A woman had two female parrots who were always yelling, “We’re prostitutes, wanna have a little fun?” One day, she was talking to her Preacher about this. He said he had two male parrots and all they did was read the Bible. He thought perhaps they would be a good influence on the two females. So they put the four parrots together. So, the females yelled at the male parrots, “We’re prostitutes, wanna have a little fun?” One male parrot said to the other, “Put the Bibles away! We’ve made it to heaven!”
Dear Auntie Linda, September 12, 2015
Dear Auntie Linda, There are a lot of secrets in our family. Even though I am in my forties and Mother in her late seventies, there are lots of things that went on that I can’t understand that I don’t feel free to ask Mother about. My father was physically abusive to the kids and emotionally and psychologically abusive to the whole family. When I try to discuss this with Mother, she says it wasn’t all that bad. I know there are many other things that were covered up. When I try to talk to her, she gets pitiful and says she couldn’t leave because she couldn’t support the children on her own. She manipulates the situation by being pitiful and powerless. She is very emotionally dependent on me. I would like to have an honest conversation but think I’d end up feeling worse by pressing her for answers. What does a person do in this situation? Frustrated
Dear Frustrated, Sounds like your mother makes being powerless work for her. Do you think insisting she talk to you would make you feel better or worse? Your mother may not be much help. This is likely to be a journey you make by another route. Good luck.
Dear Auntie Linda, I love my cousin, Jody dearly, but she is a compulsive liar and spender, and wears such skimpy clothes I am not comfortable going out in public with her. She lies for no reason. For example, when my kids had strep throat, she said they were quarantined for three days, a ridiculous statement. Another time, she said she had won a thousand dollars in a store giveaway to explain how she came up with extravagant gifts, when she’d actually charged them. She has accused family members of making passes at her and wears her shorts so short that pubic hair shows in front and her butt cheeks hang out in back. At a family funeral, her dress was so low-cut somebody got her a sweater. I can’t enjoy my time with her because I am constantly bombarded by wild tales, am aware of her deep financial troubles, and dread seeing more of her than I ever want to. How does family deal with someone like this? Embarrassed Cousin
Dear Embarrassed Cousin, Cousin Jody obviously has some deep problems. When she tells a lie directly about you, don’t hesitate to correct it on the spot, or as soon as you hear it. I am quite sure others have noticed her lying. If she makes you uncomfortable with what she wears when you are together, don’t be shy. Let her know. When she’s coming to a social event, tell her it’s G-rated. She needs to put some clothes on. Being subtle won’t work. While you can’t do anything about her spending, just don’t shop with her or accept gifts. Jody needs somebody to point out when she’s out of control. You can be direct without being unkind. Auntie Linda
Joke of the Day/Redneck Jokes
Emma Sue died during the night and Her husband Buddy called 911. 911 operator told Buddy that she would send someone out right away. “Where do you live?” asked the operator.
Buddy replied, “At the end of Eucalyptus Drive.”
The operator asked, “Can you spell that for me?”
There was a long pause and finally Buddy said, “How ’bout if I just drag her over to Oak Street.”
Redneck Computer Terms
Hard drive – Trying to climb a steep, muddy hill with 3 flat tires and pulling a trailer load of fertilizer.
Keyboard – Place to hang your truck keys.
Window – Place in the truck to hang your guns.
Modem – How you got rid of your dandelions. Usage: “We gonna modem dandelions”
ROM – Liquor often mixed with Coke
Byte – Beginning of an insult, often followed by the word “me” or “this”
Cursor – The person doing the cursing. What some guys do when they are mad at their wife and/or girlfriend.
Tab – What you owe the bartender
Shift – How you get to a different gear.
RAM – Great truck
Edit – Past tense of “eat” “Wher’d that leftover possum belly go?” ” You edit afore you passed out las nite.
Internet – Where her fish were when she caught em ( In er net).
Fonts – That really cool guy from the show, Happy Days.
Laptop – Where the stripper sits.
His Last Two Bucks
Several years ago, I dreamed of camping by a mountain stream. About 3:30 am, Bud got up to go to the bathroom, stepping into about two inches of standing water. The plumbing under the bathroom sink had sprung a leak, flooding the house, hence my dream about the babbling brook. We were both sloshing around like mad, though clearly, nothing we did was going to make a great difference right then, except for cutting off the flood and opening the doors to let the house drain. We were surveying the damage when Bud went back in the bathroom for solace and discovered the greatest loss of all, soaked toilet tissue. I can still hear his heartbroken cry. “Well, <%#>*^. ;3~#}”£! I spent my last two bucks on toilet tissue and didn’t even get to take a s___!
Comment from Newin Defol
| I was once the shared owner of a Samoyed dog – not dissimilar in appearance to Buzzy, the same snow white colour, but perhaps a little larger (he was a male), and learnt a thing or to (the hard way!) about the upkeep and daily maintenance of these gentle and endearing long hair breeds (We acquired bags and bags and bags of dog-hair!) They make a wonderful addition to a home, but are something of an all-round labour of love…ever more so when deep blue carpets run throughout the house…and boy, do they like to chew…doors, fridges, skirting boards, floor tiles, table legs, chairs, upholstery, clothes, shoes, books, and electrical leads – I’m certain they are related to goats! lol :)
At the time of ownership I was between jobs and had the hours to spend walking him miles and miles in a futile attempt to induce a little fatigue, but all to no avail, he would literally run non-stop 24/7 if given the chance. Anyway, we were also the new owners of a smoky-grey Burmese kitten that we had acquired from the London Docklands and named Alfie after the character portrayed by Michael Caine in the film of the same name. He was adorable, and the two inseparable from the start. What we hadn’t bargained for was the kitten spending time grooming the dog, natural though it may be, but as it turned out, certainly an unanticipated oversight on our part. One evening Alfie came wobbling over like a drunkard to where I was sat on the floor and quite literally collapsed in my lap, severely fatigued, excessively dehydrated, and altogether close to death. Up until that moment he’d not displayed any sign of ill health nor given us cause for concern, we had been so careful in taking care of him. Following a brief moment of sheer panic, we cradled Alfie in a shoebox, grabbed the car-keys and headed immediately to the vets, hoping that the rush-hour traffic would not delay us unnecessarily. Upon arrival Alfie was given priority due to his condition and taken at once for examination and treatment. What seemed like a long time passed before the vet reappeared and announced he was still a little uncertain of the root cause behind Alfie’s collapse but advised possible renal failure due to his presenting symptoms. He suggested persistence with exploratory tests if we were prepared to have him stay overnight. Well of course we had no option other than to accept his request, grateful indeed to have the little fella looked after, and equally as grateful for having had the foresight to acquire pet-insurance when Alfie first came to us (The vet’s bill would run to just short of 3.5k sterling). That was the first night of what turned out to be a long 7 days, during which time Alfie was subjected to a variety of tests and treatments in the hope of avoiding surgery due to his tender young age…treatments that included x-rays, two or three blood transfusions and a whole host of tracing agents, diuretic pills and potions, and round-the-clock attendance by wonderfully committed staff. When each of these seemed to fail to provide satisfactory answers, the vet had no option other than open him up and take a look inside. At the end of a long week, the vet telephoned and asked if we would like to come down and collect Alfie. He said Alfie had responded superbly to his surgery, was a little sore in places but ready to go home. He concluded his call by saying he, the vet, had something interesting to show us. We arrived some 50 minutes later, thrilled to be having our little furball back in the fold. Alfie was perky, smiling as cats do, and altogether back to within a spitting distance of his former self. After completing the formalities and necessary paperwork, the vet presented us with a sealed jar, about the size of a regular jam-jar, within which was stuffed a coiled mass of matted hair some 15 inches in length and a good inch or so wide that he’d removed from Alfie’s stomach earlier in the week. Indeed, the coiled mass of dog hair had been unwittingly ingested as a result of Alfie’s loving attention, and had after a period impacted in his intestines and ultimately caused his renal failure. Suffice to say, we upped our grooming game following Alfie’s return home and remained as vigilant as possible in keeping the pair apart when fun and play became licks and washes. Of course this was not always possible, but Alfie learnt quickly and grew even quicker and thankfully, finally gave up the need to be so closely attentive to the dog. He went on to enjoy a very happy life. Oh, and just for the record, we decided to dispose of the jam-jar and matted hair after numerous explanations and presentations to family and friends…it didn’t age so well once out in the air! Ewww! As for the dog-hair knitted sweaters…we had two made for posterities sake, unaffordable to us, both were gifts from family, and although neither were ever worn, I distinctly remember them being wonderfully soft and comfortingly warm just like the dog who grew the fur. Thanks for listening :) Namaste DN – 11/09/2015 Hey Linda, As always, I thoroughly enjoyed the delightful humour to be found here…your son John seems quite a card, where does he get that from I wonder…and that’s a great look for summer lol :) ‘Smorgasbord – Variety is the Spice of Life’ is bang on the money regarding the making of dog-sweaters, as well as the cost of having them made…on which note, may I leave a short story… I was once the shared owner of a Samoyed dog – not dissimilar in appearance to Buzzy, the same snow white colour, but perhaps a little larger (he was a male), and learnt a thing or to (the hard way!) about the upkeep and daily maintenance of these gentle and endearing long hair breeds (We acquired bags and bags and bags of dog-hair!) They make a wonderful addition to a home, but are something of an all-round labour of love…ever more so when deep blue carpets run throughout the house…and boy, do they like to chew…doors, fridges, skirting boards, floor tiles, table legs, chairs, upholstery, clothes, shoes, books, and electrical leads – I’m certain they are related to goats! lol :) At the time of ownership I was between jobs and had the hours to spend walking him miles and miles in a futile attempt to induce a little fatigue, but all to no avail, he would literally run non-stop 24/7 if given the chance. Anyway, we were also the new owners of a smoky-grey Burmese kitten that we had acquired from the London Docklands and named Alfie after the character portrayed by Michael Caine in the film of the same name. He was adorable, and the two inseparable from the start. What we hadn’t bargained for was the kitten spending time grooming the dog, natural though it may be, but as it turned out, certainly an unanticipated oversight on our part. One evening Alfie came wobbling over like a drunkard to where I was sat on the floor and quite literally collapsed in my lap, severely fatigued, excessively dehydrated, and altogether close to death. Up until that moment he’d not displayed any sign of ill health nor given us cause for concern, we had been so careful in taking care of him. Following a brief moment of sheer panic, we cradled Alfie in a shoebox, grabbed the car-keys and headed immediately to the vets, hoping that the rush-hour traffic would not delay us unnecessarily. Upon arrival Alfie was given priority due to his condition and taken at once for examination and treatment. What seemed like a long time passed before the vet reappeared and announced he was still a little uncertain of the root cause behind Alfie’s collapse but advised possible renal failure due to his presenting symptoms. He suggested persistence with exploratory tests if we were prepared to have him stay overnight. Well of course we had no option other than to accept his request, grateful indeed to have the little fella looked after, and equally as grateful for having had the foresight to acquire pet-insurance when Alfie first came to us (The vet’s bill would run to just short of 3.5k sterling). That was the first night of what turned out to be a long 7 days, during which time Alfie was subjected to a variety of tests and treatments in the hope of avoiding surgery due to his tender young age…treatments that included x-rays, two or three blood transfusions and a whole host of tracing agents, diuretic pills and potions, and round-the-clock attendance by wonderfully committed staff. When each of these seemed to fail to provide satisfactory answers, the vet had no option other than open him up and take a look inside. At the end of a long week, the vet telephoned and asked if we would like to come down and collect Alfie. He said Alfie had responded superbly to his surgery, was a little sore in places but ready to go home. He concluded his call by saying he, the vet, had something interesting to show us. We arrived some 50 minutes later, thrilled to be having our little furball back in the fold. Alfie was perky, smiling as cats do, and altogether back to within a spitting distance of his former self. After completing the formalities and necessary paperwork, the vet presented us with a sealed jar, about the size of a regular jam-jar, within which was stuffed a coiled mass of matted hair some 15 inches in length and a good inch or so wide that he’d removed from Alfie’s stomach earlier in the week. Indeed, the coiled mass of dog hair had been unwittingly ingested as a result of Alfie’s loving attention, and had after a period impacted in his intestines and ultimately caused his renal failure. Suffice to say, we upped our grooming game following Alfie’s return home and remained as vigilant as possible in keeping the pair apart when fun and play became licks and washes. Of course this was not always possible, but Alfie learnt quickly and grew even quicker and thankfully, finally gave up the need to be so closely attentive to the dog. He went on to enjoy a very happy life. Oh, and just for the record, we decided to dispose of the jam-jar and matted hair after numerous explanations and presentations to family and friends…it didn’t age so well once out in the air! Ewww! As for the dog-hair knitted sweaters…we had two made for posterities sake, unaffordable to us, both were gifts from family, and although neither were ever worn, I distinctly remember them being wonderfully soft and comfortingly warm just like the dog who grew the fur. Thanks for listening :) Namaste DN – 11/09/2015 |
Why You Should Leave Your Link in the Comments
Reblogg and follow. Thanks to Danny from Dream Big Dream Often
Dear Auntie Linda, September 11, 2015
Dear Auntie Linda, We’ve known our neighbors for years, often barbecuing together or trading babysitting. Last night after we cooked out together, my husband told me Judy approached him, saying she wanted to have another baby and Jim didn’t. She wondered if he’d want to help her out. I thought he was kidding at first, but he wasn’t. The next morning, Judy came over and apologized, telling the same tale. She didn’t want either of us to say anything to Jim and jeopardize their marriage. Strangely, she asked me to pray with her after confessing her embarrassment. I told her I wasn’t feeling prayerful, and needed some time to digest this. My husband and I are wondering where we go from here. The kids are friends and we don’t want any awkwardness. How do we handle this? Awkward
Dear Awkward, It’s good you and your husband can discuss things. It would be a good idea to get back with Judy and let her know you that you and your husband are distancing yourself from her and don’t want to socialize further. Perhaps if she lets it drop, you can be no more than neighbors. Maybe it will die a natural death. If not, you can be more direct. Auntie Linda
Dear Auntie Linda, I am engaged to a wonderful man. I did not have a religious upbringing, but have been attending services with Mark and am considering joining his faith.. He is about to graduate from college and has decided he wants to go to Seminary to become a minister. This is a far cry from just attending services. I don’t know that I can make the commitment to be a minister’s wife, though I love Mark passionately. We had planned to marry next year, but I am worried about setting a date now. What should we do? Maybe
Dear Maybe, You are right to be concerned. The commitment to be a minister’s wife may or may not be a road you are not willing to follow. The two of you should take your time, pray, attend services and counseling together, and talk to other couples. You surely are not the first couple to deal with this. There is no hurry to marry. Auntie Linda
Email Ask Auntie Linda at lbeth1950@hotmail.com
Brother Gobel and Lost Love
Just days after Daddy’s death, Brother Gobel, a Pentecostal preacher, paid a condolence call to Mother. A Bantam Rooster of a man, he was bow-legged, bald and not much taller than she, a stark contrast to the tall, handsome husband she was still mourning. He drank coffee, prayed with her, as ministers on visits normally do, and took his leave. Thinking no more of it, Mother was shocked to get a letter from him a few days later. Even more startling, was the fact that it included an epic poem of love telling of his devotion and hopes for their future together, followed up with a marriage proposal, and some appropriate Biblical quotations about the role of wives, remarking that he’d always admired what a dutiful wife she had been, waiting on Daddy hand and foot. Wisely, she pitched the letter in the trash. Unwisely, she told me about it. One of my great regrets in life is that she never shared that poem with me. It would have my life, and yours, so much richer.
Men’s Health Week – Stress – Laughter the Best Medicine – Etiquette!
Re logged from Smorgasbord. Get ready to laugh!
Nutsrok 