Writer's Post: Stirring The Pot

This weeks Writer's Post topic is "Stirring the Pot." Here is my take on the matter.

Have you ever been cooking when suddenly you have to run to the bathroom? You tell your husband or kids to stir the pot, but do they? Noooo. By the time you're no longer indisposed, the soup has either boiled onto the stove or is crusted on the bottom. When this happens the results are two fold. If you're lucky, you're eating burnt food and scraping the bottom of the pan for an hour or so. But if you're unlucky, three firetrucks come tearing down the street with their sirens screaming and the neighbors peeking out their windows. 

So why is it people never listen to Mom and stir the pot? It's a national tragedy! In fact, I'll bet if you counted the number of times firetrucks–What? What's that you say? Figurative meaning, not literal meaning? 

B*tch!

Silly Sunday: The Blonde Mortician

 

A man who just died is delivered to a local mortuary wearing an expensive, expertly tailored black suit.

The female blonde mortician asks the deceased's wife how she would like the body dressed.  She points out that the man does look good in the black suit he is already wearing.

The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit.  She gives the blonde mortician a blank check and she says, "I don't care what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing."

The woman returns the next day for the wake.  To her delight, she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly.

She says to the mortician, "Whatever this cost, I'm very satisfied. You did an excellent job and I'm very grateful.  How much did you spend?"  To her astonishment, the blonde mortician presents her
with the blank check.

  "There's no charge," she says.

  "No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit!" she says.

"Honestly, ma'am," the blonde says, "it cost nothing.  You see a deceased gentleman of about your husband's size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked nice."

  "So I just switched the heads."

Silly Sunday: Jokes

Every Sunday, my good friend and former college roommate Rhonda sponsors Silly Sunday over at Laugh Quotes. If I could ever figure out how to make linky things work, I'd link it up. Never fear, you can read more jokes by heading over there. Here are a few jokes I've been telling for years.

Three boys had a contest to see who could throw a brick the highest. The first boy tosses the brick into the air. It flies high and comes down. The second little guy throws the brick into the air, it soars even higher then tumbles to the ground. Now the third boy, he stretches, swings his arms, and throws the brick so high that it never comes down.

☺☺☺☺☺☺

Two morons meet each other while walking down the street. The first one says, "Hey! If you can tell me how many chickens I have in this bag, I'll give you both of them."

"Three!"

"No fair! You peeked."

☺☺☺☺☺☺

A man and woman were fighting while riding on a train. The man smoked a cigar while the woman held a yappy dog.

"Put that noxious cigar out. I can't breathe in here," the woman said.

 "Well, I can't think with that annoying mutt's nonstop yelping!"

 "He's barking because he doesn't like the smell of your smoke!"

This scene went on and on until another passenger stood up and said, "Stop it! I can't stand the cigar, the dog, nor your constant bickering." He then grabbed the dog and the cigar and tossed them both out the window.

When the passengers arrived at the station, the dog was waiting. Can you guess what he had in his mouth?


  

Wait for it.....

A little longer

  

                     

I know the suspense is killing you.

So I'll just have to just tell you.

A Brick

☺☺☺☺☺☺

Writer's Post: Holiday Traditions

Ever wonder what Jews do on Christmas? Years ago we escaped to Cancuun, but unfortunately this didn't become our holiday tradition. After all, traditions must happen yearly.

Then there were the years we dined on Chinese food, since these are the only restaurants open on Christmas Eve. This too did not become our holiday tradition because we don't do this consistently every year.

Starry Nights

If tradition means doing something annually, it looks like we've found one. For the past three years or so, we've spent Christmas Eve freezing our butts off working the Christmas light show at Shelby Farms. Although we're in the south where one can wear T-Shirts in early December, something happens around December 24th as the temperature drops that one night we're working outside. It's our own slice of h*ll, but it's only fair since we don't have to lug heavy trees into our dens or risk our lives on ladders while hanging Christmas lights.

We have our own holiday that doesn't ask for much: Hannukkah, Channuka, Hanukkah, Chanukah. We celebrate the miracle of one bottle of oil lasting eight days. I have Crisco in my pantry that's lasted anywhere from eight months to eight years. Maybe we should celebrate it too... or throw it out. Actually, the oil might be one of the younger items in our closet. Which reminds me of my mother.

Mom had a lonely pickle in a jar sleeping in the back of our fridge for years.  My friends and I used to entertain ourselves by going through her refrigerator and laughing at the mold. Who knows? Maybe something in her fridge was from the holidays.

Silly Sunday: Why Dinosaurs are Extinct

The first senior moment!!!

And that's what happened to the dinosaurs.

#GBE2: Balance

I don't have great balance. In fact, if a cop pulled me over, I might get arrested if they asked me to walk a straight line, even if sober. It's just that balance has never been one of those natural tasks for me.

When I was a Girl Scout, our troop performed a dance in which we jumped through sticks. Being uncoordinated, the leader stuck a grass skirt around my waist and had me wave my arms like a hoola girl. Everyone was jealous that I got that job. Let's hear it for clumsiness!

Way back when, I took taek won do and actually developed some balance. Then I got pregnant, and it was gone. I've never found it again.

Oh. You mean we're supposed to write about having a balanced life? Balancing everything we have to do? Heck! I can't even balance my check book. And as for the serious side of balance, my life is so out of balance, it would make my dancing look good!

Wordless Wednesday: Why Women Live Longer Than Men

 

Any questions?

Silly Sunday: Pole Dancer?

If you saw a kid draw this, what would you think?

We've all heard that the truth is stranger than fiction.

Here is a picture that a little girl drew at school and the note that her mother sent to the teacher in an effort to explain that things are not as they appear.

Yeah, right lady. We know what you do. ;)

Dear Mrs. Jones,
     I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer. I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit. I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it. Her picture doesn't show me dancing around a pole. It's supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot. From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Smith

Funny post? If so, click here. Thanks!

Mom's Revenge

For those who remember my last week's Wordless Wednesday post, Jo suggested I do the same to my kids' pictures. However, I didn't have to do much, they'd already done it to themselves.

Miami, Florida 1949

We've all heard of visits from spirits. This actually happened in my family, and here's photographic proof. My youngest daughter accompanied my parents on their honeymoon in 1949!

Super Dan

The Jolly Green Giant and Smurfs have nothing on this character. Watch Daniel flex his muscles for the blue ray. When he was in preschool, I used to pin pillowcases to his back so he could run around saving the world. Not much has changed.

Six Eyes

Sweet Judy would never alter her Mom's picture and had nothing to do with last week's post, but I wouldn't want her to feel left out, so here is six eyes--no multiple personality disorder here.

Roommates: The Good, The Bad, and The Funny #AtoZ

When a kid goes off to college for the first time, there's no telling what one will find in a roommate. They could be placed with my first roommate, a junior whose parents couldn't afford to get her a single, so she pretended to live alone by ignoring me, or my daughter's first: Miss I-Know-This-Room-Set-Up-Gives-Me-More-Space-Than-You-But-I-LIKE-IT. This spoiled brat placed her bed in the center of the tiny room and refused to move it until my daughter did the same with her bed, thus blocking all floor space in the room. To get to the other side, you pole vault! By the time they parted, the relationship had escalated to rabid shouting matches.

Then there's the disaster when my poor 19 year-old niece had a bizarre 32 year-old placed in her suite. "Mom" was into everyone's business, except her own.

Out of all my roommates, one of my best and most memorable was Rhonda. You can meet her at http://www.laugh-quotes.com and just imagine how much fun we had living together. I already told you about the present I gave her (P post), but I bet most don't know about how she inspired me to write an outstanding paper for my English class.

The teacher had assigned us to complete a "how to" paper where we gave details on how to do something. At first I was torn about what to write, so Rhonda and I brainstormed various "how to" topics. Rhonda came up with the idea of "How to be a slob?"

I said, "Well, Rhonda, you're so good at it, why don't you tell me?"

She said, "I'll do better than that, I'll show you."

Next I knew, Rhonda and I were in each others drawers throwing each others clothing into the air and covering our floor with various objects. A crowd had gathered outside our room staring at "Girls Gone Mad." As we laughed hysterically people asked, "What are they doing?"

Needless to say, I wrote a great paper on "How To Be A Slob." I think I even got an A. Thanks, Rhonda!

Of course one poor sock, never found its mate, so we tacked it to the wall with a wanted poster:

WANTED

 One Mate

Must be blue, single or unattached.

Holey socks need not apply.

 

I think it went to its grave without a partner. :(

Please check Rhonda's blog out at http://www.laugh-quotes.com. She's hysterical! And tune in tomorrow for letter S. You just might learn how to make it snow in warm weather.

I'm Going To Be A Millionaire!

I'm going to be rich. How do I know? It's simple. Everyday Publisher's Clearing House sends me an e-mail and tells me so. Today's latest says, "There will definitely be a major prize winner in the Memphis area." With only a million people, it's got to be me! But here's more exciting news. My prompt entry will also activate a chance for me to win a life-changing $10,000,000.00 SuperPrize from Giveaway No. 1400. 

Now wait a minute? Wasn't 1400 the prize they said I'd win last year? Surely they wouldn't write it if it weren't true. Plus, I've received those notes that say someone with the initials JL is a winner. Yep! No doubt about it; I'm going to win.

I can see it now. The Prize Patrol drives down my block and rings the bell sometime after I get home from work. We know the moment, I've removed that uncomfortable piece of ladies lingerie. After all, we must free those puppies. Anyway, the doorbell rings and the television cameras show me jumping up and down on NATIONAL TV. Wow! Uh, err, maybe I should put the bra back on.

Funny Scenes in Every Day Life

After I ventured into the restroom at Cosco, I headed out with a great new idea for a comedy scene that I've since added to my work in progress (WIP). It all began when I stuck my hands into the automatic hand dryer, and I thought what would that goofy kid Slater do with this device? Next I knew, I was laughing out loud at my keyboard.

The $1,000,000 question: Do you think my scene is funny?

“Cool, Knob! Look at this.” He pointed to an automatic hand dryer with two silver slabs that faced each other. The top part had a section that curved outward to allow room for a guy to stick his hands inside. A bright yellow line did a crappy job at trying to make the machine pretty.

Slater lowered his hands into the drying machine and caused a deep swooshing sound to fill the bathroom. The motor yelled so loud, I could barely hear him speak.

“What if a guy’s hands don’t fit in this thing? I mean if he weigh six-hundred pounds or something, his fat hands ain’t fitting in here!”

“Not many people weigh six-hundred pounds.”

“But what if he some sumo wrestler or a super hero? Some guy with big old hands that wrestle alligators; he gots to dry his hands too!”

“Maybe there’s a way to push these panels out.” I patted the bottom of the machine for some sort of lever but didn’t find anything. That wasn’t good enough for Slater. He lifted his hands out, leaped onto the floor, and nosed up under the dryer. I couldn’t help but think of all the dirt on a bathroom floor.

“The floors filthy. Get up.”

Slater ignored me. “Here it is.” He flipped some kind of switch and the panels spread outward.

“I need it to dry my hands. Hope it still works.” I lowered my fingers into the dryer. Even though the panels were further apart, my hands got dry. I just had to move them around more. After I pulled them out, I rubbed the back of my dry hands.

“Hey, Knob. Watch this.” Slater lifted himself to his knees and put his head into the machine. The engine roared and noisy air shot out of the panels. The skin on Slater’s cheeks wiggled back and forth like a bulldog shaking loose jowls. As Slater giggled, he must have hit something because the panels moved inward and snapped. Slater tried to move his head out of the machine.

“It stuck, Knob. I is stuck!” As Slater opened his mouth, the dryer caught his spit and sent droplets catapulting across the bathroom floor. The inside of his cheeks ballooned out wide enough to use his face as a parachute and his eyes squinted to keep the air out. A smoky smell filtered from the machine. “Find a knob, Knob. Get me out of here!”

“Let me get help.”

“No-o-o! Some manager dude come in here and he yell!” Slater must have shouted so he could be heard over the roaring motor. “Look below! There a lever down there. Pop it!”

As much as I hated being on that dirty floor, I got on my knees and looked around for the lever. Finally I found it and freed Slater. When he stood up, his cheeks glowed red and his once centered Mohawk had shifted to the left side so that it shot out of his head like a one horned elk. Singed hair lined the tip of his Mohawk.

I hope someone will find this scene funny; but if not, I had a blast writing it!