Growing up, my dad was a joker, and so my sense of humor comes from him. One of the things he taught us is how to laugh at the unlaughable. I'm not going to tell you how we "look for the sunnyside" or any of that kind of crap. What we do is laugh at ourselves, and try not to take things too seriously.

When everything was happening last spring, it was really hard to find a way to laugh at any of it. Brain trauma is serious, and spending weeks not knowing if every day when the phone rang it would be the news that my sister died, was horrible. (There were other things adding to the horrible, but that's for a different day.)

So when my sister woke up, and was going to be released to do rehabilitation in our home town, it was time to start laughing. And getting her to laugh.

The first thing I did, before she was released from the hospital in Pittsburgh, was to draw smiley faces on her toes. I had "threatened" to draw on her earlier, and I meant to make good on that.

Also, she's diabetic, so drawing on her feet would drive my mother bananas.

Everyone at the hospital, and then the nursing home she was released to, knew about the faces on her toes. (Sharpies are good for A LOT of things!!!) Since she couldn't do much for herself those first few weeks, it was inevitable that the Gator would discover what I'd done.

One day, the Gator called and she did her usual "So what's new" bit, and I told her that a rainbow pack of Sharpies was on sale at Staples. At that point, she called me an asshole, and told me that if I didn't behave, she'd have me strip-searched every time I went to visit my sister.

I couldn't stop laughing.

She had been up to visit my sister, and noticed the "black" on her toes. Since my sister is diabetic, my mother's first thought was gangrene (or worse) and so, as she tried to get a better look, my sister kept her legs moving around. When my mom finally caught a foot, and got a look, she asked, "Just when did your sister do this?"

I don't know why the Gator immediately thought of me.

Day 2, part 2

At some point yesterday or today, My Sweetie sez, "Geez. I think I've got a bad case of the mid-40's."

I sez, "Oh?" giggle

He sez, "Yeah, and the doc says there's no hope for a cure."

giggle

A Mr Mumple Story

When you travel for your job, there are some strange things you can encounter. And My Sweetie tells me about 'em.

The other day, while out and about in the county, he & his trainee were replacing a windshield...the customer was a decent looking woman who, apparently, had very few wardrobe options.

She wore a short black robe. Emphasis on the "short" part. When done with the job, and awaiting payment (not that kind of payment, perv) she invited them inside the house.

Yeah. She showed them her pussy.







He was a Himalayan.

The cat had absolutely nothing to do with the short robe, but, of course, the fun is in telling it to your wife this way.

Jokers Wild

I tell a lot of stories about work. Some of them about the weirdness that seems to find me no matter where I go, and some of them just ranting.

This time, I'm gonna tell you a story about a funny little Gnome.

Let me say in my defense, anyone who thinks I'm mean for picking on the short guy at work just hasn't been paying attention. Said Gnome makes jokes at my expense all the time, so anything I can do to repay the favor is only fair.

Even he thinks it's funny when Frodo gets a phone message from Ron Popeil about his late shipment of spray-on hair. And the back hair jokes slay 'em in the aisles. But the Gnome, well, he usually thinks faster than I do, and one-ups me.

A few weeks ago, My Sweetie and I were in to look at flooring for the bathroom. The Gnome says "hello" and then asks me what the weather's like outside. I answer honestly--it's sunny and nice out. "It's not windy or anything?" No, it's not, you weirdo.

"Oh, so there's no chance of a house falling on you then, is there?"

A day or so later, we continue that conversation: They're hosing down the floor in the garden center, and I'm getting spritzed no matter where I move to. I call him, knowing he'll laugh his funny little gnomish head off over it, and tell him, "They're hosing the floor out here. I'm getting wet."

"Okay. And....?"

"I could melt!"

He turns around and sends someone else out on the next dampish day to ask if I'm okay...it's wet out here, and blah blah blah.

Ah, yes. A funny funny little gnome. I can't wait to see his reaction to what I've currently got planned.

A Funny Little Man

That's my Mr Mumple.

First, a little background on the day in question:

I spent my day at work inside. No problem, really, but it was noisy. As in clanging and banging, pages you could actually hear, large loading door going up and down on a rattly chain. Yeah, noisy comes close to describing it.

Second, there was soccer practice. During which I fell asleep in the car. When I woke up, I was a little disoriented.

Third, by the time we got home, the Howler (and the little mister) where quite chatty. As in non-stop blathering about God-Alone-Knows-What. The Howler had her volume set at 11. During the Howler's shower, I left the room for some quiet...and My Sweetie, ever the first to pick up on subtle clues, turned up the volume on the TV. Apparently, people two blocks over needed to hear it, whether they wanted to or not, and I, of course, in the next room, could too. My Sweetie wanders over to stand the doorway of the room I'm in, muttering to himself. Having had enough of the audio-overload, I shut the door in his muttering face. I got quiet, for about 2 seconds. He began asking if I was mad at him. Sheesh.

The Howler finally goes to bed.

There is quiet in the house. FINALLY.

My Sweetie is now complaining about a bug bite on his leg. I tell him, in an effort to not hear about it--or anything--I tell him, "I'll get you the anti-itch cream in ONE SECOND."

The funny little man I married responds with an evil grin, and a laugh, "Oh, do we have any anti-bitch cream, too?"

He's soooooo lucky that I know that being called a bitch is a compliment.

Follow The Directions

Enjoy~I did.

New Patio Furniture

For Easter this year, we splurged on new patio furniture. Aren't you jealous of me?!

More Photos! More Photos!

Now, seriously, what do these pictures make you think of? They're not staged, I found these poor people like this.

Self Portrait

Searching For My Lost Shaker of Salt

Lo and behold, I've made everyone around me at least as miserable as I've been, and they've decided to spare themselves further misery. They moved me back outside.


I am beside myself with a multitude of emotions, the biggest one being nauseated.


Why?


Recently, I've discovered the most ginormous slug--EVER. I swear to God, at one point, I thought it was a smallish manager. Then I noticed it wasn't wearing glasses and I knew it was just a slug. (For the record, a ginormous slug and a smallish manager are roughly the same size--and size, is, of course, relative.)


Out There, I've seen all manner of Skeeve-Me-Out Things: rats, mice, small frogs, large toads (no relation to mine, btw), UFB (unidentified flying bugs), UHB (unidentified hopping bugs), UCB (crawlers), spiders big enough to have their own zip codes, moths as big as my head...you get the picture. And it's making my skin crawl.


Lately, all I've been finding are oozy, slimy, gag-inducing slugs. And it's like seeing the Princess's pasty white butt crack--it's impossible to look away.


Since I'm not allowed to have a camera with at me work (and even if my cellphone were charged, it doesn't take pictures, and I'm not allowed to have it with me either), I had to (gag) model the thing, true-to-life size in (gag) play-doh. (Scale 1:1)

The Ginormous Slug
The smallish manager
Together, for comparison.

I Crack Me Up

This is a shameless, self-congratulatory post.

I finally did create a blog for The Bee. It's called A Bee in My Bonnet and it's hilarious, if I say so myself.

So little time, so much Bee.

Going to the Jolly Green Giant Campfire

on Wordless Wednesday.

Flip It

At the close of Day #3 in the IRS drama, we've discovered the humor in it.

We're sick, I know.

Actually, when you think about it, discovering that the IRS wants $14,000 is quite liberating. "How so?" Oh, ye of little faith! Listen up!

It puts everything, and I do mean EVERY. THING. into perspective.

Howler throwing a tantrum? No problem. It costs nothing except a few nerves. (and maybe an eardrum)

Toad being a jerk? No problem. It's just a few extra blood pressure points.

Work problems? No problem. I need the job to pay the IRS, so it's a whole new ballgame how much ankle grabbing I'm willing to agree to.

See? It's a win-win-win.

Oh, and most importantly, we don't have a Citibank Visa, so the enjoyment of the cardboard box we'll all soon be living in will be totally interest free, too.

Howler tantrum: FREE
Toad Jerkdom: FREE
Work: FREE for all (plus appliance boxes)
IRS letter: $14,008 + continuing penalties and interest

April Fools

So, today is a day of pranks, practical jokes, and, what amounts to being a free-for-all in the stupid insenstive and rude arena.

Instead of telling you about the greatest practical jokes I've ever pulled (there have been a few) I'm going to tell you all how to pull off a good prank without losing friends, family, or your job.

There are 3 criteria you must meet (and yeah, I do mean ALL three) in order for it to be a GOOD practical joke. (and by GOOD, I mean, one that gets talked about for years to come, is remembered fondly, and others patiently wait next year while interviewing future victims.)

1. It is not publicly humiliating (actually, humiliation is not really a good thing--public or private, BUT, a little humiliation, in private, is good for everyone)

2. It does not damage or endanger person(s) or property in any way. This means, folks, that if it's going to cost someone money to repair their property or involve a trip (or even the possibility) to the emergency room, IT'S NOT FUNNY. Do Not Go There.

3. It would still be funny if someone did it to you. This is pretty clear--and if someone DID it to you, and you were pissed off AT ALL, do not do it to someone else.

These are no-brainers. If you don't like being lied to, even as a joke, don't lie to me to make the joke. If you don't want to spend YOUR money to get my electricity turned back on, don't get it turned off. If you don't want to spend 2 hours carefully cutting your car out of shrink wrap, don't wrap mine. If you don't want everyone you work with to see your ass, don't try to make me show mine. Pretty easy stuff--stuff that even 5 year olds can grasp.

With that said, I'll tell you about the #1 greatest Practical Joke I Pulled Off EVER:

I used to work in an office. The position I had employed staggered hours--there were days when I had to be there "early" (and thus, left work "early) and days were, due to deadlines, the day, for me, started "late" and ended "late."

One person I worked with had a similarly warped sense of humor, and, being the only man in the department, was an easy "target." He was very particular about his coffee cup, and the condition of his desk. His hours were 30 minutes earlier than mine, so, of course, this meant that I had essentially unsupervised access to his coffee cup and desk for approximately 30 minutes a day.

One day (not April Fool's) I decided that I was going to "get him" and play this joke. I took his cup and washed it (I would not risk cold coffee dregs splashing), dried it, and carefully used clear packing tape to tape his cup to his desk--in precisely the position he left it.

I had forgotten that the next day I had a "late" day--and not only would I miss seeing my joke in action, he would have essentially unsupervised access to MY desk.

By the time I arrived, EVERYONE in our department was aware of what would happen. They were expecting me to be majorly pissed off--I hadn't worked there very long, and they didn't know my criteria for a good practical joke.

He had, in his unsupervised time, effectively taped or glued down EVERY thing on my desk that could be. I spend the day not being able to move or use things unless I first un stuck them.

I spent the day laughing. I especially remember the tiny nubbin of a pink eraser--smaller than your thumbnail--being taped down, and answering my phone....and having to shout and ask "What?!" a lot because the hand piece had been taped down, and the tape didn't come off on the desk part--I was talking thru the tape to customers.

The only thing that upset me is that he took my "special" memo pad (it had the Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz and the 'memo' of "If I only had a brain", and I have never found one even similar since) and glued ALL the pages together. At the end of the day, I quietly told him that while everything else was funny, that was unfair--and I explained to him why.

We spent the next 6 years playing jokes on each other this way--my favorite was to take already existing pics of him, photo copy them bigger or smaller, and place them in Far Side cartoons, or making up fake personal ads and taping them into his daily newspaper.

So, you see, being able to TAKE joke is just as important as being able to pull one off.

Happy Foolin'.....and let's all be careful out there.

My Sister, the Comedianne

My sister and I aren't all that much alike. Except for our senses of humor--which, to say the least, is off center.

Years ago, she lived in Erie, PA. She would call me, long distance--when there were no special plans or phone cards--during peak hours to say things like, "Do me a favor."

(Of course, even then, I knew better than to just answer "Yes.") "It depends."

"No. Really. Do me a favor."

"Tell me what it is first."

"Seriously. I need you to do me a favor."

Sigh. "Fine. What?"

"Tell me if there's a dial tone." *click*

She's crazy. She called me once, similar circumstances to say, "Do you wanna meet my new friend?" Her new friend was "Mr. Click" and you guessed it, she hung up on me then, too.

This time, though, it's local, and I'm the one who called her. She managed, though, to turn it on me:

I call my mother's house on Sunday (Easter Sunday, after church, mind you) My sister answers.

Sis: "Hello"

Me: "Where's your mother?"

S: "Sitting here"

Me: "Oh. Okay."

S: "Is that all?"

Me: "Uh, yeah."

Pause.

The line goes dead.

SHE HUNG UP ON ME! I thought she'd be handing the phone to our mother, but NO! She hangs up on me.

I hang up and redial. Thank God our mother is used to this from us, because when she answered, "Hello, " I was in full-out belly laugh. Tears pouring down my cheeks. I can't breathe.

My mother says, "You're idiots." And I laugh harder. My sister is laughing in the background, and the harder she laughs, the harder I laugh.

She's one of the few people I can never quite One-Up in the Humorous Arena.