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Showing posts from March, 2014

Funny Things That Didn't Happen to Me Today

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Nothing funny happened to me today.  It's not that it was a boring day or anything.  It was a normal Sunday in Lent at St. John's Roman Catholic Church, which meant that I was up in front of the congregation during two masses, singing my lungs out in both English and Latin.  But that doesn't help me, as a humor writer.  When things go completely right, and nothing unusual happens, it's a disaster.

I sang all the hymns and responses right.  I came in at the correct times and didn't misread any of the words in the Responsorial Psalm.  I still can't get used to the new/old version of the Nicene Creed that was imposed on us a while back, but that doesn't matter because everybody is reciting it at once and I just mumble along.  Nobody cares if I get it right or not, least of all me.

I got the second half of a huge load of laundry done today, too.  Now THAT'S something to write about.  I hate doing laundry.  It's not that it's hard.  It isn't.  T…

Happy Vernal Equinox!

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After the craziest winter in the memories of everybody in North America, we finally come to the First Day of Spring.  All of us have been wondering when spring will come.  Well, it's finally here -- at least astronomically, which is better than nothing.  It wasn't warm outside, but at least we weren't turning into Ice Zombies minutes after stepping out the door, and that's an improvement.

In the spirit of the day, I offer this little poem:

Spring is here, or so they say, So we must not despair. And we can just ignore the wind As well as the nippy air
There are no flowers blooming bright No lovely, perfumed trees. But happy day!  There is no snow! Let's keep it that way, please!
Hey!  I'm a humor writer, not a poet!  (Everyone's a critic!)

Along the Kitty Trail

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I love my cat, Harmony.  She's funny and cute and she loves me.  She's also very smart and very mischievous.  I think she secretly laughs at me a lot.  Anyway, she loves to play tricks on me.

Lately, she has been amusing herself by pulling gloves off the top of my dresser and putting them in the bathtub.

Yesterday, she outdid herself.  I came home to find a neatly set out trail of gloves (and one scrunchie), stretching from the dresser, which is in the back of my living room, to a cardboard box that was sitting in the vestibule.  If you don't believe me, here is the evidence.  I promise you, I did not touch any of the items on the floor until AFTER I took the pictures.  This is all Harmony's doing.

Shakespeare and Coffee

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(I wrote this earlier today.)


I must be bored right now, because I am reading the quotes on my Shakespearean Insults coffee mug.  I bought this a few years ago in The Strand bookstore, near Union Square in Manhattan.  In my defense, I also bought a Shakespearean Love Quotes mug, but it’s at home right now and I can’t get at it.
The average person’s vocabulary of insults is woeful.  To help remedy this situation, here are some suggestions for creative insults that could be used by people of various professions.  The Bard of Avon was quite a wordsmith, and he knew how to make quite a zing with them.No, I don’t know which plays these came from.  I’m reading them off a coffee mug, for Pete’s sake!
Butcher:  “Mountain of mad flesh.”
Dentist:  “Veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth.”
Dermatologist:  “Thou art a boil, a plague sore.”
Exterminator: “Beetle-headed, flap-ear’d knave.”
Farmer: “Elvish-mark’d abortive, rooting hog.”
Fashion Designer:  “The soul of this man is in his clothes.”
High …

The Reluctant Homemaker

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My Mom and my Grandma made valiant attempts to domesticate me when I was a kid back in the 50s and early 60s.They were worried because I was a tomboy.I was not above playing with dolls.  Some of my best toys were dolls.  But I also had baseball bats, tennis rackets and cap guns.  BB guns were forbidden in our house, or I probably would have acquired one of those, too.*  When we played Cowboys, I had to be either Annie Oakley or Marshall Dillon.  I was not going to be some sissy girl who sat around waiting to be rescued.  I was tall for my age, so I made a good western hero(ine) … well, passable for a kid, anyway.

I never wanted to be a boy.  Being a girl was cool.  I just wanted the option of being able to do all the things that boys did, and I wasn’t about to get stuck in a gender role.  June Cleaver was not my role model.
In other words, I was okay with learning how to cook, sew, iron clothes and clean a house like all the other girls, but I wasn’t going to let all that interfere…

Springing Forward is for Pole Jumpers!

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It’s Sunday morning, March 9, 2014.  Two things are special about today:
1.It’s the First Sunday of Lent 2.It’s this year’s Daylight Savings Time spring forward, lose an hour changeover day.
Two things that nobody looks forward to have punched us in the face at the same time.  It wouldn’t be so bad, except that I have a weekend job as a church singer and I have to sing an 8:45 AM mass every Sunday.
Of course, I made sure to set my alarm clock ahead.  I was not going to mistake the time.
But I forgot to set the alarm.
I wake up at 8:08.  It takes my groggy brain several seconds to realize that I only have about 20 minutes to get dressed, feed the cat, take my morning meds and get out of the house.
I am not a morning person.  I hate mornings.  It all started when I was born at 8:04 on a February morning.  I was forcibly evicted from a nice, warm, soft place into a cold room, held upside down by a doctor and slapped on the rear to make me cry, just so they’d know I was alive.  I never got over …