CATCH MY WORDS to find help with teaching strategies, resources, or to enjoy a laugh or music. Blog connected to Catch My Products, the gifted department store with resources for K - 12.
Catch My Products
Click on the image to visit Catch My Products.
My humorous thoughts about life.
"My Humorous and Helpful Thoughts About Teaching / Educational Resources for Your
Classroom / Music and Random Fun"
We recited that promise before every meeting, yet I doubt if any of us truly knew the meaning of what we were saying.
Honor means to fulfill an obligation when used in this context, but to a kid it means squat. Kids hear about "Honor Roll," that certificate one gets when achieving high grades, or calling a judge "your honor," but what is "on my honor" to a kid? Is that like sitting on a high bench like a judge or meaning you promise to make high grades. Reciting "On my honor" could have been the same as talking about cadavers–beyond kid vocabulary.
When saying I'd do my duty, I always got a chuckle because it sounded like going doo doo. I wonder if any other Girl Scouts giggled over that one. I never even knew what my duty was, so why promise it?
Doing doo doo to God sounds ominous, whereas Doo doo to my country sounds like I'm gonna fight a war. Yep! Little innocent children carried bombs to soldiers during Vietnam. I'm glad us green skirted girly girls weren't called upon to "do our duty." If we're not talking war time, how does a little girl "do duty to her country?"
"Helping other people" sounds like a keeper phrase, but at all times? What if the adult doesn't want help? What if the little girls just get in the way? Is it really necessary to help other people at all times?
Finally, we promised to obey the Girl Scout laws. What the heck were those laws? I don't think I ever knew.
Since this little promise is pointless, I'm going to present my own.
I promise
to try
to listen to the troop leaders
and not be a brat at meetings,
to help other people when they want my help,
and to learn the Girl Scout Laws.
Then I'll find the lameness of them too and have more fun.
Hello, Readers. Sorry I'm a bit late with my Silly Sunday post. I'm in New York for my niece's wedding. I'm having a great time visiting with relatives and gathering new silliness for future posts. Remind me to tell you about Anna and the frogs. Until then, here's a fun YouTube video that you're sure to enjoy. Then we're off to West Point. Maybe I can get my daughter to transfer there. Now that's funny!
What's funny about aromas? Nothing, but head into a Bath and Body Works and you might find some humor in what they name their fragrances. I can only guess what these delicious flavors must smell like.
Autumn: This must be a collection of rotted pumpkins or Halloween candy. Put some behind your ears and hope the mosquitoes are gone for the season.
Caribbean Escape: A mixture of sea weed and dead fish with a floral base.
Dark Kiss: The smell of DEATH! Isn't that what Harry Potter's dementors did when they sucked all the joy out of their victims?
Green Grass: Allergy sufferers need to watch out for this one. Guaranteed to make your nose drip and eyes water.
Island Colada: This aroma is only for those of legal age.
Kitchen Lemon: Pucker up because this aroma makes one round those lips... and it's not to whistle.
Sage Cucumber: Really? I never thought to mix sage with cucumbers and then wear it!
and finally...
P.S. I Love You: What would love smell like? Probably the sweetest aroma of all!
This week's challenge is to write two separate, but related pieces. I have chosen a scene from my unpublished young adult manuscript, BEING BOMPSY CARLETTA. For those who don't know, I started this blog because I am an aspiring author. I've written five novels but haven't published any of them. Time to send out some queries.
My first passage is from Fiso Carleffa’s point of view. Fiso is the mob boss father who had recently been united with his fifteen-year-old son after twelve years of believing the kid and his mother had died in a car wreck. The story was originally written in Ben Smith's, aka Bompsy Carleffa’s, first person point of view.
Bompsy's eyes widened then a bewildered expression covered his face. What had his mom been feeding him all these years? Mac and cheese? He didn’t look malnourished, but he certainly wasn’t used to eating gourmet either. “Do you like the gazpacho?” I asked. He dropped his spoon and looked at me like I was feeding him poison. “Eat it. It’s good for you.” I twirled my spoon in a circular motion until he finally took another sip. That's when I realized my own son was afraid of me. I guess I'd screwed up when I ordered his beating, but what else could I have done after he cursed and punched me? I’m his own father and the kid didn’t even know me, nor at least respect me. Gil brought us our pallet cleansers and once again Bompsy scrunched his brows together while staring at the sherbet. “You look confused.” I pointed to Bompsy's plate. “That’s a palate cleanser.” He clearly didn’t understand. “Your mom sure didn’t show you the finer things in life.” How will I ever make this boy feel at home? Maybe I should apologize for the whipping. “Can I be excused?” he said. “Now? You haven’t had dinner.” “I’m not up to eating.” He stared at his hands. Poor kid had chewed his nails off completely. I wanted to spend more time with him, but he obviously couldn’t wait to get away from me. “Very well, but learn to call this home. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll even love me like I love you.” If that boy’s mom lives, it won’t be for long.
Brent Turner
This is how I picture my character Ben/Bompsy, so this young actor can play him if he doesn't have gray hair by the time my book gets published and becomes a movie. The next bit of text is the original wording from my novel. Please read the same scene told from Ben/Bompsy's point of view and hopefully you'll see the humor in it that Fiso didn't catch.
When I sipped the soup, I was shocked. Cold soup? All this money, and these people couldn’t heat the soup.“Do you like the gazpacho?” Fiso asked. I dropped my spoon on the table. Why would he mention the Gestapo? What was he, a modern day Nazi? Sure, doesn’t everyone like murderers? Sick. This guy’s really sick!“Eat it. It’s good for you.” Fiso twirled his spoon in a circular motion.Not wanting another beating, I forced the soup down my throat. I was a spineless wimp doing whatever that Nazi demanded. The soup left a spicy, hot taste in my mouth so I drank more water. Gil put a small scoop of sherbet in front of me. I stared at the lime mound. Dinner must’ve been over since he’d already brought dessert.“You look confused.” Fiso pointed to my plate. “That’s a palate cleanser.” I didn’t get it.
“Your mom sure didn’t show you the finer things in life.”How was this a finer thing? What was I supposed to do with the light green lump? I lifted a small sample to my tongue and choked the sweet, icy food down. My full mind didn’t want to feed my empty stomach. “Can I be excused?”“Now? You haven’t had dinner.”“I’m not up to eating.” I lowered my head and stared at my fingers. I wasn’t a nail biter, yet somehow had chewed my nails down to the pink on the way to St. Louis.“Very well, but learn to call this home. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll even love me like I love you.” Love? How could that monster talk about love? He had his brother kidnap me, Mom killed, and my back scarred, but I was supposed to love him?
If any agents or editors are visiting my blog, BEING BOMPSY CARLEFFA is available for publication, and I will send it to legitimate agencies upon request. I have also written a sequel to this novel and three other original works for children and/or teens, as well as a published story in AppleSeeds magazine. Furthermore, I am an active member of SCBWI and have completed course work at the Institute for Children's Literature.
Here's a response to Dr. Laura Schlessinger that's been circulating the internet since circa May 2000. Unfortunately, the clever author is unknown.
On her radio show, Dr. Laura said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22, and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following response is an open letter to Dr. Schlesinger, written by a US man, and posted on the Internet.
Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.
1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?
2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?
6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination, Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there 'degrees' of abomination?
7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?
8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I'm confident you can help.
Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.
P.S. (It would be a damn shame if we couldn't own a Canadian.)
As I watch the Olympic track stars, I recall my brief brush with victory in an elementary school field day foot race. We gathered at the start of the cross country course at Shaw Park while the gym teacher pointed to the various trees we were to pass. As an active listener, I took careful note of the course then quickly fell into my usual spot of DFL. (For those who are not runners, DFL stands for D%mn F*cking Last).
As the race progressed, I didn't understand why all the other kids were sprinting to the wrong tree. The PE teacher clearly showed us the course, but the girls weren't running it, so I hot footed it to the tree as instructed earlier.
Apparently, the adult at one tree didn't listen as well as I had. He told the lead runner to head to the wrong tree and all the athletes followed her... except for me. I found myself in the lead when the others had to backtrack to the tree they'd skipped. Unfortunately my lack of running skill didn't hold up on a steep hill right before the finish line. The former lead runner, a true athlete, passed me and took first. But hey, I received a second place red ribbon which is more than I'd ever gotten in my turtle-like existence.
In 1972, Dave Wottle was not the only runner to win after starting out in last place!
He opened a box of Mott's Fruit roll ups only to find one Market Pantry pack hiding inside. How does one find a competing Target brand hidden in a sealed package? We didn't even buy the product at a Target store.
Here's my theory: Market Pantry, a Target brand, sells for a lot less than name brand items. Perhaps it's a shrewd marketing trick. Someone tiptoed into the Motts' plant and hid their employer's off brand product in the name brand box. If the consumer eats the Market Pantry brand and finds that it tastes the same or better than the name brand, next time, he or she will switch to the generic product.
I have to wonder how this spy got into the factory. Has this been done before? Ie., Dear Readers, How many of you have ever found an off brand addition hidden in a name brand box? Is this legal?
Or... Maybe it's just a kid playing a prank while visiting his parent's factory.
When a lady visits a new doctor, she recognizes his name as being the same as someone she'd gone to school with; however, this man looks much too old to be the fellow from her class. After much careful consideration, she says, "I think you were in my class."
To which the man replies, "Oh, really. What did you teach?"
Here's a funny clip about a prank on the young whipper snappers.
Maybe I shouldn't admit my Beverly Hillbillies moment. After all, everyone occasionally hears odd beeps or settling in a home. Sometimes these noises can get downright annoying such as the weather radio, that I simply unplug when it buzzes nonstop. Okay, okay, I heard the beeping signaling a storm coming. Now shut up already! My husband gets aggravated at me for unplugging the thing, but at least I'm not running outside with my camera, like someone else I know.
Sometimes we hear a shuffling sound in the walls. It's those stupid squirrels who moved into our attic. They don't even pay rent!
Anyone want to buy a squirrel?
The thing about weather radios and squirrels is they aren't confusing. After all, I know exactly what makes them disturb the peace. Confusing was that occasional beep coming somewhere from the kitchen. Every now and then, I'd hear it and wonder. Finally, I made a comment to my husband, "What is that?"
Mitchell laughed and laughed. It was my new phone. It meant I'd gotten a text message.
Well gahlly! How is ah supposin' to know that?
I tain't never had no smart gizmo befores.
It takes several episodes for Jed and company to figure out where "thet music is a-comin' from" whenever somebody rings their doorbell.
With the doctors having a better lot, who else is going to park here? Nothing else is around. The sign must be to stop those trying to exercise by hiking two blocks to the shopping centerrather than park in that free lot.If people work out, they might get better and not need doctors. Selfish jerks!
I love the unexpected in film, whether it's a nerd in the shower or finding a golden ticket in a Wonka Bar. These are the little things that make movies worth watching because who wants to see the expected?
As a youngster, my family visited a quaint little park called Dog Patch USA, located in the Missouri Ozarks. This closed theme park was based on the L'il Abner comic strip and had a cute hillbilly charm about it. I don't remember much at my young age, but I'll never forget the unexpected when opening the door to the men's restroom. I would have used the ladies' room, but a sign told me it was out of order. When I opened the door, a deep voiced man sitting on the pot screamed, "Close the dang door! Doesn't anyone have any decency around here?" Turns out the unexpected man was a statue with a taped message sure to scare the pee out of anyone looking for a restroom. So Dogpatch!
Years later, I remember the unexpected in college. I don't know why the full length poster of George Michael hanging in my room was unexpected because I'm the one who taped it to the dang wall to begin with; however, he scared the begeeze out of me when I spied him standing over my bed in the middle of the night. Little did I know back in the eighties, that handsome man star would have been more interested in my husband than me. Double unexpected.
Now-a-days, the unexpected usually means something bad like the handle falling off the microwave, a tick on the dog, or most recently, a 95 year old man smashing my car door while I shopped inside the target. It's not a good sign to hear over the store speaker, "Will the owner of a black, Volkswagon convertible please come to the service desk?"
It's been two weeks and we're still driving the rental car and waiting for the repairs to be complete. Should it be expected to be without my car for so long? I don't think so. Unexpected was fun as a kid. Now, not so much.
After seeing a headline that made me laugh, I wondered what other ones were out there that could make for good silliness on a Sunday. There are plenty!
I've seen her look better.
Shocker!
I could actually see my city doing this.
Gotta love the obvious.
Good job!
It's Kenny!
How did that happen?
I could hear a kid saying that.
Never make "belittling" remarks to a midget.
And finally, here is the headline that had me laughing hysterically.
The guy can't even be a tourist without making an idiot of himself. I apologize to my British friends for his many gaffs and insults to your country. And I understand our Mid East allies now need an apology too after his visit to Israel. Can you say "Diplomacy FAIL?"
Today I visited the place where connections are made. I waited an hour to be a part of the connection, but that hour went fast because I had Ruta Sepetys' new book "Out of the Easy" about the daughter of a prostitute struggling to escape the New Orleans under world. Although I'm not quite halfway finished, it's already proving to be as amazing as her first book, "Between Shades of Gray." I'm back to revise because of the constant comments about this post, that has nothing to do with the book "Fifty Shades of Gray." Ruta Sepetys did NOT write a sex book. She wrote a young adult historical novel "Between Shades of Gray" that also made the New York Times best seller list. It's about Stalin, not sexual bondage. Yes, I've made a connection with Ruta's book, but that's not the connection I was waiting for.
Finally they brought me into the back office and fitted me into a stunning blue dress. Then the fun began! I placed a part of my anatomy between two plastic plates and finally the two pieces connected with a flat me inside. Until next year...
What are you looking down here for? A picture of me in the machine? Dream on. This is not that kind of humor blog.
What in life has left you breathless? If something did leave you breathless, wouldn't you be, uh, like dead? Living folks are certainly NOT breathless.
I can think of a few situations in which I've left one breathless. Years ago, I took a physiology class where many poor frogs' brains got scrambled by my lab partners. I never pithed a frog because I couldn't bring myself to turn a living creature into a vegetable. As awful as it was for those poor amphibians, one science experiment has stayed with me forever. It left the creature breathless.
Flat Frog Lungs
After pithing the frog, we removed it's lungs and connected them to a compression unit. I believe those flat gray things on the right are lungs; however, they enlarged quadruple the size and became pinkish with a little air pushed into them. Then we'd release the air and watch them deflate leaving the little guy breathless. This, dear readers, is the only time I've left anyone breathless... unless you count the flies I've swatted or spiders I've sprayed with Windex. I'm too scared to get close enough to smash them, so Windex does more than cure pimples.
I've also made myself almost breathless from running or heavy exertion. I remember doing a runners' series years ago. As depicted in the clip below, I felt like the hippo at the end of the stampede scene from Jumanji. Tired I was, but not totally breathless or I wouldn't be writing this post.
See the fat little hippo trailing behind the fast, fit animals?
That's me on the left.
I wonder if I've ever left a reader temporarily breathless when they laughed so hard they couldn't breath. Hopefully, no one died from reading my blog. Then again, if one laughed that hard, one would eventually pass out, pee one's pants, and life would continue. Whew! Dodged that murder rap. Death by surfing. Whether good or bad, shocking events make me breathmore. If someone were to stick a gun to my head, I'd hyperventilate from fear. Then maybe I'd faint, in which case I'd be breathing less than I had before, but I still wouldn't be breathless. Why did the infamous they define "breathless" as short on breath due to excitement or other strong feelings? It doesn't work that way!
If I caught sight of something magnificent, like the Grand Canyon or a snow-capped mountain, once again, I think I'd go into a state of breathmore with the thrill of it all.
The English language is strange in how we define our words. Next time you see something stupendous, think about it. Does it leave you breathless or breathmore?
I love the unexpected in film, whether it's a nerd in the shower or finding a golden ticket in a Wonka Bar. These are the little things that make movies worth watching because who wants to see the expected?
