Tag Archives: humor

Good Times

Sitting in the break room eating lunch with the girls, I had bought a Kronik low-carb energy drink which I was consuming.  One of them asked why I drank it. I said for energy and because it’s good–tastes like a cross between Fresca and Squirt.  Then she said what’s in it?  I started reading the label.  Taurine, I said.  She said do you know what that is?  I said it’s an amino acid.  She said but do you know what it is?  I said what?  She said bull urine.  I said no way.  She said it’s true!  Then I said no wonder it tastes like Squirt!


My son had donned his long, dangling guitar earrings when his girlfriend came over for the evening.  She and I both had relinquished to watching him play video games until he came to a stopping place where he could save the game.  So we were giving him jabs at every turn, teasing him and ganging up on him.  He was growing impatient with us, whining about not being able to win the battles in the game and blaming us.  I rubbed my fingers together and made a violin noise and said, do you know what this is?  World’s smallest violin…much smaller than your guitar earrings!  His girlfriend asked why it looked like he had mascara on, and he said he had gone to a rock-music show the night before and hadn’t washed it off yet.  So we teased him about that.  One of the characters in the game he was playing was a girl, and my son’s girlfriend said to him, why are you a girl?  I snickered and very quickly she said, in the game, I mean?**********************

My daughter had got herself a tiny little dog, a shit-too or some kind of little breed.  This little dog was a terror on my adult German shepherd, who was as mellow as any dog could be.  Whenever my dog was around, her little puppy jumped and bit and chased my adult dog until my dog tired of the abuse and went upstairs and into my closet.  One day my adult dog was eating her food out of her dish, and my daughter’s little puppy kept jumping up and biting the back legs and tail of my dog while she ate.  At one point the little puppy jumped up, and his nose went directly into my dog’s anus.  He fell back and sat on his haunches, head stiffened way back on his neck, and just stared at the crevice as if to say, what the hell was that??  Then he sneezed a couple times before resuming his abuse, although when he resumed he was careful to stay away from her rear.


A friend of mine came over to watch movies.  We were cracking off one-liners during The Omen in order to lighten the scare factor.  At one point in the movie Damien’s father and the priest were in the graveyard digging up the grave, only to find a jackal instead of a human body in the grave.  Suddenly an evil-looking Rottweiler appeared on the rise just above them.  My friend said, look–it’s Uncle Ted!  Then another Rottweiler appeared, and I said, and Auntie Christ!


I had worked all day in the office and was just finishing up my things to do for the day.  I was walking toward the kitchen when I felt something inside my pant leg by my foot.  I looked down, and something black and shiny was peaking out underneath my pant leg.  I reached down and pulled out a pair of my underwear that apparently had been stuck via static electricity inside my pant leg all day long!


My daughter talks in her sleep.  It’s fun when she’s sleeping on the couch and we hear her, because sometimes we can engage her in garbled communication.  One day when she was napping, I got up to go to the kitchen and she said, “Would you pour me a blanket of warm water–I’m freezing.”  I said, “What?”  She said, “Pour me a blanket of warm water–I’m freezing.”  Her eyes closed the whole time, I asked her again, “What?”  She said, louder and irritated, “Pour me a blanket of water–I’m freezing!”, then turned over to face the couch.


Not so amusing many years ago was the fact that my two children and I all battled a serious case of the flu and bronchitis.  My children were younger–probably 8 and 10 at that point–and all of us also were fighting fevers.  My son and I were sitting on the couch in the living room when my daughter came in from the bedroom and exclaimed, “That whole room in there is being eaten up by the big orange people!”  My son and I laughed, knowing my daughter’s predisposition for talking in her sleep and wondering if she were sleep-walking.  She said, “Come on–come look!“  When we continued chuckling, she started crying, so we got up and went with her into my bedroom.  She then led us into my bathroom and pointed into the toilet and said, “See?!”  Well, we didn’t see anything in the toilet, and a moment later neither did she.  Obviously her high fever was causing hallucinations.  Later that night, with my two kids sleeping in my bed and me sleeping in the reclining chair in my room to be close to them, my daughter bolted upright in bed and said, “Look at that big noise!”  I said, “What?”  And she repeated, pointing to a vacant spot in the corner, “Look at that big noise!”, then fell back to sleep.  But the hallucinations did not stop with her.  A short while later, sleeping in my reclining chair, I woke up to see my bedroom door, covered in black velvet and neon, lighted dots, hovering above me and falling toward me.  I startled in my chair, my heart pounding, and the door returned to normal in its jamb.  Karma’s a sick b****.



Weekday Wishes

Today is my least favorite day–

Monday, not my fun day, in any sort of way.

Tuesday is usually not quite so bad,

Not the worst day of the week I ever had.

Wednesday is found right in the middle.

I only mind it just a little.

Thursday my week starts getting better,

Like going to the mailbox and finding a good letter.

Friday is mostly my favorite,

The end of the week, I savor it.

But Saturday is mostly really good, too.

Time for all sorts of fun things to do.

Sunday brings big, home-cooked meals,

I like the laid-back way it feels.

But what I don’t like are Sunday nights,

When my brain and my tummy get into fights

About the coming grim Monday morning,

That always feels like it comes without warning,

Wiping away my weekend when I play in the sun,

And bringing school and taking away my fun.

I don’t know why we can’t pick our favorite days

And make the others disappear in a haze.

Because everyone would be happier if

We could pick our best days and not be so stiff.

Imagine a week of seven happy Fridays–

I would welcome them all, like seven pumpkin-pie days.

A day of the week would be my big wish,

I would even trade in my pet goldfish.

Well, maybe not…if I had Fridays all week

I wouldn’t have to clean the fish tank, cause that’s earlier in the week.

Maybe someone with seven Tuesdays would clean my fish tank,

And the person with seven Sundays would not pull a prank

On my favorite teacher, who gets really weary

Of Johnny’s little tricks–I bet she would be cheery.

I wonder what her favorite day would be…

I hope it’s not Saturday, or she’ll never see me!