Posts Tagged humor

Do-lang, Do-lang, Do-lang

The eighth grade dance! It was without a doubt an event every young boy awaited with a gut-twisting eager dread.

I grew up in the little town of Buckeye, Arizona, and by the time my pals and I reached the eighth grade we knew we liked girls, but weren’t sure why, or what we should do about it. Read the rest of this entry »

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Let’s Face It

The world has changed a bit. Some things have changed for the good, and some for the not so good. It’s always been that way; a steady moving on kind of thing that occasionally slows, but never stops. You can’t stop progress, ya know. Read the rest of this entry »

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I Believe He Can Fly!

Remember that guy with the Handicap Parking sticker; my no-toes new neighbor with the attitude? Well, turns out he’s not only quick, but for a toe-less dude he can run pretty fast too! I had an opportunity to see him in action a couple days ago.

I was busy working on a project in the house, and I was getting to finishing it when I realized I’d forgotten to buy paint, and would have to make a quick run to Huntsville to pick some up. As I went through the kitchen, I glanced out the window and saw JB (the neighbor) cutting down some tall weeds that had grown up on the lake side of his retaining wall in the back yard. Evidently, he was just finishing up, because he placed his weed-eater on the grass, then walked around and picked it up. His golf cart was parked in the yard, and I watched as he tossed the weed-eater into it. To my amazement—and JB’s horror—the golf cart took off toward the lake.

The cart wasn’t going full-throttle, but it was going at a pretty good clip, and even though JB was quick to react, and was running alongside the cart, trying to reach in for the weed-eater, he was—as one would guess—in panic mode, and was thus inclined to make some not so good decisions. The first mistake—in my humble opinion—was when he jumped into the cart. The problem was, he jumped in too late, and all it got him was the thrill of soaring through the air, followed by a solo flight when he was ejected from the speeding cart. I’m guessing when he tried to hit the brakes, the weed-eater was in the way, and what he did was mash the weed-eater into the accelerator. In any case, the cart whipped to the right just before it went over the wall, and JB went flying into the lake with the weed-eater hugged to his chest.

The good news was, JB was okay, and the golf cart also survived the trip, winding up stuck in the shallow edge of the lake, but with the important parts remaining mostly high and dry. The weed-eater, which was sporting a brand new 40 volt battery, wound up sticking up next to JB, battery-end submerged.

What I regret most about the incident, is not having my phone handy. I would so love to post a video with this story! Shoot! I didn’t even get a picture of the aftermath! But this is kind of what it looked like:golf cart in lake

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Handicap Parking

Some new folks had moved into the house next door. They seemed like a nice, friendly couple, so we thought we’d spend a Saturday with them and get to know them. The wives decided the flea market in Livingston would be a fun place to go, and me and him didn’t get a vote, so off we went.

After walking a mile or two at the flea market, we (the wives) decided to try out a restaurant over in Onalaska we’d heard was real good. The new neighbor dude was driving, and when we got to the place, he wheeled into a handicap space right in front of the entrance like he had every right to park there. I was riding shotgun—the ladies were in the back, talking shoes and such—and I looked over at him and give him a half grin and “the eyebrow”. He grinned full, reached in the door pocket, and hung one of them blue tags with a wheelchair on it on the rearview mirror. THAT put me in one of my moods, so I give him the V-brow-no-grin-at-all. It surprised the dickens outta me when he shot the same expression right back at me. Then… it got all of a sudden no-shoe-talkin quiet in the back seat, and I coulda swore I heard the theme music from The Good The Bad And The Ugly coming from outside the car.

I reached in my shirt pocket and got the piece of straw I keep there for such occasions, and began to chew on it. The music got louder then faded into the background as I said, “Why you got that handicap sticker?” I mean the guy looked to be every bit as healthy and able as me, so I figured it was a fair question.

He never blinked, just looked at me with steely eyes and said—real soft-like, with an undercurrent of meanness in his tone, “I ain’t got no toes.”

I blinked, and the straw fell onto my lap. “Oh,” I said.

He kept looking at me like we wasn’t finished talkin’ about it, so I said, “How come?”

He did one of those quick chin shots at me, and I blinked again and bumped the back of my head on the window. “Diabetes,” he growled.

I felt the wife’s eyes heatin’ up on the side of my head, so I decided I’d get out of the car. I gotta tell ya, for a fella with no toes he was quick, and he was staring at me over the top of that SUV when I got out and looked over that way. “We good?” he said. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but he was now chewin’ on my lucky straw.

I give him a quick nod then jumped back and opened the door for my wife. I don’t know how in the world she does it, but as she got out of the car, she was yelling at me without opening her mouth. I have learned there is no good response to such a look, so I beat-feet it around the car and went and held the restaurant door for the three of them. The looks on their faces said it was a good move and maybe I’d get through this.


We sat down at a table to order up some eats, and it seemed like everything was gonna be all right; the gals went back to shoe talk, and me and my neighbor studied the menu to see what might be good to eat. When the cute little gal come for our orders,  I asked her what she recommended, and she looked me over real good, grinned and said “You’re gonna want the baby backs.” I was thoroughly enjoying her smile when the side of my head the wife was sitting on started to heat up. I snapped my eyes back to the menu, and waited while the wives ordered. It was difficult, but when the gal looked at me, I kept my eyes on the menu and ordered myself a full rack of baby back ribs, fries, beans, and a Coke. She said, “You da man,” then turned to my new neighbor. When he ordered a salad, I looked up over the menu at him, but my eyebrows remained relaxed and non-committal. The waitress shot a grin at me, and the side of my head began to heat up something fierce, so I jumped up and went over to look at the pies they had in a glass display case by the register. When I felt it was safe I went back to the table, and as I sat down, I said, “Gonna get me some of that pie!”

“Ah, no can do,” my new neighbor said. My eyebrow twitched, but a quick glance at my wife caused it to level off quick, as—her lips never moved—she fairly screamed, “NOT-A-WORD!” I’ve studied her when she does this, and best I can tell the heat comes from her eyes. I sometimes wonder if she might be an alien. One day, she actually told me she was, but I thought she was joking. Sometimes… well, I’m not sure she was.

I think my neighbor was thinking he had me on the ropes, so he goes into this sad spiel about all the things the doctors told him to stay away from. When he was done with the list, I couldn’t figure out why a fella would want to live if he couldn’t eat all that stuff—everything on his list was in my top twenty. So… I decided to risk one quick piece of advice.

“Seems to me,” I said. “What you really need to stay away from… is doctors.”

I guess y’all know they don’t have taxis in Onalaska, Texas. hitch hiker

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The Shoe Whisperer

This will sound strange—especially coming from me—but when does weird cross the line?

A few years back, I was walking the dog, minding my own business, and here comes this kid walking down the sidewalk toward me… pulling a shoe. Read the rest of this entry »

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Today Day!

By the powers not likely to be vested in me, I hereby declare this to be Today Day. Today will be dedicated and set Today 6-10-2016 quoteaside to observe and celebrate the singular fact that Today is unlike any other day preceding it, or to come, and thus should receive special recognition and honor. Read the rest of this entry »

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Sudden Death!

There were times I literally lived in fear of my dad. At the time, it wasn’t fun, and it darn sure wasn’t funny, but now, looking back, some of the things that took place were a bit humorous in a terrifying sort of way. This is one of them: Read the rest of this entry »

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Please… Help If You Can

They give it a name—preferably, one that has a cool sounding acronym—and, BAM, it’s a disease and they have a pill and/or treatment for it. Both are usually quite expensive, but, hey, you’ve got health insurance, right? If you don’t have health insurance, the IRS (<— coolest acronym ever, right?) would like to talk to you.

That said, I saw one—a disease I’d never heard of–this morning, which led me to announcing one of my own. I’m not going to tell you what the one I saw was (Holy cow! Did you know “was” spelled backward is “saw”?), because sure-as-shootin’, you, a friend, or a relative—maybe just somebody you know—will “think” they have it, and chastise me ear tuck quote 2for making light of your/their malady.

Anyway, the one I’ve invented (I think most of them are invented), and diagnosed my wife, Sherry as having it, is AHS (I checked, that one is not currently being used by Big Pharma). Yes, I am sad to inform you, she is suffering (I do NOT use that word lightly) from Annoying Husband Syndrome.

I’ll be setting up one of those donation site thingy’s later today. Please… help if you can.



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Get Your Ducks In A Row!

This post needs no introduction or explanation, or, perhaps, it needs quite a lot of one or the other. I’ll let you decide.

Ducks In A Row


Get your ducks in a row, the boss yelled

You best get your stuff in one sack

Get your act together, he screamed

Or tomorrow we won’t need you back

  Read the rest of this entry »

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She’s Got My Number

I had this procedure once—all men know the procedure I’m referring to—and as I was sitting on the bed, attempting to regain my senses—not to mention my dignity—the nurse came bouncing in (don’t you just hate it when they bounce in?) and gave me a list of things I could NOT do. My eyes bugged out when I came to the last thing on the list; No Alcoholic Beverages.

“Not even ONE beer?”

She grinned, shrugged. “Oh, ONE beer would probably be okay.”

“Could you put that in writing?”

Still grinning, she jotted it on a pad, tore off the page, handed it to me, then left the room, chuckling. I examined it;


Using the pen on the bedside table, I made a minor adjustment then put the note in my shirt pocket.

On the way home I said, “You mind stopping at the store, so I can get a six-pack.

“You’re not supposed to drink today.”

I held the note up. “That’s not what the nurse said.”

She shot me “the look”; you know… the one that says, “I trust you and believe everything you say, dear.

At the next red light, she said, “Let me see it.”

She looked at it, handed it back to me. “Nice try, Charlie.”

one beer 2

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