humor

The Case of the Mysterious Spotted Dog Murder

Our life with Annie, our surly, farting Dalmatian was complicated by her partner in crime, Greg, the ever-present kid from across the street.  I use ever-present in the strictest sense.  Greg’s mom worked nights.  In a casual relationship never addressed by any of us, Greg made a beeline to our house as soon as he got home every day, hit the pantry for a snack, and let Annie out of prison.  Greg was well known for investigating our premises, keeping himself abreast of what all that was going on at our house, while he dawdled about, picking things up, questioning, “What’s this?  When did you get this?”   We’d chat about his day.  Afterwards, he and Annie would go off on a ramble, since we lived in a rural neighborhood with many large wooded areas. They were a common sight, known all over the neighborhood.

At any rate, one afternoon he and Annie stumbled on a construction site, just as a human skull was unearthed.  Naturally, the ensuing hub bub was tremendous. With law enforcement and news crews arriving, Greg and Annie managed to be front and center, part of the big story. Greg was ecstatic, carrying the news all over the neighborhood, taking full credit for the entire situation.  Anxious to milk the situation for all it was worth, Greg made a hasty trip back to our house to retrieve a gag item of my daughter’s, a dummy arm and hand intended to hang from the trunk of a vehicle, giving the impression of a body is in the trunk.

Returning to the wooded area near the site of all the excitement, Greg tossed the “arm” to Annie, initiating her favorite game of “keepaway.”  Annie burst from the woods, arm in her mouth, ripping through the yellow crime scene tape.  Greg was right behind her, yelling his head off. It was like a scene out of a Monty Python movie. Annie, no novice, at being chased by shouting strangers, headed home, dragging the incriminating arm.  Winded, she scratched at the back door, still clinging to her prize.  Shortly, she was followed by Greg and a bevy of law enforcement officers, asking to see the arm.  She’d hidden in the bedroom, reluctant to part with such a desirable prize, but I brought it out for their examination.  I was so glad not to be Greg’s parent that day.

Oh, the skull turned out to be that of a Native American who’d probably died more than one hundred years before.

Not Quite the Proverbial Turd in the Punchbowl

Pooping with Brian

Jokes

Daily Joke: A man and an ostrich walked into a restaurant

Rachael Rosel

Oct 26, 2020

“I’ll have the same,” says the ostrich. Source: Getty.

A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him. As he sits, the waitress comes over and asks for their orders.

The man says: “I’ll have a hamburger, fries and a coke,” and turns to the ostrich, “What’s yours?”

“I’ll have the same,” says the ostrich.

A short time later the waitress returns with the order. “That will be $6.40 please,” and the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.

The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and the man says: “I’ll have a hamburger, fries and a coke.”

And the ostrich says: “I’ll have the same.”

Once again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change. This becomes a routine until late one evening, the two enter again.

“The usual?” asks the waitress. “No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato and salad,” says the man.

“Same for me,” says the ostrich.

A short time later the waitress comes with the order and says, “That will be $12.62.”

Once again the man pulls exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table. The waitress can’t hold back her curiosity any longer: “Excuse me, sir. How do you manage to always come up with the exact change out of your pocket every time?”

“Well,” says the man, “several years ago I was cleaning the attic and I found an old lamp. When I rubbed it a genie appeared and offered me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there.”

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“That’s brilliant!”says the waitress. “Most people would wish for a million dollars or something, but you’ll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!”

“That’s right. Whether it’s a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there,” says the man.

The waitress asks: “One other thing, sir, what’s with the ostrich?”

The man sighs, pauses, and answers: “My second wish was for a tall chick with long legs who agrees with everything I say.”

A young woman went to the doctor

A young woman said to her doctor: “You have to help me, I hurt all over.”

“What do you mean?” said the doctor.

The woman touched her right knee with her index finger and yelled: “Ow, that hurts!”

Then she touched her left cheek and again yelled: “Ouch! That hurts, too.” Then she touched her right earlobe. “Ow, even that hurts!”

The doctor took a second to examine the woman before standing back and making his decision.

“Ah yes, I know what it is,” he said. “You have a sprained finger.”

Two elderly women were driving in their car

Two elderly women were out driving in a large car. Both could barely see over the dashboard. As they were cruising along they came to an intersection. The stoplight was red but they just went on through. The woman in the passenger seat thought to herself: “I must be losing it, I could have sworn we just went through a red light.”

After a few more minutes they came to another intersection and the light was red again and again they went right though. This time the woman in the passenger seat was almost sure that the light had been red but was really concerned that she was losing it. She was getting nervous and decided to pay very close attention to the road and the next intersection to see what was going on.

At the next intersection, sure enough, the light was definitely red and they went right through and she turned to the other woman and said: “Mildred! Did you know we just ran through three red lights in a row! You could have killed us!”

Mildred turned to her and said: “Oh, am I driving?”

Slipped Away!

This story seems to be too complicated to be true, but it is. It looked like my mother had to tried to set my dad up but she was never organized enough for this. Daddy had worked graveyard shift, so was settling in for his day sleep. The last thing Daddy told her before lying down was that he was expecting a “man to come see him about a dog.” Knowing Mother had business to attend to that day, he was expecting the man to honk his horn to wake him.
Expecting Daddy to sleep a while, Mother took the opportunity to finish waxing the hall before leaving. Sure it would be dry before Daddy had to get up.

Her waxing done, Mother headed out the door. When she got to the end of the two-hundred-yard long driveway, Mother’s path was blocked by a complacent cow. Frustrated, Mother edged closer to cud-chewing old Bessie, who regarded Mother sagely. Bessie was unconcerned. Not to be bested by a cow, Mother laid down on the horn till Bessie got out of the way.

Meanwhile, back at the house Daddy lay lightly snoozing, mindful that he was listening for the horn-blowing signal of his friend. Hearing Mother’s distant horn blast, he jumped out of bed, struggled into his pants and launched down the recently waxed hall. It was slick as a gut. Head over heels, he slid the length of that hall on his butt, only to get to the window just in time to see Mother’s car disappearing in the distance. Muttering angrily, he headed back to bed.

Later that day, Mother arrived home just before Daddy’s visitor. Seating the man, she put the coffee on before going to rouse Daddy. Headed down the hall to wake him, she was surprised to see the wide unwaxed stretch right down the middle of the hall. The timing probably saved her life. When Daddy launched into the story of of the trap Mother had set and his perilous slide down the hall, his buddy laughed so hard at him, they all had a big laugh.

That’s probably the only thing that saved Mother’s life.

Homeowner Jokes

The dream of the older generation was to pay off a mortgage. The dream of today’s young families is to get one.

If you think no one cares you’re alive, miss a couple of house payments.

My buyers went through debt consolidation. Now they have only one bill they won’t pay.

If you want to know exactly where the property line is, just watch the neighbor cut the grass.

This country is great. It’s the only place where you can borrow money for a down payment, get a 1st and 2nd mortgage and call yourself a homeowner.

The trouble with owning a home is that no matter where you sit, you’re looking at something you should be doing.

My buyer told me that he lived in the same house for 10 years. When I checked, I found out he’d still be there today if the Governor hadn’t pardoned him.

The sellers told me their house was near the water. It was in the basement.

How much are they asking for your rent now? Oh, about twice a day.

I have a temporary mortgage. What do you mean temporary? Until they foreclose.

Realtor sign–We have “lots” to be thankful for.

Realtor: first you folks tell me what you can afford, then we’ll have a good laugh and go on from there.

The dream of the older generation was to pay off a mortgage. The dream of today’s young families is to get one.

There is no longer a need for the neutron bomb. We already have something that destroys people and leaves buildings intact. It’s called a mortgage.

If you think no one cares you’re alive, miss a couple of house payments.

My buyers went through debt consolidation. Now they have only one bill they won’t pay.

I listed a maintenance free house. In the last 25 years there hasn’t been any maintenance.

Did you hear about Robin Hood’s house? It has a little John.

My agent was always smiling. I didn’t think anybody could have that many teeth without being a barracuda.

If you want to know exactly where the property line is, just watch the neighbor cut the grass.

Houses today don’t have enough closet space. Sure they do. They’re just called guest bedrooms.

Trivia: The floors of buildings are called stories because early European builders used to paint picture stories on
the sides of their houses. Each floor had a different story.

A lot of homes have been spoiled by inferior desecrators.–Frank Lloyd Wright

I bought a two story house. One story before I bought, and another after.

The house is only 5 minutes from shopping . . .if you’ve got an airplane.

This country is great. It’s the only place where you can borrow money for a downpayment, get a 1st and 2nd
mortgage and call yourself a homeowner.

Home is where the mortgage is.

The best part of a real estate bargain is the neighbor.

The house was more covered with mortgages than with paint.

Home: A place when you go there they have to take you in.

Charity: A thing that begins at home and usually stays there.

A man’s home is his castle. That’s how it seems when he pays taxes on it.

Housebroke–What you are after buying a house.

This house has every new convenience except low payments.

The trouble with owning a home is that no matter where you sit, you’re looking at something you should be doing.

They have an all electric home. Everything in it is charged.

My buyers want a new home on the outskirts—of their income, that is.

A Happy Home is a place where each spouse entertains the possibility that the other may be right though neither
believes it.

By the time you pay for a home in the suburbs, it isn’t.

A Modern home is a place where a switch controls everything but the kids, and it has gadgets to do everything
except make the payments.

The house has a wall to wall carpet and back to wall payment.

A typical home has a TV set that is adjusted better than the kids.

House problem: The oven is self-cleaning, but the kids aren’t.

Our new house has one down payment and 240 darn payments.

Homesickness What you feel every month when the mortgage is due.

Overcoming Educational Insecurities: My Journey from Rural High School to College

Having attended a tiny rural high school, fearing I could never compete with those from large urban high schools, I was sensitive about my educational shortcomings. Expecting to be labeled a bumpkin and hustled back to the farm “with my own kind,” in my mind, I had gotten to college with little to recommend me but a good vocabulary, a love of literature, and motivation.  Not only this, my knowledge of profanity and vile language was unimaginative, another embarrassment when I met sophisticates who drank beer, smoked, ordered pizza, and cursed with abandon.  Drinking and smoking had never appealed to me.  I liked pizza but had absolutely no pocket money, so easily avoided that temptation.  Had I been inspired to curse a blue streak, it would have been an extremely short and awkward one, with my lack of knowledge and complete inexperience with profanity.

Back in the good days, before cell phones and caller identification put an end to it, the fascinating practice of obscene phone calls was available to perverts, whereby a caller dialed his “victim,” likely at random, and launched into a raunchy, heavy-breathing monologue, usually complete with a description of how he might be entertaining himself at the moment. The object, of course, was for the answering party to respond in some appropriately shocked manner, gratifying and rewarding the caller.

Well, one night about midnight, I got my call. He wasn’t much of conversationalist and got right down to business.  Unfortunately for my disappointed caller, his terminology was beyond me.

“Huh?” I asked.

Clearly frustrated, he repeated his message. It didn’t help a bit.

“Huh?” By now I realized I had been tested and come up short, just as I had feared from the day I first stepped foot on campus.  I was devastated.

I think my caller also knew the bitter taste of failure. “You don’t even know what that means do you?”

“No.” Without thinking, I acknowledged the humiliating truth.

“Oh, Hell!” He slammed the phone down in my ear.  We had both been tested and found lacking.

A Hog a Day Part 17

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Original art by Kathleen Swain

Unless you’ve been cursed with a prissy, goody-two-shoes older sister, you couldn’t possibly appreciate this, so just go on with whatever you were doing. If you want to commiserate, jump right in. Phyllis was three years older than I. This put her just far enough ahead of me that all the teachers and Sunday School teachers were still raving about her performance. “Phyllis never misspelled a word on a test the whole year. Phyllis is the best student I had in all my twenty years of teaching. Phyllis is the neatest kid in class. Phyllis always reads her Sunday School Lesson and knows her memory verses.” It was all true. She worked on her homework from the time she got off the bus every day till Mother made her go to bed every night, copying it over rather than have an erasure.

I did my homework on the bus, on the way to school, if I could borrow some paper. The second day of first grade Miss Angie called me a blabbermouth and a scatterbrain. I was delighted till she sent a note home. My parents pointed out neither was a good thing. The only notes Phyllis ever got asked if she could be the lead in the school play, tutor slow kids, or be considered for sainthood. Mother had to chase the schoolbus to brush my hair. If we had pancakes for breakfast, my papers stuck to me all morning and dirt clung to the syrupy patches after recess. I never got the connection between being sticky and not washing up after breakfast.

It was bad enough that Mother tried to civilize me. After I started school, Phyllis was embarrassed about being related to “Messy Mayhem.” She started in telling Mother I needed to pull my socks up, brush my hair, not wipe my snotty nose on my sleeve, and most of all, not tell anyone I was related to her. She was a hotline home for anything that the teachers forgot to send a note about. It didn’t help our friendship.

Phyllis was always first in line to get in the door at church. I am surprised she didn’t have her own key. Sitting quietly and thoughtfully through sermons, she’d occasionally nod and mark passages in her Bible. The minister was sure she was headed for “Special Sevice.” Meanwhile, I sat next to Mother, barely aware of the minister’s drone, desperately trying to find interest, somewhere, anywhere. I liked the singing but it didn’t last long. The words didn’t make sense, but it sure beat the sermon. Once the sermon started, I’d start at the front and enumerate things: roses on hats, striped ties, bald men, sleepers, crying babies, kids who got to prowl in their mother’s purses, or the number of times the preacher said “Damn, Breast or Hell!”. Once in a while something interesting would happen, like pants or skirt stuck in a butt-crack, or a kid would get taken out for a spanking, but all this made for a mighty lean diet.

One glorious Sunday, the sun shone. As we filed out, I looked longingly at the lucky kids running wild in the parking lot. We had to stand decorously beside Mother and Daddy as he waxed eloquent, rubbing elbows with the deacons, whose august company he longed to join. As he discussed the merits of the sermon with Brother Cornell Poleman, a deacon with an unfortunate sinus infection, Brother Poleman pulled a big white hankie from his coat pocket and blew a disgusting snort in its general direction. Fortunately for Sister Poleman, she wouldn’t be dealing with that nasty hanky in Monday’s laundry. A giant yellow, green gelatinous gob of snot went airborn, landing right on Phyllis’s saintly, snowy, Southern Baptist forearm, where it quivered just a bit, before settling into its happy home. Her expression was priceless. Mr. Poleman grabbed her arm, rubbing the snot all over her forearm before she could extricate herself from his foul grip. She flew to the church bathroom to wash before joining the family waiting in the car. That snot trick had put a hasty end to all visiting. When she got home, she locked herself in the bathroom to scrub her arm with Comet. I enjoyed church that day.

My brother Billy certainly didn’t have to deal with comparisons to a saint when he followed three years behind me.

10 Ways to……..

I am a sucker for those stories that start out 10 ways to do something amazing, but never find anything that works for me. I am frugal by nature, very much aware of how hard I worked for every dollar.

  1. Start making coffee at home to save on Starbucks. I live miles from nearest coffee shop. Even if there was one at the end of my driveway, there’s no way I’m going to blow $2.75 to 3.50 on a cup of regular coffee when I can make a whole pot for less. I’ve probably already saved over a million dollars.
  2. Pay off your high interest credit cards. Boy, I would have never thought to do that. I thought it would be best to get the highest rate cards I could and max them all out. Maybe I could share them out among my friends and neighbors.
  3. Cut back on eating out and carry out food, another bit of useless advice. Why would anyone cook better, more nutritious at home when you could bankrupt yourself eating out, especially on credit cards?
  4. Avoid designer clothes, accessories, and handbags. I figured this one on my own. I’ve never been tempted to blow a month’s rent on a purse or bracelet. I don’t even know what statement jewelry is.
  5. I can’t get my list up to ten. I need to stop and take all this money I’ve saved to the bank, anyway.

A Hog a Day Part 15

 

Against his better judgment, when Billy was about eleven or twelve, Daddy relented and gave him permission to sit with his friend Kenny in church one Sunday. He’d always had an iron-clad rule that we had to sit together as a family way up in front on the third pew, but was somehow, Billy convinced him he could handle the challenge that day. 

Neither had reckoned with the devil super ball hiding in Billy’s pocket as he ecstatically took a seat next to his friend in the back row. All was well till that devil ball started sending Billy psychic impulses a few minutes into the sermon.  Unable to resist its lure, Billy took it The ball out, inspiring awe in Kenny.  They passed it silently between them a few times keeping their eyes straight ahead.  No one was the wiser.  Temptation got the better of Billy and he bounced the ball between his feet, catching it on the return.  There was a small plunk, but no great disturbance.  Emboldened by success, he had to push it. The slight plunk on the hardwood was noticeable, but since the boys kept their composure and stared straight ahead, the sermon continued.  It was going so well, Billy bounced it another time or two.  Of course, luck finally ran out and the hard rubber ball bounced and rolled down the slightly inclined pine floor, bumping a few supports and bouncing joyously along the way.  Daddy knew immediately who the culprit was, turned, and shot Billy the “look of death.”  Kenny, who enjoyed much more casual parenting struggled to stifle his hysteria.

That ball rolled and bounced, bounced and rolled.  The sound seemed deafening though Brother Robert, the preacher, never faltered in his sermon.  As the ball neared the dais, he stepped down, and scooped up the ball mid-bounce.  I had to admire his dexterity. I could see he had some natural athletic ability.  Without hesitation, he continued the sermon, walking in front of the dais and bouncing the ball.  Brother Robert held my attention as never before. Never missing a catch, he pocketed the little ball and went straight to altar call.  I truly prayed for Billy’s life.  I couldn’t imagine what his fate might be.  We finished church as always, filing out to greet the preacher at the door.

Surprisingly, Daddy didn’t kill Billy as expected.  Maybe it tickled his funny bone, though he never let on.  The next Sunday, Billy was in his usual seat on the third row, right next to Daddy.  He never got his superball back.

 

Stupid Alcohol One-Liners Found on the Internet

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1. Alcohol should be served in Capri Sun pouches. When you can’t get the straw in the hole you’ve had enough.
2. Alcohol doesn’t turn people into somebody they’re not. It just makes them forget to hide that part of themselves.
3. Life and beer are very similar …..chill for best results.
4. I’m not an alcoholic. Alcoholics need a drink, but I already have one.
5. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
6. If you drink too much alcohol you are an alcoholic. If you drink too much Fanta, does that make you Fantastic?
7. I don’t recycle because it makes me look like a huge alcoholic to my garbage man.
8. I’m not an alcoholic alcoholics go to meetings, I’m a drunk, we go to parties.
9. Alcohol doesn’t make you fat… it makes you Lean…… on tables, chairs & random people.
10. My body is not a temple…..it’s a distillery with legs.
11. No! for the last time stop asking if i am drunk. I am not drunk! Who would name their kid drunk?
12. You say alcoholic, I’ll say alcohol enthusiast.
13. Take me drunk I’m home.
14. Anyone who says that alcohol is a depressant isn’t drinking enough of it.
15. When life hands you lemons, find someone with tequila and salt!
16. Dont drink and drive, it will spill everywhere
17. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
18. I’ve been told I’ve got A.D.H.D (Alcohol Drinking and Hangover Disorder)
19. It’s true alcohol kills people, but how many are born because of it?
20. Alcohol is never the answer… But it does make you forget the question.
21 c A man’s got to believe in something. I believe I’ll have another drink.
22. My doctor told me to watch my drinking, so now I drink in front of a mirror.
23. “Relationship” has 12 letters but then again so does “Time For Shots”
24. Confucious says, “Man who drink beer all day, have Wet Dreams all night”.