Tag: humor

Shopping Online for Motorcycle Pants

Studly Doright and I are gearing up for our annual motorcycle trip scheduled for the 21st of June. We’re planning on trailering our bikes out to this year’s destination, Springdale, Arkansas, rather than riding them due to time constraints.

June is one of Studly’s busiest months at work, and not only do we have the bike trip in the works, but a Doright family reunion the week before. Poor guy is having trouble keeping his sanity while I can only act as his sexy support crew. It’s a tough job, but I’m well qualified.

I haven’t ridden my motorcycle in ages, and the last time I did so I remember being unable to zip my riding pants due to, well, accumulations of fatty tissue in the waist area. I tried the pants on a few minutes ago and found the gap between button and buttonhole even wider. Damn.

Apparently, though, Studly is in the same gravy boat, so here we are shopping online for riding pants that fit our expanded sillouhuettes. For him it’s easy. Men’s sizes are plentiful and assume that the wearer is going to be at least 5’8″. 

Women’s sizes are a different matter, though. Apparently someone hasn’t informed the motorcycle industry that woman come in all sizes; we are not all 5 feet, 2 inches weighing 100 lbs.  

I googled “women’s mesh motorcycle pants, tall.” Now I just want to know in what universe 31.5 inches is considered a tall inseam? Honestly?!  Finally I found a pair of riding pants that might fit, if I cut a couple of inches off of my legs. There’s nothing quite so appealing as a pair of motorcycle pants that strike mid-calf.

Motorcycle Superstore had a style I’ll try. My fingers are crossed that they’ll fit. stay tuned for a review. And maybe tears.

Not me.

Cooking for Studly May Update

A couple of folks have inquired as to whether I am still cooking meals for Studly Doright. Why, yes. Yes, I am.

Studly Doright remains among the living
Even after all of my cooking.

Some nights I create minor miracles
Other nights we survive on cereals.

Still, I miss the cool days of winter
When I could just serve soup for dinner.

Tonight I’m serving veggies and roast
They smell pretty great and that’s no boast.

Let’s raise a glass to good home cooking
But I dropped the roast when he wasn’t
looking.

shhhhhh!

  
Peace, people!

AARP

Fifty, in spite of what my younger friends have heard is not a terrible age. In fact, the half century mark has certain perks, not the least of which is being eligible for membership in the American Association of Retired People.

I’ve now been an AARP member for eight and a half years, and my membership includes discounts on hotels nationwide, great rates on insurance, and a voice in political issues that affect those of us past the child-bearing age.

Studly is a member, as well, and apparently he just renewed our dues because I received this gift in the mail today from the good folks at AARP.

  
I’m not sure what this is.  A carrier for my Depends undergarments? (which, by the way I do NOT wear. Yet.) A miniature backpack? A fanny pack? A chastity belt? Bwahaha!!! Although, placed strategically it would certainly prevent any attempts at coitus.

Regardless, it’s a gift. And I continue to brace my “A.A.R.P.ness.” Say that out loud for a giggle.

Peace, people!

Too Much

Studly Doright and I are doing some home improvement projects this spring. His man-cave is approaching completion and we’ve found someone to help turn the area leading up to our front door into a mini courtyard. After that we’ll tackle our back porch which is lovely but almost unusable during the rainy season due to drainage issues.

In preparation for the courtyard project I’ve been browsing Pinterest and wandering around two of the local nurseries looking at paving stones, outdoor seating groups, and large pots and planters. My goal is to make the area pretty and low maintenance.

Even though I’m no gardener I enjoy trips to the nurseries. There’s such an abundance of colors, textures, and scents. And ornamental junk. Lots of ornamental junk.

  
Now, I have nothing against ornamental junk. I can see me owning a metal rooster or an ornate concrete birdbath. The problem is that I’m not sure if I’d know when to stop. 

  
Could I draw the line at one rooster or would I need a dozen metal hens and a few chicks to add to the display? If I buy the concrete birdbath do I then follow up with a concrete bench, a concrete fairy, a pair of concrete children reading a concrete book, and an array of concrete stepping stones?

  
We’ve all seen those yards that have so many little animals or whirlybirds or garden gnomes that one cannot even see the lawn or the front door. Who is to say that one lone rooster won’t lead to an entire flock?

Studly assures me he won’t let it come to that. Oh, look! A metal dolphin!

Peace, people!

Speaking of Festivals

Recently I wrote about attending the annual Mayhaw Festival in Monticello, Florida, and my general love of quaint all-American festivals. KH, the older of my two younger brothers did some research for me and discovered not one, not two, but five festivals celebrating (ta-da!) testicles!

What do you think? Which one provides the greatest opportunity for me to be named Ms. Testicle? My personal favorite is the one where you can “Come have a ball with Jesus!” Read on:

The following material can be found on guycodeblog.mtv.com; Author NEAL STASTNY (@NEALSTAS) IS A COMEDIAN AND WRITER IN NEW YORK.

1. Testy Festy

Testy Festy, held every year in Clinton, Montana, features wet T-shirt contests, the Undie 500 (men and women race tricycles in their underwear) and even a big ball contest for guys who aren’t scared to drop trou…and aren’t scared of that deep-fryer.

2. Olean Testicle Festival

What began as a small gathering of family and friends in Olean, Missouri, now provides thousands of people with their testicle fix. The event features live music and a “motorcycle burn-out contest.” There’s no better way to spend an afternoon than by hanging with bikers and eating testicles.

3. Texas Testicle Festival

If the other two festivals too secular for you, then try the Texas Testicle Festival, where the motto is “Come Have a Ball With Jesus.” The event, started by real-life cowboys, features a ball-eating contest, gospel music, a roping contest and a church service. It’s hard to get more American than cowboys, religion and fried food.

4. Tiro Testicle Festival

This festival, held every year in Tiro, Ohio‘s Tiro Tavern, is a little smaller than the others, so it’s perfect for someone who wants to celebrate testicles but avoid the crowd.

5. Oakdale Testicle Festival

To separate itself from the other testicle festivals, this one in Oakdale, California (“Cowboy Capital of the Word”), lets festival-goers select the slogan. This year’s was “30 Years And Still Hangin!” Is your testicle pun good enough for 2014?

  

Peace, people!

World’s Most Pitiful Garage Sale

Our little neighborhood of Lake Yvette planned a community garage sale for this fine Saturday morning. Eagerly I joined the ranks of those willing to participate. Gamely I priced some of the treasures (junk) that we moved from Illinois to Florida a little over a year ago. 

I’d forgotten that the roofers were coming this morning. They were supposed to have come on Thursday, but we had rain so they rescheduled. Now there are nail guns hammering to the mind-numbing tune of an air compressor, not to mention a truck partially blocking my driveway.

Here I sit, surrounded by treasures (junk). People stop and look for a few minutes before saying something like, “How do you stand this racket?” 

I answer, “Huh?”

Then they leave. 

I’ve taken in $3. My portion of the ad was $10. My signs cost $7. Only $14 until I break even.

Peace, people!

Oh, Studly Doright is on the golf course, I get 100% of the profits. How much is 100% of nothing?

Past Life

I was a cat

In a prior life

Of this I am

Certain.

I can sleep for

Hours.

Love napping in the

Sun.

I’ll allow a little 

Petting

Just don’t get too

Rough.

My claws are

Sharp, but I keep them

Sheathed

Don’t annoy me

Too much or 

I might show my

Teeth.

No one knows my

Thoughts;

Those I keep

Hidden

Behind my Mona Lisa

Smile

I’m still just a

Kitten.

  

Class

Some of yous got it,

Some of yous ain’t

Trouble is yous that ain’t got it

Ain’t aware of that state.

Now lookahere friend

I knows what I gots

I’m one classy broad

The rest of yous ain’t snot.

I started writing this poem on a whim, and all of a sudden I found myself humming one of my favorite songs from the movie, Chicago. Queen Latifah and Catherine Zeta Jones–two classy dames lamenting the end of good manners:

http://youtu.be/SWrQ3FwlzAY

(Be sure to click on the link above.)

Invisible

Nationwide Insurance airs a commercial in which actress Mindy Kaling comes to the conclusion that she is invisible because she feels that way much of the time.

In restaurants servers walk right by her. On the sidewalk she goes unnoticed. In the course of the advertisement Mindy embraces her invisibility and begins to take advantage of it (see photo below).

With many folks this theme won’t resonate at all, but I totally get it. I’m the woman who after being seated at a table in a cafe will eventually have to flag down a waiter, who’ll then say, “oh, I didn’t see you sitting over there.”

Hello?! I’m five feet, eight inches tall and have bright red hair. How can someone not see me?

And I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve checked in with the receptionist at the salon or the doctor’s office or the auto dealership only to sit for an hour or more before someone notices me and says, “Oh, Ms. Noyes, have you been here all this time?”

I guess I am partly responsible for my invisibility. The minute I’m seated out comes my book and the world around me disappears. Apparently, so do I.

In the Nationwide ad Mindy finally gets noticed by a bulked up basketball player when she shamelessly fondles his bicep. I wonder how long I could get away with a stunt like that if I kept my nose in a book? It might be worth a try.

“Invisible Mindy” helps herself to ice cream

Peace (and notice me) People!