humor

Joys of Bubble Wrap

My big dog, fell in love with bubble wrap recently. It never occurred to me a dog would know what to do with it, but fortunately my seven-year-old granddaughter showed him just

how it worked. I’d saved the bubble wrap for her visit. Croc made every step she made. Once she attacked the bubble wrap, he realized it was just what he’d been waiting for all his life. He enthusiastically wrestled with her, stomped on bubble wrap, and rolled in it. The next morning, he came back in while she was still in bed and started his own game. I hated to clean it up once she’d left.

Chicken Surprise

I had no idea chickens viewed snakes as lunch. What was not captured on this video was the snake-eater being pursued by the rest of the jealous flock. Clearly, the snake supply was inadequate. Kind of changes your view of the slur “chicken “ doesn’t it?

Bad, Good,better

The day after his wife disappeared in a kayaking accident, an Alaskan man answered his door to find two long-faced Alaska State Troopers.

“We’re sorry Mr.Jones, but we have some information about your wife,” said one trooper.

“Tell me! Tell me! Did you find her?” Jones shouted.

The troopers looked at each other. One said, “We have some bad news, some good news, and some really great news. Which do you want to hear first?”

Dreading what was coming, an anxious Mr.Jones said, “Give me the bad news first.”

The trooper said, “I’m sorry to tell you, sir, but this morning we found your wife’s body in the Bay.”

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Jones. Stammering, he asked, “what’s the good news?”

The trooper continued, “When we pulled her up, she had 12 twenty-five pound king crabs and 6 good-size Dungeness crabs clinging to her. In all fairness, you are entitled to a share in the catch.”

Outraged, Mr. Jones demanded, “If that’s the good news, what’s the great news?”

The trooper said, “We’re going to pull her up again tomorrow.”

Photo by Summer Li on Pexels.com

My Favorite Joke

The crowds had been packing the traveling “tent revival” every night that week, grateful offerings filling the pockets of the evangelist. Cure after cure was enacted in the sweltering heat of those July evenings. Emotions were at an all time high on the last night as the last two afflicted souls reached the evangelist at the front of the tent..

Struggling up the steps on her crutches poor Mrs. Smith hobbled up to the evangelist. “Heal me! I haven’t been able to walk without crutches in twenty years.”

“Yes, Sister! You will be healed! Go behind the screen and wait with the others sinners. I’ll get to you all at one time.

Johnny Jones was the last in line. “I have a lifth. It hath made my life awful. Pleath heal me of my lifth!”

“Yes, Brother!  You will be healed!  Go behind the curtain with all the others and you will all be healed at once.”

The evangelist offered up a long, heartfelt prayer for healing.  Weeping could be heard all over the tent.  Finally, he concluded, calling out dramatically.  “Mrs. Smith, you haven’t been able to walk without crutches for twenty years, have you?”

“No, Lord!” she replied from behind the curtain.

“You are healed! Throw your right crutch over the curtain.” Her right crutch clattered over the curtain. “Now throw your left crutch over the curtain.” The left crutch followed.

Thunderous “Amens!” echoed all over the tent.

“Johnny Jones, you are healed of your lisp.  Call out to us in a loud, clear voice so all can hear!” demanded the evangelist!

“Mithuth Thmith just fell on her ath!”

No Fool Like……

Things didn’t go well from the start on Croc’s last visit to the vet. My half mastiff, half lab doggy boy weighs one hundred twenty-five pounds and pulls like a tractor. Desperate to sniff a steaming pile of poop, he snatched me down the instant I stepped out of the truck. I sprawled elegantly across the pavement, knocking my nose on the curb. I’d foolishly worn a skirt, so passersby were treated the view of my new undies as I struggled to grab the leash and avoid a greater disaster. Fortunately, Croc was fascinated by a steaming pile of dog poop and hadn’t escaped into traffic. He pondered sampling it as I struggled to my feet, felt around to find my glasses in another mess, and staunched the flow of blood from my damaged knees. He showed no sympathy for me as we made our way in, choosing instead to attempt a friendship with a five pound Yorkie. The tiny beast and her dainty mom were traumatized at the slobbering beast dragging me toward them. My muddied, bloodied countenance did little to reassure the duo, despite my assertion he only wanted to play. Happily, the teeny dog was the original mean girl. She tore into Croc, teaching him a lot about little, mean dogs. The staff got us in a room straight away. No waiting!

Four hundred and fifty dollars later found us checking out. By now Croc was happily munching his cookie. Once again, I was sobered at the cost of well-dog care, despite having experienced it only six months before. Incidentally, I had another dog at home scheduled for a pricey visit the very next day. I definitely can’t handle both at once. I’d made that mistake once, a sad story for another day.

Mean Doggy and her mom stood between my behemoth and the exit. Meany snarled maniacally at us, terrifying Croc. I enjoyed that. Momma was crying to the staff, “Can you find a home for her. I’m sick and I can’t take care of her no more.” She sobbed piteously. It was heartbreaking so I hurried out. After I got Croc, also known as Meatball, in the truck, I called Bud.

“Can we adopt a Yorkie? A sick, old lady has to get rid of her.” I went back for the poor dog. Miss Ann, her mama was delighted she’d found a sucker and pulled out her tattered checkbook to pay for Meany’s visit.

On learning her bill was ninety dollars, Mama paled. “Can you hold this check till next Tuesday?”

“I’ll get it. She’s my responsibility now.” Miss Ann took my number. True to her promise, she visits Biscuit, the little Yorkie, pretty often. She’s even taken Biscuit home for a visit a couple of times. Biscuit always seems to enjoy their visits, but doesn’t mourn for her.

More to come.

All His Idea

My son recently had surgery. He is recovering well.  That is not the story.  Bud and I came to spend a few days to stay with him at the hospital and help my daughter-in-law with their two Akitas.  Akitas are huge furry dogs who shed copiously.  Every day, there is enough hair on the floor to cover a whole new dog.  The kids just moved and still have boxes to unpack.  They have an aging vacuum cleaner that struggles with dog hair and has to be unstopped every few minutes to empty. Sadly, the vacuum cleaner implements are still packed in a moving box. I am the primary housekeeper since John is in the hospital and my daughter-in-law spends time with him and tries to keep their lives going.  That being said, I need a fully functional vacuum cleaner with implements. “I am going to buy a vacuum cleaner as soon as I can get to a store.  I cant’t keep up with the dog hair with this old vacuum cleaner and a dust cloth.”

Bud thought I could.  “It vacuums just fine.  You just need to unstop it when it plugs up.”

”It does not work fine.  Take me to the store.”

“I don’t have time right now.  I have to………” He mumbled as he walked off.  He clearly intended to avoid the store.

The next day, I went to pick my daughter-in-law up after her hospital visit.  She took me to the store and I got a nice vacuum cleaner.  All the comings and goings have been hard on the dog’s nerves.  The next morning,  DIL left me at the hospital and picked Bud up, after he’d spent the night.  When they got in the house, a horrible mess greeted them at the door.  Trash was scattered all over the kitchen.  One of the dogs had dragged a box of grits off the counter and stomped them all into the rug.  There was liquid dog poop smeared in the bathroom rug.  The dogs made enough mess between them to keep that new vacuum cleaner busy for a couple of hours.

After the storm, Bud remarked to DIL.  “I told Linda y’all probably need a new vacuum cleaner.”

How did it get to be his idea?

Big Mouth Kids

Some interesting quotes from children:  Not all from mine, thank goodness

From a three-year old boy learning to potty from his dad. “Cool penis dad!”

The same boy exiting the bathroom:  “There’s a lot of turds in there!”

My three-year-old son advising his father:  Don’t let Baby Sister in the bathroom with you.  She’ll pull your penis.  Ain’t she rude!”

The same boy to an older deaf neighbor:  “YOU CAN’T HEAR THUNDER!”  Of course he’d heard this from his father.

From my daughter standing behind a portly lady in line at the grocery story.  I gave her a look and shushed her when she tried to comment.  The lady turned to walk away and my little one chimed out,  “I sure was nice not to call her a big, old, fat lady, wasn’t I, Mommy?

My niece:  “Boogers taste like pickles.”  I told my daughter and my little grandson spoke to himself, “I like that girl.”

I told my first grade teacher, “My mama said she wouldn’t take a sick dog to Dr. Jones.  She bristled, “I’ll have you know my father is a very good doctor!”  I couldn’t wait to get home to tell Mother.

 

 

Afternoon Funny

 

 

lawXmas-cart-2lawyer-cat A divorce court judge said to the husband,”Mr Geraghty,I have reviewed this case very carefully and I’ve decided to give your wife $800 a week.”
“That’s very fair,your honour,” he replied. “And every now and then I’ll try to send her a few bucks myself.”

A physician, an engineer, and an attorney were discussing who among them belonged to the oldest of the three professions represented.

The physician said, “Remember, on the sixth day God took a rib from Adam and fashioned Eve, making him the first surgeon. Therefore, medicine is the oldest profession.”

The engineer replied, “But, before that, God created the heavens and earth from chaos and confusion, and thus he was the first engineer. Therefore, engineering is an older profession than medicine.”

Then, the lawyer spoke up. “Yes,” he said, “But who do you think created all of the chaos and confusion?”

“You seem to be in some distress,” said the kindly judge to the witness. “Is anything the matter?”
“Well, your Honour,” said the witness, “I swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but every time I try, some lawyer objects.”

To help someone before they commit a crime means you are their
accomplice.
To help someone after they commit a crime means you are their attorney.

 

A lawyer died and was standing in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter said, “you can’t come in here… you have to go to the other place”. But the lawyer was really good and pleaded his case to the point where St. Peter said, “OK… here’s what I’ll do. You will spend the same amount of time in hell as you did on earth, and then you can spend the rest of eternity up here.” The lawyer figured this wasn’t too bad of a deal, so he said “OK”. St. Peter said, “Great… I’ll see you in 350 years.”. The lawyer said, “But, how is that possible… I’m only 65 years old!”. St Peter said, “We go by billing hours”.

 

A plumber went to the attorneys house to unstop the sink. When he finished he said to the attorney “that will be $400.00.” The attorney became irate “What do you mean $400.00, you were only here 20 minutes, that’s ridiculous!!” The plumber replied, “I thought the same thing when I was an attorney”.

Escape Artist

Kate was an absolutely adorable little bundle of energy, her smile, a burst of sunshine.  I couldn’t get enough of her, except at bedtime.  Bedtimes were a marathon of up and down, back and forth.  She climbed like a monkey. By sixteen months, she’d mastered climbing over the rails of her crib.  With no fear of falling, she’d plunge to the floor.  In the interest of saving her brain, we had no choice but to put her in a twin bed. The total freedom of that bed made getting her to bed even more of a challenge, usually involving cuddling, books, quiet play, and numerous trips to put her back to bed.  Most of the time, I had to lie down with her till she drifted off.  As often as not, I’d be asleep first so she’d try to crawl over me to get out.

We had dinner guests one evening.  I made a fruitless effort to get her to be early. It seemed to give her extra energy for her usual festivities. This particular evening, she was proud she’d learned to take her clothes off, so she stripped to the skin before emerging naked as the day she was born.  I left the table four or fives times to times to dress her and put her back to bed.  The admiration of the guests only strengthened her determination to show off.    Bud always thought he knew a better way.  The last time she showed up, ringlets bouncing and little pink butt shining, he took a stern tone.  “Baby girl, if you pull your clothes off and come in here again, I’m gonna knock a knot on your head.”  This would have been a first if he had laid a hand on her. He put her back in bed and said in a gruff tone, “Now, I guess she’ll stay there!”

Our conversationed resumed.  I wondered resentfully why he hadn’t done that before.  After a few minutes, we heard pat, pat, pat coming down the hall.  A tiny girl, grinning like a bear eating briars tip-toed into the ding room.  Naked as a jay bird, she wore her brother’s football helmet on her head.  I guess he had made an impression.