Month: August 2024

Big Party

One day a city stockbroker decides he has just had too much. Too much stress, too much of the big city, too much everything. So he quits him job, gives up his apartment and rents out a Cabin in the middle of the wilderness. For six months he lives in tranquillity and isolation. Then, one day, there is a knock at the door.

He opens the door to see this huge lumberjack with a giant beard shuffling from foot to foot nervously. Eventually the big man speaks:

“I’m yer neighbour from the cabin about a mile down the road. Anyhow, I’m having a party on Saturday and I wondered if you’d like to come.”

The guy pauses for a second and then replies: “You know what, that would be great. It is about time I got out and it would be nice to meet some new people. I’d love to come.”

“Right,” says the lumberjack, looking a little relieved. “I’ll see you about eight o’clock on Saturday then.” And then he turns to leave.

But he pauses for a second and then turns back: “I should probably warn you, there is gonna be some pretty heavy drinking.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s OK. I used to drink quite a bit myself back in the city, so I think I’ll be alright with a bit of hard liquor.”

“Right then,” says the big man. “Well, eight o’clock then.”

But as he turns to go he pauses again and turns back: “Yeah, I should also mention: most likely there will also be a bit of fighting before the evening finishes.”

“Uh, well, OK,” the guy replies. “I mean, I get on pretty well with most people so I don’t see that being a problem. But if it gets rough, then I am sure I can take care of myself.”

“Right then,” says the big man. “See you at eight o’clock then.”

But once again he pauses and turns back, scratching his beard: “So I probably also need to tell you: there might be some pretty wild sex.”

The guy perks up a bit at that. “Well, you know, we are all consenting adults. And after all this time out here alone, I don’t think I’d have any problem with some intimate company if that’s what happens.”

“OK then,” says the man. “Well, see you Saturday.” And with that he turns and starts to stroll away.

“Oh wait, just one question,” says the guy. “What should I wear?”

The lumberjack pauses to think, and scratches his beard again. “I don’t suppose it really matters much. I just gonna be you and me.”

Now, Nobody Loves Me

My little niece Jenny got some quality time with scissors. She walked into the room holding a long lock of freshly shorn hair. She’d sheared her waist-length hair into a jagged mess right above the ear. Shocked, my sister burst into tears and fled the room. Following her mother’s lead, Chelsea, her little sister wailed and ran. Turning to her dad, Jenny wept and said, “I cut my hair and now, now nobody loves me!”

Irish Drinking Jokes

A garda was patrolling down O’Connell Streetin Dublin when he sees two fellas pissing up against the window of a shop. He parks the car and runs over to them.

He asks the first fella for his name and address. The man replies, ‘I’m Paddy O’Toole of no fixed abode.’ 

The Garda turns to the second fella and asks the same question.

He replies, ‘I’m Ben Riordain, and I live in the flat above Paddy!’”

Delirrrrrah

“Anto’s missus was in the Rotunda Hospital, ready to give birth to their first child. 

When they arrived, the nurse asked, ‘How dilated is she, sir?’.

Anto replied, ‘Delighted? She’s over the fu*king moon!‘”

Ordering a pint

“‘Sorry, love, can I have a pint of Guinnessand a packet of crisps where you’re ready there’.

‘Oh. You must be Irish‘, she replied. The man was evidently offended and responded, ‘The cheek, just because I order a pint of Guinness you assume I’m Irish. 

If I ordered a bowl of pasta would you that make me Italian?!’

‘No’ she replied. ‘But this is a newsagents…‘”

Feeling himself

“Sheamus drops into the local pub on the way back home from visiting the doctor. ‘What’s the story?’ Paddy asks when he sees the look on Sheamus’s face.

‘I haven’t been feeling myself lately‘, Sheamus replied. ‘That’s good’ says Paddy. ‘Sure you’d be arrested for less!’”

Flies in a pint

This is one of the many Irish stereotype jokes that’s flying around, but unlike many it isn’t exactly offensive.

“An Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman wander into a little old pub in Kildare. They each ask the barman for a pint of Guinness. After the pints are placed onto the bar, three bluebottles drop into each man’s freshly poured pint.

The Englishman pushes his pint away in disgust and orders up another. The Scot reaches in and plucks the fly out.

The Irishman reaches in, picks the fly out, holds it up close to his face and shouts, “Spit it out you little b*stard.””

Legal advice

“An English lawyer was sat with his Irish client. ‘Marty’ he sighed, ‘Why is it that whenever you ask an Irishman a question, he replies with another question?’‘Bollocks. Who told you that?’ asked Marty.”

Death by Guinness

It’s been doing the rounds on WhatsApp for a while, but hopefully it’ll give you a laugh.

“It was a cold Friday evening when the doorbell rang is Mrs Molloy’s house. When she answered the door, Pat Glynn, her husband’s manager at the brewery, was stood on the doorstep.

‘Pat. Hello. Where’s my husband? He should have been home from work 3 hours ago?’ The man sighed. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mrs Molloy, but there was an accident over in the brewery. Your husband fell into a vat of Guinness and drowned’.

Ten shots, please

‘Oh my God’ she replied. ‘Please tell me it was quick?!’ ‘Well… no. It wasn’t. He climbed out 4 times to take a p*ss‘.”

“Ben walked into the local bar all a fluster and ordered seven shots of Irish whiskeyand a pint of Smwithicks. When the barman arrived back with the pint, all of the shots of whiskey had been drunk.

‘Ah here, you drank those very quickly‘ said the barman. ‘Well’ says Ben, ‘If you had what I had you’d drink them quickly, too’.

‘Shite’ replied the barman ‘What do you have?’ ‘A tenner’ replied Ben.”

Your Money is No Good Here

It’s good to compare notes with your family. My brother just told me my dad helped his brother-in-law counterfeit quarters back in the 1930s. Daddy’s oldest sister, Aunt Jenny, married Uncle Chester, a bona fide reprobate, a rabble-rousing drunk who enlisted Daddy to help with his quarter counterfeiting business. I don’t know if Daddy would have even qualified for reform school if he’d gotten caught, since he was just a hungry little kid trying to win a place at Aunt Jenny’s table for a few days. Mama and his younger sisters were about to starve since his own father was sick in bed at his mother’s house. Grandma wanted nothing to do with her daughter-in-law and the grandkids, though she was willing to care for her son. The boys were pretty much working for room and board anywhere they could.

At any rate, Uncle Chester made pretty good quarters, a time-consuming job requiring a steadier hand than his, since he was rarely sober. According the Daddy, Uncle Chester made impressions of both side of quarters using Plaster of Paris casts lined with onion-skin paper. The steady hands were needed to line the molds up and glue them together, leaving a tiny pour-hole at the top, where they could pour in Uncle Chester’s special melted alloy. Once the ragged quarters set, a little artistry work was required to finish them off. Voila! Quarters!

 

 

 

 

Uncle Chester had no trouble passing his bogus quarters at the grocery store, the mercantile, and the hardware store. The problem came at the bar. Though he was normally stingy and careful, one night he got a snootful and wanted to buy a round for everybody in the house. Indiscreetly, he brought out a bag of quarters to pay his tab. They didn’t ring true when he poured them on the counter. The proprietor objected, Uncle Chester tore into him, and Uncle Chester ended up in Leavenworth.

That really wasn’t so bad. His cell-mate taught him to make twenty-dollar bills. Before long, Uncle Chester was out, but wasn’t able to pass his twenties because he couldn’t get the color just right. After a number of frustrating attempts, he poured up some quarters and headed back to the bar. When he poured his clinky quarters out on the bar, just as Uncle Chester anticipated, the bar-tender objected. “Are you telling me my money’s no good?” A fight and arrest ensued. Uncle Chester went back to Leavenworth for a refresher, polished his craft, and never had any more counterfeiting troubles.

All’s well that ends well.

Footloose and Fancy Free (Part 3)

breastBobo’s old truck rattled in one Saturday about four. White-headed kids in overalls piled out of the back, their bare feet kicking up a dust. Fishing poles dangled out of the truck bed. Grinning, Bobo slung a stringer of bream over his shoulder. Inez slid out of the front seat, wagging a newborn and helping her twin toddlers slide to the ground. One was diapered,one not. She laughed, explaining, “His britches stunk too bad for the front. Sometimes that busted glass works out purty good! The kids in the back didn’t care nohow long as the truck was a’movin’.”

While Daddy and Bobo cleaned the fish, Mother and Inez peeled potatoes. Long before the days of paper plates, we had to make do. The bigger kids got to sit on the kitchen floor with pie plates. Fried fish and French-fries were finger food. Toddlers sat at the table next to their mamas. As the adults started eating, I was amazed when Inez casually pulled out an enormous breast. Her baby rooted and snapped it up. I’d never seen anything so shocking. Mother was so modest, she triple-locked the bathroom door. I’d never even seen her in her panties. My mouth flew open, “Mother, that baby’s eatin’ its Mama!”

Annie Sleeps Around

dalmation 2More on Annie, our foul-tempered, farting, fat, Dalmatian who only liked the neighbor kid across the street.

One of Annie’s loveliest traits was that it was impossible to keep her off the furniture. When we told the kids to go to bed, she was the first to hit the bed. Anyone careless enough to leave a bedroom door open could count on a bed partner as soon as they drifted off. A couple of houseguests were awakened by the crushing weight of a heavy, nasty, growling surprise when they didn’t shut their door securely. No featherweight, she’d heft herself on atop an unfortunate sleeper with no concern whatsoever for whomever might be occupying that bed. It was common to hear one of us yell out “Get out, Annie!” followed by a nasty tempered, low growl, then the padding of feet down the hall.

From another room, a from a muffled voice would let out a big “Oof! Annie! Get over!” There’d be some shuffling from that bed till she crowded that victim enough to get moved along.

Annie had no intention of going outdoors when we left. When she heard us making preparations to leave, she’d sneak stealthily back to the kid’s room. We turned to tables on her own day, announcing we were on our way out, making a great show of leaving, then awaiting her by the door. As soon as the door shut, she came prancing in the living room, prepared to jump on the sofa. She was mortified when she spotted us, dropped her head, and walked to the front door to be put out. It was good to get the best of her for once.

Tea Cakes

What’s your favorite recipe?

My grandmother and Mother made these. I made them for my children. My daughter makes these. Who knows how far back this recipe goes?

Tea Cakes

preheat oven to 340(not 350)

3 cups self-rising flour(if using plain add 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder and a pinch of salt per cup flour)

2 cups sugar

8 oz softened butter

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla

Just enough milk to make very firm dough

Cream sugar, butter, egg, vanilla. Mix in flour a cup at a time. May have to add milk to complete mixing to consistency of playdo. Reserve a bit of flour to dust top of dough and hands. Roll into 1 inch balls. Place on greased cookie sheet with cookies not touching. Bake on middle rack about 12 minutes. Then take pans out and turn around to bake evenly. Cook another 7 minutes just until edges start to brown. Tops will still be soft. If you overcook, they get hard. We love them soft. Cool on a rack. You can roll and freeze to prepare ahead.

If desired, press center down and add a dollop of jam or center with chocolate kiss before baking.

I hope your family loves these as much as mine does.

Photo borrowed from All recipes

Footloose and Fancyfree (Part 2)

True - Wedding Dresses for Pregnant Women

Even though the occasion of Bobo and Inez’s marriage preceeded my birth by a few days, Mother has told me the story so often, I feel I was there. Bobo showed up with his bride just hours after they married. No doubt, he was proud of her. He was twenty-seven; she, fifteen and visibly pregnant. Now, he’d be arrested. Quite a buxom lass, she was lovely. Mother was surprised they’d dropped by for a social call so soon after the wedding, since she’d only met Bobo once. She learned a lot in the next few minutes, as Bobo announced they’d be spending the next few days. “We just run off. Inez’s mama was pretty hot ’bout the baby. I reckon she’ll let me fix up Granny Ada’s old house on her place once she finds out we married. I can pull some boards off that ol’ barn o’ hearn ‘n it ain’t gonna cost her nuthin but a few nails and some wire to cover the winders. We jist need a place to stay till we git ‘er cooled off. She ain’t gonna let this here gran’baby do without.”

Daddy was fine with that. They had plenty of room.  There was a sofa in the living room not spoken for. Mother’s baby might not come for a few days. Phyllis still slept in their room in the baby bed. Bobo and Inez got the fold-out couch in the minute living room. The tiny three-room house was cozy. Since Mother was overdue to give birth, I don’t think the sounds of noisy sex coming from hers and Daddy’s bedroom were likely to have disturbed the guests, considering her feelings, at the time. From what Mother said, Bobo and Inez probably couldn’t have heard anything over the enthusiastic noises in honeymoon suite. The walls were like paper. Bobo and Inez seemed very happy in their marriage.

Mother dreaded facing them the morning after. Daddy had gone to work out the back door to give them privacy. When they came out to breakfast, Bobo laughed and said, “Inez looked and looked, but she can’t find her buzzeer(hick for brassiere). Ha! Ha! Ha! Where’d y’all hide it?”

Mother was mortified he even thought they was might have been sneaking around anywhere the cavorting newlweds. “I don’t know anything about it. I know Bill never moved. Once he goes to sleep, he’s dead to the world. I’ll help Inez hunt it.” They tore the living room up, moving all the furniture. The search was fruitless. Inez went braless for the next two or three days, years ahead of the trend. Years later, when the living room was remodeled, the impressive brassiere was found between the walls. Apparently, a lecherous rat had paid them a visit during the night.

to be continued………

Don’t Play with …..

Image courtesy of Pixabay

Bud and I compared notes on our sex education back in the fifties.   “Oh yeah, I got one sentence.  ‘Quit playing with your goober.’ ”

I think I got sex uneducation instead.  Mother kept us under her eagle eye.  “You kids play here where I can see you.”  Should we get quiet while playing, she’d be on us in a heartbeat to breakup any attempts to investigate  or “play doctor.”  Believe me, we did not get play doctor kits.  Despite my best efforts, I rarely even got a chance to peak at a baby boy having his diaper changed.  When I finally did get my eyes on the prize, I came away thinking girls were plain and boys were fancy.  Mother was so modest that when my brother and I were toddlers we bathed together in our underwear.  I was probably in school before I bathed in the nude.

Pregnancy didn’t exist.  Women “were expecting” instead, but that was mentioned in whispers only to ladies.  I don’t know how men ever got the news.  The television snapped off instantly if a woman went into labor.   Had to get my sex education the way God intended, from my equally  ignorant friends.  I learned some amazing things from my friend Margaret Green.  She matured early, getting breasts and starting her menses at ten.  Until then, it hadn’t occurred to me that the same calamity might befall me.

Margaret eagerly shared her amalgam of misinformation with me.  Women got pregnant (not expecting) when a man climbed on top of her in bed and peed on her.  The baby breathed through the mother’s belly button.  If she was submersed, the baby would suffocate.  A girl could get pregnant sleeping with another girl.  The baby had to be cut out of the mother.  I’m sure there was much more.  I just remember the important parts.

I must have been crazy.  I went straight to more with Margaret’s wild tales, sure she was lying.  Mother was so mad Margaret opened Pandora’s box.  She had no choice but to give me the very most basic explanation.  I was so disgusted upon learning the mysteries of life.  “That’s awful.  I am never getting married!”  That was fine with Mother.  However, I was relieved to find out that there would be no peeing.

I can’t imagine how my mother had five children as much as she disapproved of sex.