MY MIND WANDERED — and never came back!

I’ve never been a fan of Old Man Winter. To say that Jack Frost nips at my nose is a gross understatement. My favorite winter sport is hibernating. When the mercury dips below forty degrees I’m off to sit by the fire with my blanket.

Each year I promise myself that I will do my Christmas shopping early, like maybe in July. And each year I don’t. Unfortunately, I’m no better at keeping a secret than I am with keeping a promise to myself. I would probably end up giving the grandchildren their Christmas presents for Labor Day, and I would still have to Christmas shop.

Since Thanksgiving is now a faint memory, and all the advertisers on TV and radio are screaming about the scant number of shopping days until Christmas, I figured it was about time I headed out to the shopping mall. I put on my winter wander wear which consists of five pairs of socks, four mohair sweaters, three down-filled jackets, two pairs of gloves, and a partridge in a pear tree… let Jack Frost try and nip that!

I was dreading the task, even before I opened the door and stepped outside. I really wanted to stay home by the fire and roast my chestnuts, but my shopping days were numbered. So, armed with a can of pepper spray in case a sale happened to break out, and wearing my shin guards to protect against the inevitable shopping cart injuries, I headed out toward the retail jungle.

After driving around the parking lot for forty-seven minutes, I finally spied two empty parking spaces within throwing distance of the main entrance. As if by magic, two guys in one of those jacked up monster trucks pulled into the spot, taking up one space and half of the other.  They smiled at me apologetically as if to say, “We’re sorry, but we’re such short and puny guys we have to compensate for our small size by driving a tank.”

I shrugged and gave them a smile that I hoped conveyed exactly how small I thought they were.

I finally found a parking spot just inside the county line, and the fun began. Eight hours and an entire check book later, I was all done…well all except for that special gift for The Husband. I had the perfect gift in mind, I just needed to find the right color. He already has my gift wrapped and under the tree. The package looks suspiciously like the box containing the black powder rifle he bought me last year. I’m guessing that this year, he bought me the Remington® Model 7600 High Gloss Centerfire deer rifle I overheard him telling one of his hunting buddies about on the phone last week. So I decided to get him a set of Royal Patrician English China in a delicate Summer Rose pattern, along with some lovely kitchen curtains.

My task finally completed, I took a place in line behind a hundred and eighty other noisy shoppers who were filled with the holiday spirit…or something? I breathed a prayer of thanks for my shin guards as another shopping cart crashed into my legs for the umpteenth time. Above the sound of haggard parents threatening to take away the entire holiday and any hope of another birthday from their screaming, crying, tantrum-throwing children, I could hear the strains of the song ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ streaming from the sound system. I heaved a sigh and wondered if I would make it to the cash register by New Year’s Day.

I swear…next year I’m doing my Christmas shopping in July!

***

Humor-blogs.com

It’s almost that time of year again, Folks. Time to stuff the turkey, burn the rolls and pray that Aunt Mable won’t bring her parrot and her three cats along with her for Thanksgiving dinner again this year.

I love Thanksgiving. It is a special time of year when most  of us take a day off work to either go hunting, watch football or slave over a hot stove for thirty-six hours, depending on our gender, and/or our designated spot in the household food chain. Thanksgiving…a time to pause and reflect on our blessings over the past year and give thanks for what we have been given.

I have a lot of things to be thankful for. I have my family, my friends, my health, food, shelter and warmth… all those things that we need to survive and be reasonably happy. However, there are many more things that I am thankful for which might seem trivial to most of you but I will list a few of them anyway.

I’m thankful that coffee pots have handles. I’m also thankful for forks. Yeah-huh forks. Have you ever tried to eat salad with a spoon?

I’m thankful that Martha Stewart, the epitome of stylish living, is not coming to my house for Thanksgiving dinner. The thought of her visiting my humble abode fills me with stark terror. I am sure she would faint dead away, or possibly suffer a coronary if she saw my table setting. I have nothing that matches. I don’t have a complete set of anything…well nothing except those things I was born with. The only time my china matches is when the plates are all chipped in the same place.

And even though my bed linens are a nightmare of pink stripes and orange flowers, I’m thankful they are made of cloth and not sandpaper. I’ve been suffering a bout of insomnia lately and after all that tossing and turning I’ve been doing, I would l be whittled down to the size of a number 2 pencil right about now if I had to sleep on something  abrasive.

I’m also thankful for chairs. If not for them I would never be able to reach the top shelves of my cabinets. And I’m thankful that snow is soft, especially those great big flakes…  And I’m happy that winter doesn’t last too long. Frankly those trees all standing around naked is just gross.

And speaking of naked, I’m sooo thankful that men no longer wear those horrible polyester leisure suits that were so popular in the 70′s. Not only were they the ugliest garments ever sewn together by child labor in foreign sweat shops, they were also responsible for millions of little Polyesters being slaughtered. The Polyester population is now almost extinct except for the  few that are now residing in  government wildlife reserves, and a couple more that are in the witness protection program.

I AM thankful for elastic waistbands however, especially after I’ve eaten Thanksgiving Dinner.

I’m thankful that our eyes are located on the front of our faces and not where our ears are supposed to be. How would we ever find a pair of glasses that fit? And would they even be called glasses, or would they be called “eye muffs?”

And finally, last but certainly not least, I am thankful for all my readers out there who tell me they look forward to reading my humor column blog posts regularly.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone and may your day be filled with turkey and all the trimmings and may it be seasoned with lots of love, friendship and laughter, and maybe even a large snowflake or two. May you receive all sorts of blessings both great and small, on Thanksgiving Day and all year through.

**

Don’t forget to visit:

Humor-blogs.com

Blog-storm.com

They both have lots of Turkey and trimmings…probably

Bless me hairdresser for I have sinned. It’s been almost eight months since my last haircut.

Hey, where’d you go?

Oh, there you are.

What?

Yes! I can too see!!

See? I just have to put it behind my ears, like this.

Yeah I know I need to get it cut.

Probably shoulder length. What do you think?

What do you mean women my age?

Oh, and I suppose I’ll need the roots touched up a little.

Okay! So my roots are half-way down my back. You know what I mean.

It’s just that I’ve been so busy.

Well, like doing things and stuff. I do a lot of stuff.

And besides that I work from home now so I’m not really out in the public eye very much.

I put it up in a clip when I go to the grocery store or to the doctor which is mostly the only places I go lately.

Probably around five or six pounds, I guess.  Why? Does it really show that much?

It’s just that I eat when I feel guilty. I’ve been feeling guilty about a lot of things lately.

Like this morning. Wayne told me about a girl who was killed in a car crash. When he told me her name it sounded familiar. I said I hoped it wasn’t the girl I know, that I hoped it was someone else with the same name. Than I felt so guilty. I had just wished that someone else was dead. I ate a whole coconut cream pie. And bacon.

Yes. Put me down for Friday around eleven a.m.

No, I’m on my way to lunch. Wanna come?

Yeah, it was nice seeing you again too.

Sort of.

***

A dog, a cat and a parrot walked into a bar…  Just kidding. That’s a different joke.

Last year during the  Christmas holiday, battery-powered robot dogs, cats and parrots were some of the most sought-after items on Santa’s toy list. This year it’s  Hamsters.

According to my research, the hottest selling Christmas item this year is the Zhu Zhu Pets™ Hamster from Cepia.

According to Toys-backwards R-Us:

“These adorable, furry, interactive hamsters double as the perfect family pet and a best friend. With five hamsters to choose from, kids can select one that reflects their personality, including Patches, the flower-lover; Chunk, a laid-back surfer; Pipsqueak, a tiny titan of power; Mr. Squiggles, who loves to explore; or Num Nums, who loves to eat. With more than 40 different sound effects and artificial intelligence, these pets will dart around the house, play in hamster tubes, run on wheels and more. Zhu Zhu Pets™ also make fun sound effects, such as toilet-flushing, teeth-brushing sounds and sleeping noises. 2 “AAA” batteries required (included). Ages 4 years and up. Each hamster sold separately.”

Well, that’s just another terrific idea. Let’s use these robot pets to teach our next generation of pet owners to be even more irresponsible with their animals. Let’s teach them that whenever they get tired of playing with their pets, it’s quite okay to just throw them back into the closet or toy box and forget about them for a few months, or until they start to stink up the house. (the pets, not the kids)

Already there is a shortage of the Zhu Zhu™ pets in stores. This, of course makes  the item even more sought-after and it will probably prove to be this year’s reason to trample someone to death during the shopping season.

Speaking of Christmas shopping, who is looking forward to Black Friday? If it happens to snow on Thanksgiving will it still be called Black Friday or will it be White Friday? The only thing worse than camping outside the stores trying  to be the first one through the doors when they open is camping out in the snow waiting to be the first…

I have all my shopping gear ready. I have my shin guards, shoulder pads, my pepper spray and seven hundred sale papers…all from different stores. Is it possible to camp out in seven hundred places at the same time?

Actually, I’m kidding. I hate shopping, especially on the busiest time of the year. I don’t even like going to the grocery store.

Which brings up another question: Where did I put the turkey? I remember buying it, I think.

Actually, I’m scared to death of raw turkey. After all the warnings about how you can get botulism or E.coli or some other dreaded food poisoning virus from touching the skin of a raw turkey, it makes me shudder to think of cooking one for the holidays.

I always bleach everything after I handle the turkey. I bleach the sink, the counter tops, the stove, the floor, my hair…  I’m so afraid of getting food poisoning. If someone wanted to rob me all they would have to do is wave a raw turkey in my face.

They’d be like, “I have a raw turkey! Do as I say and nobody gets hurt!”

And I’d be all “Here, you want my purse? My car keys? My kidney? Wan’t me to  drive you across the border?  Here’s a blank check, my ATM card and PIN number. Just please don’t hit me with that raw turkey!!”

Don’t laugh, it could happen.  Lately it seem that assaulting someone with food has become  a favorite pass time for some people.  Like the following news item I read about earlier:

According to the report, twenty-five students were arrested in a Chicago charter school when they engaged in food fight. (and this is true -according to the reporter who reported it).

The report further stated that:

“To make matters worse, the students’ parents allege that police kept their kids at the Gresham District police station for over 5 hours before they were notified.”

While I don’t think this warranted such harsh punishment, it still wasn’t very nice. I know firsthand how humiliating it is to be hit by edible items. (don’t ask).

However, it could have been a lot worse.

The students could have been throwing raw turkey. Or  Zhu-Zhu Hamsters™.

Humorblogs.com

When I brought him from the nursery; he was such a healthy sight.  I placed him near the window,where he could see the light.

I nurtured him with loving care; I talked to him a lot,  but he began to fade away despite the care he got.

It fills me with frustration; it makes me rave and rant;  I’ve raised some healthy children, but I’ve yet to raise ONE plant!

I have a brown thumb. I could kill a cactus…in fact I did once. It was a lovely barrel cactus that my mama gave me…along with complete instructions which consisted of basically doing nothing except watering it a couple of times every six months or so.

I did. It died.

Plants hate me. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve ever intentionally been mean to any of them. I treat them all equally, try to be politically correct when I talk to them. I even buy them little presents like plant food, little trellises for them to climb around on, and bird ornaments and butterflies and stuff. Maybe they just don’t like the sound of my voice or maybe they’re jealous of all the attention I pay the dogs.

Who knows.

The older generation had odd names for their plants. They didn’t use their botanical name. They gave them names that described their appearance instead.

For instance Mama had these beautiful little purple flowers that sort of looked like a cross between a pansy and a petunia. She called them “Monkey Faces”. They were so pretty when they bloomed. She had kept them since I was a little girl…which, between you and me, was a looooooong time.  After I took over their care they lasted about two months and then they fainted and lay lifeless over the side of the pot.  Soon there was nothing but an ugly clump of brown yuk.

She had another plant that was virtually un-killable. It was called  “Mother-in-Law’s Tongue” and it was ugly. Hideous. It was a tall, hearty, potted plant that grew green blades shaped like tongues. It didn’t do anything else, just sat there growing an extra tongue every four or five days until it filled the pot. I kept it two weeks and the tongues went limp, turned brown, and fell off.

I finally gave up and bought plastic plants. But they don’t offer the benefits of live plants.

According to research, live indoor plants offer loads of health benefits. The results of Dr. B.C. Wolverton’s research on air purifying benefits of indoor plants, sponsored by NASA and the Landscape Contractors of America show that live plants can clean indoor air by reducing the level of airborne VOCs,  such as benzene, formaldehyde and trichloroethylene.

According to a study out of Washington State University, plants release moisture in an indoor environment, creating a humidity level matching the recommended human comfort range of 30% to 60%. When air humidity falls below the recommended range, materials such as wood can become cracked. ( so wouldn’t this also apply to our skin?)

And according to researchers Ulrich and Simons, indoor plants reduce stress, aid in  lowering our blood pressure, and give many psychological benefits.

So I have concluded, after reading all these research findings, that indoor plants will make you look younger, feel better, be more productive and less stressed. Now if only I can find some kind of plant that can survive my nurturing…

I’m thinking a pot full of pot…or maybe a hanging basket of poison ivy?

Humor-blogs.com has live plants!

Dear Former President George W. Bush:

You stood with us as our president during so many bad times in our nation.

You saw us through 9-11 –  the worst terrorist attack we’ve ever experienced to date.

You were with us during Hurricane Katrina which was one of the worst natural disasters to hit in US history.

You were with us during the shooting rampage at VA Tech, a space shuttle explosion, a tornado that wiped out a whole town in Kansas, the collapse of a bridge in Minnesota, flooding in the Midwest and wildfires in California….

Considering all these things, I am inclined to believe that having you as our president brought us bad luck.

Have you ever had the feeling you were being followed? You feel the hair crawling on the back of your neck and you get this chill down your spine. You keep turning around and looking over your shoulder to see who’s there.

Oh? You’ve never had that happen? Actually, I never have either, but I’ve heard it can be quite scary.

Although, I can understand the reason why no one would ever want to follow me. I never know where I’m going until I get there, and it shows.  Most of the time I blunder around like a goose on tranquilizers.

Like last week I was running some errands, but my mind wasn’t into it.  I needed to pay my electric bill. I passed right by the utilities office and ended up parallel parked in front of the theater. I didn’t even know I could do that. I turned around and went back to pay my utility bill, all the while mentally slapping myself in the forehead for being so “stupid-stupid-stupid”. I was so upset at myself, I passed it by again. So I went home and took a nap. I hate when that happens.

I’m one of those people who can’t concentrate on three things at once. I could
never work at a fast food restaurant unless the menu was limited to only two items.

If a customer ordered fries to go with their sandwich and drink, I would probably get the mop and start cleaning the floors.

For a while I thought my absentmindedness was simply a part of the aging process, but then I remembered I’ve been this way all my life. I think.

Being addlepated (which is the non-medical term meaning “stupid-stupid-stupid”) can cause enough problems in day to day life, but there are certain circumstances where it can be downright dangerous. That’s why I never considered becoming a surgeon or an airline pilot. Well, that, and the fact that I can’t stand the sight of blood and I’m scared to death of heights. There are two places where the word “oops” should never be uttered. One is the hospital operating room and the other is the cockpit of an airplane at 30,000 feet in the air.

The other day I was wandering around the grocery store, because wandering
around the post office wouldn’t have made any sense. I had forgotten my trusty list and I didn’t have a clue what I needed to buy. After twenty laps around the store I bought a loaf of bread. You can’t go wrong buying a loaf of bread. When I came home I stuck the bread in the freezer with the other 54 loaves already in there, got my list and went back to the store.

I always make lists. I make lists of everything. I make lists of the lists I need to make. Then I forget to take my lists with me. So I have resorted to writing my lists on my hand, or arm, depending on the space needed. This is a great way to be certain I don’t leave my list at home, because I always take my hands and arms with me whenever I go out.

This list method will work for anyone. However, if you have a long list you must write very small, especially if you have short arms.  Oh, and don’t use a permanent marker.

I also bought a bumper sticker for my car that reads: “Don’t Follow Me, I Don’t Know Where I’m Going!”  I bought another one exactly like it and stuck it on the back of my jacket.

So, if you should decide to follow me, It’ll be your fault if you get lost. You should have read the warning label.

You can follow me at humor-blogs.com though.

Our Freedom Shield

Rising from the ashes,
born amidst the flame
of America’s fight for freedom,
our banner of courage came.

A flag they call “Old Glory”
colored blue and white and red,
a symbol of hope to those who live,
a tribute to our dead.

For freedom won and the sacrifice
our proud brave troops have made,
may “Old Glory” wave forever,
may her colors never fade.

As America goes marching on,
may we be forever free
to stand and pledge allegiance
to our flag of liberty.

Every where we turn these days there are a gazillion laws and rules that we are forced to follow. There are Federal laws, state laws, city ordinances, county regulations, office policy and employee rules, dress codes, health and safety regulations, Murphy’s Law, the law of gravity, and there’s even the three second rule which applies to food that you accidentally drop on the floor.

Frankly, I have become so weary of being told what I can and cannot do.

We have to pay our taxes whether we want to or not, or else we’ll go to prison. We must renew our driver’s license regularly or go to jail if we’re caught driving without them. We have to renew our automobile registration each year, have auto insurance coverage, and some of us even have to pay back our home mortgage loans.

Our privacy is constantly being invaded due to homeland security.  We’re stripped of our shoes, and our bags are rifled through at airports.

And now, we even have to submit to a strip-search before we can enter the court house.

What? That’s not a law? Then how come that security guard made….

Nevermind.

Those of us who still smoke are no longer allowed to smoke out doors in public places even though the air is already thick with the stench of perfume and flatulence from all the non smokers, and the government keeps adding more and more taxes onto cigarettes. So now we can’t afford to buy them (very often) anyway.

Due to the federal cigarette tax, a carton of cigarettes currently cost more than a bag of weed. Not that I know anything about the price of Cannabis, I’m just saying. My lungs belong to me and if I want to destroy them with smoke then I should be allowed to do so without paying the government to let me do it.

But it’s only going to get worse, especially with the proposed government controlled universal healthcare. In order to cut medical spending, the government would then come down even harder on smokers. It could get quite ugly for the older people who smoke.

I can see it now. It would probably play out something like this:

The (older) smoker will go to the doctor’s office for a check-up.

Doctor: Are you a smoker?

Patient: Yes.

Doctor: Okay, I’m going to write you a prescription. Be sure you get it filled and follow the directions carefully.

Patient: Thanks. Should I make a follow-up appointment?

Doctor: No, that won’t be necessary.

The patient then goes to the pharmacy and gets the prescription filled. The pharmacist hands over a small box containing the medication. The patient  goes home and opens the box and inside there is a syringe. The label on the syringe reads:  Lethal Injection. Take one dose.

Another thing that really annoys me is the new seat-belt law. Why should I have to pay a fine if I don’t wear my safety belt while I’m driving my car? The way I see it, that law is unconstitutional. It’s my face and my windshield, so why should I pay a fine if I choose to be thrown through it if I happen to be involved in an accident?

And then there’s the mattress tag thing. Pffft! I ripped every one of the tags off my mattress and pillows, so go ahead on and put me in jail. I don’t care.

And just now? I was going to heat a frozen pizza? The box said “Do not heat in microwave.”

What the…  It’s my flippin pizza. I paid for it and I’ll heat it up with my curling iron if I want to. Like it’s somebody’s business.

I might just eat it cold. See how they like that.

I have become so weary of being told what I can and cannot do, I think  I’ve developed a bad case of Never Ending Rules Disease, or (NERD).

humor-blogs.com

Warning: This blog post isn’t funny and it will probably offend some of you. If it does, I’m sorry, but I said exactly what I thought:

I feel so hurt and rejected today and for me that is a strange thing. Normally I take rejection well. I let it roll off my back like rain off an umbrella.

I am certainly no stranger to rejection. After all, I have been writing (freelance)  since the early 1980′s and for the first few years that’s about the only response I recieved.

However, I received a rejection today that almost made me cry. It made me angry and frankly it confused me a little bit.

About a week ago I submitted my blog — this blog — which is intended as a humor blog — to the blogging community known as Humorbloggers.com. On Saturday I recieved the following email:

Pardon me, but I’ve read some of the blogs that are listed in HB.com and I think mine is just as humorous.  (maybe that’s just my opinion though.)

I get several comments from other bloggers. Maybe not as many as some and certainly not like The Bloggess and a few others who get comments that number somewhere in the triple digits on every post, but still…

I do have a few regular readers and I post on a regular basis and I visit several blogs each day. (I do this for my own pleasure though) and I try to leave comments on the blogs I visit.  I’m also a member of several other blogging communities. What I’m wondering is what’s so special about HBDC  and why so exclusive?

So? How about you bite me HUMORBLOGGERS.COM! Yes. I said that. And here it is again:

BITE ME CHELLE B, YOU AND YOUR WHOLE FRIKKIN JUDGEMENTAL PANAL!!!

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