humor

Uncle Albutt Part 5

Quite often, our family and friends would gather for a late evening meal.  While the kids ran wild in the dusk and on into the darkness, the women prepared a filling meal of beef stew or chili and cornbread.  It would be near bedtime by the time they called us in, hysterical  with chasing each other in and out of the darkness.  Of course we’d been warned against running in the dark, but staying in range of the lights was for sissies.  I’d be in a delicious frenzy of terror till I stepped back into the light, where all horrors vanished.   They would be so many kids we’d be settled on the floor with our supper in a pie or cake pan.  This was before budgets stretched to include paper plates.  It was an honor to sit on the floor with the big kids.  Babies and toddlers sat at the tables where their mamas could keep a grip on them.  Two or three dinners were always dumped on the floor and there was squalling a’plenty as mamas cleaned up the mess and resettled the messy kids.  The kids finished in short order and tore back outdoors while the adults took their turn at the

After the meal, it wasn’t unusual for the men to load up their guns, flashlights, thermoses of coffee, and the dogs for a night of hunting, leaving the women and children to visit.  Mamas gave their kids a cursory wipedown with a washcloth before bed, since it wouldn’t have been possible to bathe that many children and settled them on pallets on the floor, sometimes as many as six to the bed.  Mamas rocked the knee babies and lap babies to sleep before putting them on a bed flanked by pillows once the settling down started, the women started their stories.  I loved these nights, especially if Mawmaw was there.  She believed in ghosts and could make our blood run cold.  Mother worried about nightmares, but lacked the courage to shush her mother-in-law, for which I was grateful.  I NEEDED those stories. Mawmaw thrilled us with tales of babies buried alive, girls who died of broken hearts when their dead sweethearts appeared to them, and big black ghost dog, and ball lightning rolling through the house. The kids didn’t dare move off the pallet, they were so terrified. Fatigued by their play, finally they drifted off to sleep, one by one.

As the women talked, they thought they heard an intruder trying to get in the front door. Someone else scurried to check the back door, unsure if it was locked.  .  Had there been an intruder, he’d have had a horrible shock breaking in on half a dozen  terrified women and a gaggle of children.  Meanwhile Mother hurried to the door.  Thinking she’d scare him away with a bluff, she called out.  “I’ve got a gun.  I’m gonna shoot through the door!”

Aunt Jewel stood right behind her.  Obviously terrified, she shouted out.  “Well, don’t just stand there!  Go git your gun.  You ain’t got no gun!”  Fortunately, there was no intruder, or he thought he’d better not break in, since nothing happened.

 

Uncle Albutt Part 4

Uncle Albert had an interesting vocabulary.   Even when he didn’t get words right, he forged bravely ahead.  When his energy was low, he didn’t have much image.  When the doctor diagnosed him with emphysema, he referred to his ‘zema. Air conditioners were air positioners. He called my sister Phyllis, Phillips.  I liked that one.  I was Linder.  I didn’t like that quite so much. My mother Kathleen was Kathaleen.  He called Daddy “Willie”, his real name instead of Bill, the name Daddy gave himself once he left home.  

Daddy cringed every time he was called Willie. The only other person who got away with it was his mother.  I wouldn’t have wanted to be Willie, either.  For some reason, Daddy’s brother Parnell named his daughter Willie Carol.  She was a whiny, sullen kid, maybe because of that name. It makes perfect sense to me.

On occasion, we saw some of Aunt Jewel’s relatives.  Her sister, Lucille, who incidentally had married one of Daddy’s cousins, had the hairiest legs I’ve ever seen, man or woman. The wearing of seamed stockings only made it more obvious.  A good proportion of the wiry hairs worked their way through the stockings, trying to escape, while the rest were imprisoned flat against her legs.  I don’t know which fascinated me more, the swirling mass of flattened ones, or the wild escapees.  I never got to look enough, and certainly wasn’t allowed to comment. Mother warned us off when she knew we’d see Lucille.  Daddy swore her legs had gotten hairier because she shaved them!  That just sounded nuts.  How would hair roots know a razor threatened?  He was death on leg-shaving, ascribing to the old wive’s tale that shaving made hair grow back thicker.  I don’t know what planet he was from that made his daughter’s legs, shaved or unshaven, his business, but Daddy thought he was God and his wishes,  commandments.  More likely, he may have feared he’d be stuck with his girls forever should we sprout hair like that. 

Of course, Mother never volunteered the information that she shaved her legs.  I guess she didn’t want Daddy to know what was in his future.  Naturally, I shaved my legs as soon as I could get hold of a razor.  I can’t tell you how happy I was to get away from home.

Daddy’s methods did ensure he never had to deal with adult children boomeranginghome.  Times just didn’t get that hard.

Knitting Jokes

A piece of yarn enters a bar all alone and tries to order a drink. The bartender snarls,
“We don’t serve your kind here!”.
The yarn is forced to leave.
While sitting outside the bar and feeling all alone, the yarn suddenly comes up with a brilliant idea. Working quickly, he ties himself into a knot and unravels the ends. Taking a deep breath, the yarn boldly walks back into the bar and orders a beer instead.
“Hey!” says the bartender. “Ain’t you that piece of yarn I just threw outta here?”
“Nope,” replies the yarn, “I’m a frayed knot.”

A policeman spots a woman driving and knitting at the same time.
Driving up beside her, he shouts out the window……
“Pullover”!!
“No,” she shouts back, “a pair of socks!”

The doctor told me to get more fiber, so I went to the local yarn store after work.

An old lady walked into a butcher’s shop and shouted at the butcher.
“That leg of lamb you sold me last week, shrunk by six inches when I cooked it”
“That’s funny” said the butcher “My missis knitted me a jumper, and when she washed it, it shrunk by six inches”
“Must have been from the same sheep”

Local police hunting the ‘knitting-needle nutter’ who has stabbed six people in the arse in the last 48 hours believe the attacker could be following some kind of pattern.

A grandmother sat on her porch knitting three socks when someone walked by and asked, “Why are you knitting three socks?”
The grandmother replied: “Because my grandson said he’s grown a foot since joining the Army.”

A woman walks into a yarn store and asks for a length of wool yarn. The shopkeeper asks,”How long do you need it?” The lady, new to the hobby of crochet, thought it over, then responded, “I guess I’ll need it for a pretty long time. I’m going to make a sweater!”

How can you tell when you’ve had too much coffee?
When you’ve just finished knitting your third sweater in a week, and you don’t even know *how* to knit!

A mother took her little boy to church.
While in church the little boy said, “Mommy, I have to pee.”
The mother said to the little boy, “It’s not appropriate to say the word ‘pee’ in church. So, from now on whenever you have to ‘pee’ just tell me that you have to ‘whisper’.”
The following Sunday, the little boy went to church with his father and during the service said to his father, “Daddy, I have to whisper.“
The father looked at him and said, “Okay, just whisper in my ear.”

Uncle Albutt Part 3

Uncle Albert somehow came up on a ninety-nine year lease on several acres on Dorcheat Bayou in Louisiana.  Ready to retire from farming, he decided a fish camp would provide a modest retirement income.  My father bought his farm and stock, but that’s a story for another day.  Obviously, he was a multi-talented man, able to turn his hand to any task.  His farm boasted two cabins.  He moved into the second cabin, disassembled the log house he was living in loaded it piece by piece on his old truck, and moved  it to his lease, where he went to work reassembling it just as it had originally been, except he added an additional bedroom, occasionally recruiting help from relatives with bigger jobs.  Once the reassembled house was in the dry, he took apart the second cabin, using the timber to cover over the logs and seal the house tighter.  One day, Daddy decided we’d go by and check on Uncle Albert’s progress. My older sister climbed on the unsecured log walls, tumbling them to the ground.  I was so glad she got to them before I did.  Neither Daddy nor Uncle Albert was pleased.  Daddy spent the rest of that evening and Saturday helping Uncle Albert get it back together.  None of us kids were invited along, for some reason.  When Uncle Albert was satisfied with his house, he used the rest of the salvaged lumber for fishing boats, a pier, fences, a bait shop, and outbuildings.  Soon he had a pretty good business going.  By the next spring, he had a large garden underway.

Prior to construction of his house, Uncle Albert took care of necessities,; first, a toilet before summoning all his nephews for the digging of a well, uphill from the toilet, of course.  They came, bringing all their wives and children, a festive day of barbecuing, fishing, children running wild, while the men took turns shoveling the hard red clay from the well site..  Only one man could be in the hole at a time.  The others stayed above ground, pulling the heavy dirt from the hole.  They all took their turns.  By the end of the first day, thanks to the high water table, water was beginning to seep in at a depth of twenty feet.  They dug a few feet more, set the curb so the well wouldn’t silt in, and came back the next day to build a protective well-housing.  Uncle Albert was able to draw a bit of water by the evening of the second day.

Along with all my cousins, I was desperate to be lowered by pulley and bucket as the fortunate diggers were, into the depths of that well.  Sadly, all the mothers and aunts were just as anxious to keep wayward kids out of the well, warning us away every time we came near.  However, were able to indulge in one other life-threatening activity as they focused on that well.  A gravel road ran down the steep hill along one side of Uncle Albert’s property where it intersected with another dirt road fronting his house alongside the steep-banked bayou. The occasional oil-truck, fisherman, or hunter who travelled that way would have had no expectation of kids running wild, since until only recently, it was nothing but woods.    Someone of my cousins had thoughtfully brought along their red wagon to Uncle Albert’s that day.  Naturally, we pulled that wagon to the top of the red-dirt hill, piled in as many cousins as would fit, and prepared for a thrilling coast down the steep graveled road.  There were no engineers among us.  Confident as only a cluster of kids can be, we set off for a bone-rattling ride.  That wagon clattered and bounced, held down only by the weight of kids.  A couple of the smaller ones were pitched out, left squalling in our dusty tracks.  The clattering, crying, and dust cloud caught the attention of the well-diggers and mothers who were laying out the picnic lunch, secure in the knowledge we weren’t falling in the well.  As they looked on at the screaming wagonload of kids hurtling down the hill, an oil truck approached the crossing at the bottom.  It slammed on its brakes, swerving enough to allow us to pass, though our unlikely survival was concealed by the massive dust cloud.  The wagon flew on toward the high bank of the bayou, where we were saved by a brush thicket just short of the water.

In the manner of parents at that time, once the loving parents found their children weren’t dead, they gratefully expressed their joy with beatings for all. I had one fine ride down that hill, but I never got another crack at it.

Depriving Bonnie

I love, love, love my sisters-in-law, however, to protect the guilty, in this story, they will remain nameless. I also love to can all kinds of food. Taking advantage of chicken I’d caught on sale, I canned up several quarts of chicken and dumplings, saving back plenty for dinner when Sybil((alias) and her husband were to join us.

At dinner, Sybil told us of her friend Bonnie’s recent accident and broken leg. Concerned for Bonnie, I gave Sybil two quarts of my chicken and dumplings for the unfortunate Bonnie after reminding Sybil to extract a promise to tell Bonnie I had to have my jars back, My generosity does not extend to jars. Like all canners, I am territorial about my precious jars.

Sybil took my jars. A few evenings later, Sybil and her partner in crime found themselves at dinner time with no particular plan. My chicken and dumplings sat innocently on the counter, awaiting their trip to poor, hungry Bonnie. Reasoning Bonnie didn’t need two quarts, hunger overtook them, They put Bonnie’s dinner on to heat for their dinner. Before the dumplings came to a simmer, another sister-in-law showed up hungry, with her starving son in tow. Sybil made them her willing accomplices without a thought for Bonnie.

Needless to say, Bonnie’s dumplings were soon history. The good news is, I did get my jars back.

So, if your name is Bonnie, you broke your leg, and nobody brought you chicken and dumplings, it’s not my fault.

Cousin Raymond

Cousin Raymond was the family icon of greed. I grew up with Bud, sharing many meals at his house. His mother was polite enough not to slander me so freely, so I never tired of hearing of Cousin Raymond’s gluttony. She resurrected him often to shame her children in the throes of greed. They were raised just like us. Desserts were usually reserved for Sundays and holidays. Also, after school and in between meal snacks were probably dried-out breakfast biscuits, flapjacks, or a piece desiccated cornbread languishing on the stovetop. Sometimes, a day or two after payday, peanut butter and saltines miraculously survived.

I don’t imply we were too picky to gobble anything that didn’t bite us first. We just didn’t look forward to breakfast rejects. Should an errant plate of cookies or bag of chips show up, we fell on it like ravenous beasts, ate all we could hold, and tried to get more when we felt a little better.

When at his family was at their greediest and most in need of shaming, they’d be accused of being just like Cousin Raymond. It seems when Cousin Raymond’s family had company for dinner, big old, dumb Cousin commenced bawling like a bull calf. “ They’re gittin’ it all, Mama! They’re gonna eat it all. Don’t let’em eat it all!”

Cousin Raymond’s mama indulgently heaped his plate with goodies before anyone else had a chance to even line up instead of whooping his behind like any right-thinking person expected! That Cousin Raymond had it figured out!

Cute video

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/o6fzsF9woehtBsfb/?mibextid=UalRPS

Follow link for darling donkey, Steve. I believe he’s innocent.

Fishing Jokes

Marriage

Bob was a very keen angler, but he eventually found time to meet a lovely girl and they were married. After the honeymoon, Bob was in his garage sorting out reels when his new wife came in to watch him.

After a long period of silence she finally said: “Darling, I’ve just been thinking; now that we are married, maybe you don’t need to spend so much of your time out here in your garage and you could think about selling some of your fishing stuff … like do you need all those rods, lures, old reel parts and smelly nets. You could sell that tatty boat and with the money we could have a new bathroom.”

A horrified look crept over Bob’s face and silently stared at her. She said, “Darling, what’s wrong?”

He replied, “Nothing … but for a minute there, you were starting to sound like my ex-wife.”

“Ex-wife!?” she screamed, “YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU WERE MARRIED BEFORE!”

Bob replied, “I wasn’t…”

Two fishing mates

Bill and Pete are fishing together. Pete is unusually quiet and lost in thought.

“What’s up Pete” asks Bill.

“The wife and I had a row about how much time I spent fishing. She hasn’t spoken to me for days since. I’m thinking of getting a divorce.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” replied Bill. “Women like that are hard to find.”

Heavenly Fishing

2 Anglers joke fishing

Two buddies were fishing together.

“Do you think you can go fishing in Heaven?” asked Bill.

“I don’t know” said Joe, “but here’s an idea – the first of us that gets there should let the other one know.”

A few months passed and Bill dropped dead with a sudden heart attack. Joe carried on going fishing on his own and one day he heard a voice,

“Helloooooo Joe.”

“Who’s that?”

“It’s Bill. You can’t see me, but I can see you.”

“Bill, tell me” said Joe, “can you go fishing in heaven?”

“Well I’ve got some good news and some bad news. The good news is that we can fish every day if we like. The bad news is that you are fishing in our competition tomorrow.”

 Who can relate to this?

Hooks

One Liners from the Edinburgh Fringe

“Our mate Dave was drowned. For the funeral we have a wreath made in the shape of a lifebelt. It’s what he would have wanted.”

“Have you heard about the French existentialist seagull? It flies around and says (squeaky voice) “pourquoi?”

 Bad Weather Fishing

Very early one Saturday morning a man gets up early, dresses quietly so as not to wake his wife, gets his lunch made, puts on his long johns and goes to the garage to hook up his boat to the 4×4. Coming out of his garage he finds the rain is pouring down: it is like a torrential downpour. There is snow and sleet mixed in with the rain. The wind is blowing at over 50mph.

He comes back into the house and turns the TV to the weather channel. He finds it is going to be very bad weather all day long, so he puts his 4×4 back in the garage, quietly undresses and slips back into bed.

There he cuddles up to his wife’s back, now with a different anticipation and whispers, “The weather out there is terrible”. To which she sleepily replies, “Yeah, can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in it?”

The Fishing Priest

Father Michael was an avid fisherman, and whenever he was not fulfilling his priestly duties he would be out on the lough. One summer (2008) there had been weeks of stormy weather and he hadn’t been able to go fishing at all. He was desperate. One morning, the day dawned calm and mild: he could go. But – it was Sunday! He was supposed to be taking Mass in the church. “I know”, he thought. “I’ll pretend I have the ‘flu and Father O’Leary can take Mass for me. I’ll drive 50 miles to a river where I am not known, and have my day’s fishing.”

So that is what he did. However, he could not hide from God. One of the angels spotted him, and immediately snitched on him to God. God peered through the clouds and frowned.

“Are you going to punish him?” asked the angel. God nodded. The angel watched, expecting Father Michael to step in a wasp’s nest or fall in the river. Suddenly, Father Michael struck into a massive fish, and after a lengthy struggle the fish was on the bank. It was a huge salmon, almost certainly a record.

“But…I thought you were going to punish him?” asked the angel.

“I did,” said God. “Now who can he tell?”

Obituary

Doreen’s husband Matt died suddenly one day. Doreen was taking care of the funeral arrangements with the undertaker when she was asked how she wanted Matt’s obituary to read.

Doreen asked the undertaker, “How much does an obituary cost?”
The undertaker replied, “One dollar per word.”
Doreen then said, “I want the obituary to read – MATT IS DEAD.”
The undertaker was an old fishing buddy of Matt’s and he was a little disturbed by such a curt obituary, so he offered, “I’ll make you a special deal since I knew Matt so well. I’ll pay for half of the obituary out of my own pocket.”
Doreen’s face lit up and she replied, “Great. I want it to read – MATT IS DEAD, BOAT FOR SALE.”

Joke of the Day

image

Blonde jokes – Memories
From the memories of a blonde: The first minutes of pregnancy were just wonderful…

Kitchen light
A blonde tells to another blonde:
– Do you know where the light from the kitchen goes when you turn it off?
– No
The blonde takes another blonde to the fridge and says: HERE.

Stuck in elevator
Once two blondes and a brunette got stuck in the elevator.
One blonde starts to shout:
– Help!!!
The other one:
– Help!!!
A brunette brings in an advice:
– Girls, shout together, it will be louder.
The blondes shout:
– Together!!! Together!!!…

Leaves
A blonde was raking the leaves and fell off the tree.

Waiting
Question: Do you know what a blonde is waiting for at the socket?
Answer: for an e-mail.

Two men at a bar had been enjoying a few drinks for the past couple of hours and were pretty drunk when one of them notices a beautiful woman sitting in the corner. One says to the other, “Jeez, I’d really like to dance with that girl.”

The other man replies, “Well go ahead and ask her, don’t be a chicken.”

So the man approaches the lovely woman and says, “Excuse me. Would you be so kind as to dance with me?”

Seeing the man is totally drunk the woman says, “I’m sorry. Right now I’m concentrating on matrimony and I’d rather sit than dance.”

So the man humbly returns to his friend.

“So what did she say?” asks the friend.

The drunk responded, “She said she’s constipated on macaroni and would rather $h– in her pants.”

Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served. When little Johnny received his plate, he started eating straight away.

“Jonny, wait until we’ve said our prayer,” his mother reminded him.

“I don’t have to.” – the little boy replied.

“Of course you do.” – his mother insisted. “We say a prayer before eating at our house.”

“That’s at our house,” Johnny explained, “but this is Grandma’s house and she knows how to cook.”

My wife’s jealousy is getting ridiculous. The other day she looked at my calendar and wanted to know who May was.

An enormously wealthy 65-year-old man falls in love with a young woman in her twenties and is contemplating a proposal.

“Do you think she’d marry me if I tell her I’m 45?” – he asked a friend.

“Your chances are better,” said the friend, “if you tell her you’re 90.”

A man inserted an ad in the classifieds: “Wife wanted”. Next day he received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: “You can have mine.”