl games. If the sponsorships remained static from year to year they’d be easier to keep track of, but as in the aforementioned Battlefrog Fiesta Bowl, nee Tostitos Fiesta Bowl, the names often change.
  

This year we can watch the Goodyear Cotton Bowl, the Capital One Orange Bowl, and the Allstate Sugar Bowl. Only the Rose Bowl, tastefully presented by Northwestern Mutual, has remained above the fray. I was rooting for the Iowa Hawkeyes in that offering. It didn’t go well. 
I do have one suggestion for future bowl game sponsorship: The corporation’s name/product should fit the bowl game being sponsored. Therefore, I present the following combinations for your consideration:Liquid Plumr Toilet Bowl

Kellogs Cereal Bowl

Martha Stewart’s Decorative Bowl
Chiquita Banana Fruit Bowl
Hawaiian Punch Bowl

Pineapple Express Bong Bowl

Orville Redenbacher’s Popcorn Bowl

Krispy Kreme Dessert Bowl
Peace, people!

*Battlefrog is a televised college competition series, according to Google.

Blank Space

if i were an artist
and this page a canvas
i might simply leave it
just as it is and exclaim,
it is done!
this is it!
i’ll call it
B L A N K S P A C E

curators might declare
my work the best ever done
and offer it at auction for
thousands of dollars,
bidders would clamor to add
B L A N K S P A C E
to their private collections.

but a writer cannot
leave the space blank.
i tried.

and the writer cannot
type
B L A N K S P A C E
on the page because
that defeats the purpose.

it’s a conundrum, really.

  
I need a DIY Abstract Writing Tutorial.

Peace, people!

Things Bill Belichick Would Rather Particpate in Than a Post-Game News Conference

If you aren’t an American football fan you won’t be interested in this post at all. So feel free to tune out, you won’t hurt my feelings. 

Studly Doright and I were snickering while watching New England Patriots’ taciturn coach, the great Bill Belichick at his best/worst during the press conference following a loss to the New York Jets. Our snickers soon turned to a hypothetical, “What would Bill rather be doing right this minute?” 

1) Double dating with Caitlyn Jenner.

2) Enjoying a root canal. Sans anesthesia.

3) Poking knitting needles into his nostrils.

4) Showering with a leopard.

5) Parading naked down 5th Avenue. On a snow day.

6) Apologizing. For anything.

7) Wearing nipple clamps attached to an electric generator.

8) Waltzing with Peyton Manning.

9) Having duct tape ripped off of his privates.

10) Eating raw monkey brains.

Thanks, Bill, for providing our evening’s entertainment.

  

2016

  
I’m working on my resolutions. So far, I’ve written

1) Invent an affordable flying car

2) Take flying car for a spin

That’s about it. Go big or go home, right?

  

Silent Night

  
I went outside last night hoping to snap a picture of the full moon. Surrounded by trees, Doright Manor doesn’t have the best location for moon viewing, full or otherwise, and the clouds added another hindrance. 

The weather, though, was indecently warm for December, even for Tallahassee, Florida–75 degrees and as humid as a sauna. I wore my favorite flip flops and sang Walking in a Winter Wonderland to the neighborhood. No one threw rotten tomatoes, so I broke into Silent Night for an encore. From across the lake someone called, “Please, oh please!” I chose to take that as a request for more.

Peace, people!

Autocorrect Made My Day

Last night I texted my mother-in-law, Saint Helen, and my eldest sister-in-law, Lyn, a photo of one of my Christmas gifts.

  
This was the ensuing conversation:

  
Oh, autocorrect, you made my evening!