Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Humor’

Despite never having adopted the metric system for day-to-day use, Americans are familiar with the basic units, like grams, kilograms, meters and such.  But when it comes to lesser known units we’re clueless.  To help the educational process along a bit …

* 1 millionth of a mouthwash = 1 microscope

* Ratio of an igloo’s circumference to its diameter = Eskimo Pi

* 2,000 pounds of Chinese soup = Won ton

* Time between slipping on a peel and smacking the pavement = 1 bananosecond

* 16.5 feet in the Twilight Zone = 1 Rod Serling

* Half of a large intestine = 1 semicolon

* 1,000,000 aches = 1 megahurtz

* Basic unit of laryngitis = 1 hoarsepower

* Shortest distance between two jokes = 1 straightline

* 453.6 graham crackers = 1 pound cake

* 1 million-million microphones = 1 megaphone

* 2 million bicycles = 2 megacycles

* 2000 mockingbirds = 2 kilomockingbirds

* 52 cards = 1 decacards

* 1 kilogram of falling figs = 1 FigNewton

* 1,000 milliliters of wet socks = 1 literhosen

* 1 millionth of a fish = 1 microfiche

* 10 rations = 1 decoration

* 100 rations = 1 C-ration

* 4 nickels = 2 paradigms

* 2.4 statute miles of intravenous surgical tubing at Yale University Hospital = 1 IV League

[author unknown]

Start Cola Early!

Start Cola Early!

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

We just spent several hours observing teenagers hanging out at our local mall.

We came to the conclusion that many teenagers in America today are living in poverty.  Most young men we observed didn’t even own a belt; there was not one among the whole group.

But that wasn’t the sad part.  Many were wearing their daddy’s jeans.  Some jeans were so big and baggy they hung low on their hips, exposing their underwear.  We know some must have been ashamed their daddy was short, because his jeans hardly went below their knees.  They weren’t even their daddies’ good jeans, for most had holes ripped in the knees and a dirty look to them.

It grieved us, in a modern, affluent society like America, that there are those who can’t afford a decent pair of jeans.  We were thinking about asking our church to start a jeans drive for “poor kids at the mall.”  Then, on Christmas Eve, we could go Christmas caroling at the mall and distribute jeans to these poor teenagers.

But here is the saddest part…it was the girls they were hanging out with that disturbed us most.  Never, in all of our lives, have we seen such poverty-stricken girls.  These girls had the opposite problem of the guys.  They all had to wear their little sister’s clothes.  Their jeans were about 5 sizes too small!

We don’t know how they could get them on, let alone button them up.  Their jeans barely went over their hip bones.  Most also had on their little sister’s top; it hardly covered their midsections.  Oh, they were trying to hold their heads up with pride, but it was a sad sight to see these almost grown women wearing children’s clothes.

However, it was their underwear that bothered us most.  They, like they boys, because of the improper fitting of their clothes, had their underwear exposed.  We had never seen anything like it.  It looked like their underwear was only held together by a single piece of string.

We know it saddens your heart to receive this report on the condition of our American teenagers.  While we go to bed every night with closets full of clothes nearby, there are millions of “mall girls” who barely have enough material to keep it together.  We think their “poorness” is why these 2 groups gather at the mall; boys with their short daddies’ ripped jeans, and girls wearing their younger sisters’ clothes.  The mall is one place where they can find acceptance.  So, next time you are at the mall, doing your shopping, and you pass by some of these poor teenagers, would you say a prayer for them?

One more thing:  Will you pray the guys’ pants won’t fall down, and the girls’ strings wont’ break?

We thank you all,

Two Concerned Grandmothers

[author unknown]

Happy Eating Lard

Happy Eating Lard

Read Full Post »

  1. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad’s underwear when he’s on the toilet.
  2. I will believe my owners when they tell me that the garbage collector is NOT stealing our stuff.
  3. I will not suddenly stand straight up when I’m lying under the coffee table.
  4. I will not roll my toys behind the fridge.
  5. I will shake the rainwater out of my fur BEFORE entering the house.
  6. I will not eat the cats’ food…before OR after they eat it.
  7. I will stop trying to find the few remaining pieces of clean carpet in the house when I am about to throw up.
  8. I will not throw up in the car.
  9. I will not roll on dead things: seagulls, fish, crabs, etc.
  10. I will not lick my human’s face after eating animal poo.
  11. I will resolve to remember that “Kitty box crunchies” are not food.
  12. I will not eat any more socks and then redeposit them in the backyard after processing.
  13. I will stop acting like the diaper pail is my very own cookie jar.
  14. I will not wake Mommy up by sticking my cold, wet nose up her bottom end.
  15. I will not chew my human’s toothbrush and not tell them.
  16. I will not chew crayons or pens, especially not the red ones or my people will think I am hemorrhaging.
  17. When in the car, I will not insist on having the window rolled down when it’s raining outside.
  18. I will remember that we do not have a doorbell.
  19. I will not bark each time I hear one on TV.
  20. I will not steal my Mom’s underwear and dance all over the back yard with it.
  21. I will not treat the sofa as a face towel or Mom & Dad’s laps.
  22. I will remember that my head does not belong in the refrigerator.
  23. I will not bite the officer’s hand when he reaches in for Mom’s driver’s license and car registration.

[author unknown]

Funny Santa Cartoon

Funny Santa Cartoon

Read Full Post »

December 14, 2010

Dearest Dave,

I went to the door today, and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree.  This was a delightful gift!  I couldn’t have been more surprised or pleased darling!

With truly the deepest love,
Agnes

December 15, 2010

Dearest Dave,

Today the postman brought me yet another of your sweet gifts.  The two turtle doves that arrived today are adorable, and I’m delighted by your thoughtful and generous ways.

With all of my love,
Your Agnes

December 16, 2010

Dearest Dave,

You’ve truly been too kind!  I must protest; I don’t deserve such generosity.  The thought of getting three French hens amazes me.  Yet, I am not surprised–what more should I expect from such a nice person.

Love,
Agnes

December 17, 2010

Dear Dave,

Four calling birds arrived in the mail today.  They are truly nice but don’t you think that enough is enough?  You are being too romantic.

Affectionately,
Agnes

December 18, 2010

Dearest darling Dave,

It was a surprise to get five golden rings!  I now have one for every finger.  You truly are impossible darling, yet oh how I love it!  Quite frankly, all of those squawking birds from the previous days were starting to get on my nerves.  Yet, you managed to come through with a beautiful, valuable gift!

All my love,
Agnes

December 19, 2010

Dear Dave,

When I opened my door, there were actually six geese a-laying on my front steps.  So, you’re back to the birds again, huh?  Those geese are dear, but where will I keep them?  The neighbors are complaining, and I am unable to sleep with all the racket.  Please stop, dear.

Cordially,
Agnes

December 20, 2010

Dave,

What is with you and those stupid birds!?  Seven swans a-swimming!!  What kind of sick joke is this!!??  There are bird droppings everywhere!  They never shut up, and I don’t get any sleep!!!  I’m a nervous wreck!  It’s not funny you weirdo, so stop with the birds.

Sincerely,
Agnes

December 21, 2010

O.K. wise guy,

The birds were bad enough.  Now what do you expect me to do with eight maids a-milking?  If that’s not bad enough, they had to bring their cows!!  The front lawn was completely ruined by them, and I can’t move in my own house!  Just lay off me or you’ll be sorry!

Agnes

December 22, 2010

Hey loser,

What are you?  You must be some kind of sadist!!  Now there are nine pipers playing, and they certainly do play!  They haven’t stopped chasing those maids since they got here!  The cows are getting upset, and they’re stepping all over those screeching birds.  The neighbors are getting up a petition to evict me, and I’m going out of my mind!

You’ll get yours!
Agnes

December 23, 2010

You rotten scum!!!

There are now ten ladies dancing!  There is only one problem with that!  They’re dancing twenty-four hours a day all around me with the pipers upsetting the cows and the maids.  The cows can’t sleep, and they are going to the bathroom everywhere!  The building commissioner has subpoenaed me to give cause as to why the house shouldn’t be condemned!  I can’t even think of a reason!  You creep!  I’m sicking the police on you!

One who means it!

December 24, 2010

Listen you evil, sadistic, maniac!

What’s with the eleven lords-a-leaping?!?  They are leaping across the rooms breaking everything and even injuring some of the maids!  The place smells, is an absolute mad house, and is about to be condemned!  At least the birds are quiet; they were trampled to death by the cows.  I hope you are satisfied–you rotten vicious, worthless piece of garbage!

Your sworn enemy,
Agnes

December 25, 2010

The Law Offices of
Badger, Rees, and Yorker
20 Knave Street
Chicago, Illinois

Dear sir,

This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers-fiddling, which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, one Agnes McHolstein.  The destruction of course was total.  If you attempt to reach Ms. McHolstein at Happy Daze Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on site.

Please direct all correspondence to this office in the future.  With this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest.

Cordially,
Badger, Rees, and Yorker

[author unknown]

Reindeer Helping Santa Claus

Reindeer Helping Santa Claus

Read Full Post »

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
In hopes we could manage “Some Assembly Required.”

The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
While Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
A kitchen, two bikes, Barbie‘s town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!

We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a beat….
Let no parts be missing or parts incomplete!
Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
If we can’t get it right, it goes in the basement!

When what to my worrying eyes should appear,
But 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,
With each part numbered and every slot named,
So if we failed, only we could be blamed.

More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
All over the carpet they were scattered about.
Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!

Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand.”
Honey,” said hubby, “you just glued my hand.”
And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
That all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact

To keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
With “assembly required” till morning’s first light.
We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
Till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.

The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
Before we attached the last rod and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in the chest,
We fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.

But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we’ll cheer, let the holiday ring,
And not have to run to the store for a thing!

We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
For the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!

Then off to dreamland and sweet repose I gratefully went,
Though I suppose there’s something to say for those self-deluded…
I’d forgotten that batteries are never included!

[author unknown]

Merry Alien Christmas

Merry Alien Christmas

Read Full Post »

I consider myself somewhat of a manly man. I like to do physical things.  Admittedly, I am not the best at fixing things.  But give me a chance to hike, fish and hunt, and I am right there.  I have gutted my fair share of fish and deer and various birds and smaller game.  Like most outdoors men, I have had a chance to push the limits of my own endurance and then take pride in retelling the experience.

There is, however, one thing that cowers me into a namby-pamby girly-man. It is the site of my own flesh-and-blood’s flesh and blood.  The experience of being at the birth of my two sons was not inspiration for me.  It was traumatic.  The birthing instructor was a bold-faced liar when she cheerily told my wife and me, “Blood?  No!  There’s almost no blood involved in child birth.”  Yeah, right.  My wife screaming in pain and the sight of blood sent me into a shock that rendered me mute and useless to my poor wife.  Good thing her best friend was there.  She took over.

When our two daughters were born at home with a mid-wife, it was mutually decided that my wife would be better off with close friends and family at her side than her husband. And so it came to pass.  I do not think I missed anything by not being there to “play catcher”.  I enjoyed my newborn daughters shortly after their loudly proclaimed and bloody arrival.  They were handed to me clean and pretty as all newly born little girls should arrive into the world, not wrinkly and bloody like my two boys arrived (which, come to think of it, may be a proper portent of things to come).

Our oldest daughter arrived into the world with a sweet tooth. As soon as she learned to totter on her own two feet, she could easily be called to one’s side with the sound of unwrapping candy and gum.  Her acute hearing for such sounds was a marvel to everyone.  At the sound of any wrapper crinkling, she would come running.

Unfortunately, for the grandmotherly types in our little church at the time, her cuteness and irresistible personality caused them all to disgorge their purses of any gum or candy they had available every Sunday. So, my daughter would return home from church each Sunday looking like she had just gone trick-or-treating on Halloween.  For her, every Sunday was Halloween.  Church was not a place to find God as much as it was a place to find candy.  After she went to bed at night, we would find candy and gum wrappers under her bed and pillow as well as leftover uneaten pieces tightly gripped in her tiny fists as she slept.

This, sadly, did her no favors as she developed really bad cavities in her baby teeth by the time she was three. Several were serious enough to threaten the budding permanent teeth behind them.  Thus, we were advised by our regular dentist to take her to see a pediatric dentist to have the cavities taken care of as soon as possible.  We made an appointment with one in Gig Harbor, Washington.

I was still a young father then and had not yet learned my physical and psychological limits to familial pain and blood-letting. So, I offered to take my daughter to the dentist.  I figured it would be a good father-daughter bonding time as we had an hour-and-a-half drive to the dentist and back again.  I loaded her into our little red Subaru wagon and off we went.

After a long drive of noticing the passing scenery, singing to the “oldies but goodies” on the radio and chattering away upon childhood topics, we arrived at a beautiful brand new building. The pediatric dentist’s office was located on the second floor of the building, which had a large, airy open atrium with a glass ceiling and tiled floor with a coffee barista right in the middle of it.  As we walked into the main doors, the smell of fresh coffee hung in the air along with the sound of an espresso machine working overtime to satisfy the thirsty and drowsy morning customers.

I decided against the elevator, so we walked up the double stair-flight to the second floor. Soon, we were standing in front of the dentist’s office door.  I looked down at my daughter with her blonde golden curls and bright blue eyes.  She looked up at me and smiled her big, wide toothy smile full of confidence.  I smiled back and opened the door.

The large room we entered was made for children. Bright colors, big toys, cartoon pictures on the walls and balloons decorated the room.  There were children playing and parents looking on, smiling, and talking in whispers to other parents.  Needless to say, I was impressed.  What a great place to bring your very young child to have dentistry work done.

I took my daughter’s hand and we made our way over to the registration counter. After acknowledging our names and appointment, I was handed a clip board with a cord’s worth of firewood for paperwork.  I have never liked filling out paper work.  But I found a seat with my daughter and started on the hundred’s of questions.  Every page needed the same information at the top: name, address, phone number, social security numbers, emergency contact and their numbers and the VIN number of the first car you owned.

I returned the filled-out paper work to the kind lady at the counter and took my seat to wait. It was only a few minutes before a nurse called my daughter’s name and my name.  We were escorted into a small dentist’s work room with the same childhood decor that we saw in the waiting room.  I thought to my self that it would be fun to work in such a bright and cheery place.  Such surroundings couldn’t help but bring out the innocent child in all of us.

Soon, the doctor arrived. She was a very beautiful young doctor, well dressed in a bright yellow colored pant suit that accentuated her red hair.  She looked like she was dressed to go to a professional presentation for pediatric dentists, not about to delve into the mouth of my daughter or any other child’s mouth for that matter.  Her demeanor and look reflected a person who had it all together with her prefect hair, make-up and clothes.

She smiled sweetly to my daughter, knelt before her and engaged her in a friendly conversation. Soon, she easily maneuvered my daughter up on to the dentist’s chair and was looking in her mouth.  I thought to myself, “This lady is good!

I felt myself relax and more willing to place my daughter into her care. Shortly, she turned to me and explained to me what she was going to do.  Then she invited, “Mr. Almberg, you are more than welcome to wait in the waiting room or go downstairs and get a cup of coffee.  We will be about an hour.”  I thanked her and shook her hand, turned to my daughter with a reassuring smile and kissed her on the forehead, which was returned with that big toothy smile.

Confidently, I left the room, walked through the waiting room and headed to the atrium to the coffee stand. As I made my way down the stairs to the first floor, I crowed to myself how easy all of this was going.  The warm fragrance of coffee caught my attention and I was soon focused on getting some caffeine in my favorite latte flavor.  It had already been a long day.  The appointment was made for early morning so we had been on the road since 6:30 am.

I paid for my coffee and found one of the overstuffed leather couches located near by. I selected one that was situated with the sun coming through the window upon it.  I picked up several magazines lying around on various tables and finally settled upon an old dog-eared PEOPLE magazine.  I planned on relaxing and enjoying a few moments of solitude before the long ride back home.

Only into the second page of the first article in the PEOPLE magazine, I heard a faint scream come from a far away room.  “Wow,” I thought to myself.   “That must be what the Spanish Inquisition must have sounded like.  Poor person.  I wonder where that is coming from…who that is?”  There was another scream, but this one more discernible.

Suddenly, a sick feeling came over my stomach as if my latte had been served up with sour milk. I recognized the voice in that scream.  There was no mistaking it as another scream echoed through the atrium.  It was most certainly my daughter.  I looked around at the people scattered around the room.  They all looked at one another and then it seemed as if they looked at me with an accusing stair, “How could you!!?”  I stuck my nose deeper into the magazine trying to find some anonymity.

I tried to enjoy my latte but, with every piercing cry, it was becoming more difficult.  I had given up on attempting to read any magazine articles after the first fifteen minutes went by on the clock.  Fortunately, the screams grew more and more less frequent.  However, this only tended to add to the tension.  The silence in between led to an anticipation of when the next one would come.  Just about the time that I thought it would never come after all, there would come another crying echo throughout the building’s chambers.

Pink Wild Flower, Summer 2009

Pink Wild Flower, Summer 2009 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Finally, I could not stand the suspense any more.  I drained my now cold latte and headed up the stairs to the dentist’s office.  After a half-an-hour, I was starting to think that they perhaps needed my help.  I did not consider what that help could possibly be, but I had to find out any way.  I entered the office, only to enter another universe.

As I came through the door, the same calmness that had greeted me the first time was still there.  The room had not changed decor, children were happily playing and parents were mildly watching and chatting with one another.  “Don’t they know that my daughter is being tortured in there?” I wondered.  I went to the front desk.

Yes, I am Ron Almberg.  My daughter is being worked on right now and I am wondering if she is all right.”

The polite lady behind the counter smiled at me and said, “Let me check for you.  I’ll be right back.”  Then she disappeared around a corner.  I could imagine her going down the hall and into the little torture room that they were keeping my daughter in.  I waited impatiently for some news.

Finally, after only a few moments, she returned and said, “The doctor said that they have had some difficulty with your daughter but everything is going fine right now.  She said she should be done in about 15 or 20 minutes.”

OK,” I timidly returned.  “I’ll just wait over there.”  And pointed to a chair in the waiting room.

I took my seat. However, moving into the waiting room only made things worse for me.  Not only was the noise level louder, but one could hear the sounds of dentist tools doing their worst.  My hands grew clammy and I started to shake.

Just about the time I thought that I could not take any more, all of the noise stopped. After several more minutes passed by, the door to the way to the dungeon opened and out stepped my daughter.  Her mouth was stuffed with a few pieces of cotton, her hair mussed up, her eyes almost swollen shut from crying so hard.  Later, we discover that she had broken blood vessels in her face from screaming so hard.

I looked up at the doctor as she came through the door behind my daughter. She was the polar opposite of the picture of perfection that I had seen earlier that morning.  Her dress suit’s blouse was askew, her fair fell out in several places and the make-up on her face was worn and blotched like she had just come from someone’s funeral.  She smiled a crooked but victorious tired looking smile.

As you probably heard,” she began.  “We had some difficulty getting your daughter to settle down so that we could do the work on her.  We finally had to put her in what we call a “papoose”.  I was able to treat all the real bad cavities; however, we just were not able to get to the lesser ones.  I would recommend just monitoring them.  As long as they don’t get any worse, she will be fine until they fall out when her permanent teeth come in.”

Thank you, doctor,” I replied.

Without further comment she turned and disappeared behind the door.  “She looks terrible,” I thought.  “I wonder if she’ll take the rest of the day off.

I picked up my daughter with her swollen and Novicained face. We returned to the car for a long ride home.  I had planned on stopping in Silverdale for a treat, but she immediately fell asleep in the car and did not awake until we got home.  Then I laid down and slept the rest of the day.

The next Sunday, an announcement was put in the church bulletin and made from the pulpit.  “Please do not feed the Almberg’s daughter anymore candy of any kind!  She had to have cavities filled in her baby teeth this last week.  Anyone found doing so will be excommunicated and shunned.  May the Lord have mercy upon your soul.  The Almberg’s thank you for your help.  The pediatric dentists of America thank you.”

Except for one little church grandma lady who turned to sugar-free gum, we had no more trouble with church candy coming home.  Thanks to the pediatric dentist who saved her teeth, our daughter, to this day has a wonderful toothy smile.  But you will always find a piece of gum stuck in it.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

Read Full Post »

SCHIZOPHRENIADo You Hear What I Hear?

DEMENTIA: I Think I’ll Be Home For Christmas

MANIC: Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and…

PARANOID: Santa Claus Is Coming To Get Me

PERSONALITY DISORDER: You Better Watch Out, I’m Gonna Cry, I’m Gonna Pout, Maybe I’ll Tell You Why

OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE DISORDER: Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, …….. (better start again)

PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE PERSONALITY: On The First Day of Christmas My True Love Gave To Me (and then took it all away)

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER: Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire.

[author unknown]

Christmas Drinks Humor

Christmas Drinks Humor

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: