Year: 2012

Pottery Barn FAQ’s

Linda Vernon Pottery Barn , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This is NOT your ordinary wicker chair.  It’s a Pottery Barn chair! Which can only mean one thing:  this chair was made entirely of sea grass . . . SUSTAINABLE sea grass! 

Naturally everybody and their dog wants to know how Pottery Barn makes a chair out of sustainable sea grass.  How? how? how? everybody asks!  Woof? Woof? Woof?  asks everybody’s dogs.

And so, here’s some Pottery Barn Sustainable Sea Grass FAQ’s:

What does Pottery Barn mean by seagrass?

Pottery Barn knew you wouldn’t know that.  Like most Americans, you have probably never spent much time, if any, walking around on the bottom of the ocean like Pottery Barn has.  But if you did, you would find that on the bottom of every ocean is a gigantic lawn where sea creatures of all shapes and sizes bring their families to relax, play croquet and run three-tentacled races.

What does Pottery Barn mean by sustainable?

You don’t get out much do you?  After paying out beaucoup bucks and attending umpteen seminars on global warming and adhering to strict guidelines ad nauseam, PB has become licensed by Al Gore, himself, to use the word sustainable to describe a person, place or thing in Pottery Barn catalogs until well past the year 2017.

What does Pottery Barn mean by sustainable seagrass?

You would ask that.  Sustainable seagrass is any seagrass that has been painstakingly trimmed by the very fingers of Al Gore, himself,  in such a way as to make it grow back quickly and also in such as way as to give Al Gore a killer back ache in such a way as to cause Al Gore to hire a female masseuse to come to his room and give him a massage in such a way as to cause Al Gore to act so weird his wife divorces him.

But how does Pottery Barn make a chair out of seagrass?

Nosy aren’t you?  Again the answer lies with  Al Gore. As you may or may not know, Al Gore used to be the Vice President of the United States of America where he spent hours upon hours snacking on Funions and waiting for something untoward to happen to Bill Clinton.  He managed to keep busy by inventing a process he calls braiding.

On any given day, you can find Al Gore along with Leonardo Di Caprio (Al Gore’s best-looking, boot-licker sidekick) busily braiding sustainable seagrass chairs, lamps and even masseuse tables for Pottery Barn to offer to their highly discerning customers who are willing to pay top dollar for any furniture braided by Al and Leo as long as they 1) promise to wash their hands first and 2) promise to preface all Al and Leo’s offerings with the adjective “sustainable.”

But why does Pottery Barn call itself a  pottery barn when it is clearly a store?

Go away kid you bother me.

 

Until next time  . . . I love you (way more than Pottery Barn)

Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge Try 2: Herbert Huv Gets the Heave Ho!

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , ,

This weekend’s Trifecta challenge is to write a story between 33 and 333 words using the picture for a prompt. 

 

Herbert Huv Gets the Heave Ho!

Herbert Huv’s wife, Hev, was about ready to give Herbert Huv the heave ho.  Hev Huv had had it with Herbert Huv’s hoarding.   Oh how Hev had hounded Herbert — yet Herbert was still hellbent on hoarding.

One day however Herbert Huv said he would hoard no more.  Hev Huv was so happy she hugged her husband Herbert Huv hard!  “How Heoric!” Hev Huv homaged.

It wasn’t until he added that he was also a hermaphrodite hooked on heroin that he got the heave ho.

The Archaeology Gazette – Breaking News About What Happened A Long Time Ago!

Linda Vernon Archaeology , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today’s Top Stories in Archaeology:

15,000-Year-Old Fishing Village Discovered

On the count of three, a team of French Archaeologists unearthed a 15,000-year-old fishing village off the coast of Nip, Antarctica, suggesting that early Neolithic fishermen fishing off the coast of Nip were just as cold then as they are now.

The discovery was made by Jacques Pierre Jacques, a leading French Archaeologist who has been carefully sifting through snow looking for telltale signs of a 15,000-year-old fishing village for the last 27 years. 

Last week, his dedication was rewarded when he came across several 15,000-year-old snowballs, and what appeared to be several fishing poles crudely fashioned out of 15,000-year-old snow. 

Further excavation revealed an entire village of snow huts containing snow furniture, snow utensils and even primitive, beaded jewelry made entirely of snow.

Pictured: a 15,000-year-old fishing pole and primitive necklace made entirely of snow

The team of highly-paid, French Archaeologists will be returning to Yoplait, France with their findings where they will be performing further tests on the 15,000-year-old, snow artifacts using the latest in Magnetic Resonance Imaging.  The entire team is working together to keep their fingers crossed to ensure the snow does not melt.

Was the Ice Man Coming or Going?

I think he was on his way home . . .

A Team of French Archeologists have begun a 42-year study of Otzi, the ice man who was discovered under an extremely large pile of snow in the Alps in 1991, and who, prior to that, had been missing for approximately 6,000 years.  

Experts believe that Otzi was from a nearby Neolithic farming village where a rock was recently discovered with 6,000-year-old carvings scrawled onto it.

A team of highly-paid, French Neolithic Scrawl Experts were called  to the scene and after 17 years of research — they were finally able to translate the scrawls as:  a quart of ibex milk, a pound of yak butter and a dozen eggs from any animal that happens to be laying them. 

Using the latest in Magnetic Resonance Imaging, the team of highly-paid, French Archaeologists are hoping that it will take 42 years to determine whether the 6,000 year old ice man was just leaving for the store or was just coming home from the store.

No wait a minute . . . maybe he was just leaving . . .

 

Tooth Marks Thought to Be Those of Leonardo Di Vinci

A Team of French Archaeologists have been debating whether the tooth marks embedded in a 500-year-old chocolate chip cookie found underneath a cushion of an authentic Louis the XIV sofa  (currently belonging to  Jacques Pierre Jacques) are indeed those of Leonardo Di Vinci or those of Jacques Pierre Jacques’s brother-in-law, Pierre Jacques Pierre,  who was visiting last week and complained of hunger pangs.

“Well they could be Leonardo’s teeth marks because Leonardo didn’t like nuts and there are no nuts visible . . .
Using the very latest in Magnetic Resonance Imaging the team of highly-paid, French Archaeologists are hoping to have the answer before the end of the  next century. 

Until next time  . . . I love you

Salad Dressing Scientists Explain How to Make Salad Dressing The Scientific Way!

Linda Vernon Edible Tales, What the Scientiests are Thinking About , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today Dear Readers, I have a special treat in store for you!

I managed to track down a group of elusive scientists and talk them into showing us how to make oil and vinegar salad dressing the scientific way:

First, let’s meet The Scientists:

“Hi! My name’s Joe.”

“Hi!  My name’s Joe too.”

“Hi!  My name’s Joe but people call me Joe!”

“Hi I’m Joe and I’m about as Joe as it gets.”

Let’s take a minute to give our Salad Dressing Scientists a round of applause!

And now . . .how to prepare Oil and Vinegar Salad Dressing the Scientific Way!

Step One:  Reconfigure your kitchen refrigerator so that the reciprocating compressors are working to maximum capacity.

Uh oh!  Watch your step there Joe!

Oh sure it sounds like a lot of work, but really all you have to do is climb up in your kitchen attic (every kitchen has one) and disassemble the compressor.  Vacuum the dehydration system and viola!  Accessible Hermetic Compressors!  Who knew it would be so simple!

Step Two: Stick an olive on the end of a lead pipe.

That’s right!  Just like that!

This will give “slow” Joe (the Joe that’s always getting in everybody’s way) something to do while the other Joe’s continue to prepare the scientific salad dressing.   (Slow Joe LOVES eating olives off lead pipes.)

Step Three:  Adjust the Atmospheric Pressure Valves according to the atmospheric Pressure, PSIA.

OK, this is kind of a pain, but really it’s simply a matter of finding your kitchen’s cellar (every kitchen has one) and going down there and adjusting the knobs until the calibration level is 11.336.847.11111.0000.1.2.2.f.3.4.

If Joe can do it so can you!  Oh and don’t forget to wear rubber gloves!

Step Four:  Take one large Baskin Robbins container, eat all the ice cream out of it, then fill with oil and pour onto the  Refrigeration Compressor

Do it this way like Joe is only don’t get it all over the place like Joe always does.  Joe’s whole house smells like an oily rag!

Step Five:  Stick another olive on a lead pipe and hand it to “slow” Joe as by now he has probably figured out how to put the last one into his mouth.

Poor guy is addicted to these things!

Step Six:  Go to Costco and buy two restaurant sized jars of pickles, eat all the pickles out of each and pour oil in one and vinegar in the other.  (Be sure to remove the finely divided carbon so as not to restrict oil flow, but that goes without saying, of course!)

Make sure the liquid in both containers is Even Steven.

Step Seven:  Pour a little out of both jars onto some lettuce making sure to strain out soluble or entrained metal salts and oxides.

This is a critical step in which everything could go horribly wrong due to low-side pressure in the evaporator — but as long as there is no drop in pressure in the suction line everything should taste pretty darned delicious!

Step Eight:  Have Head Honcho Joe give it a taste test!

Uh oh!  Head Honcho Joe isn’t pleased with the consistency and, unfortunately,  it’s far too late to do anything about that!

Step Nine:  Draw Head Honcho Joe a scientific diagram of just exactly what went wrong with the scientific salad dressing, scientifically.

This will explain everything.

Step Ten:  Offer Head Honcho Joe an olive on a lead pipe and keep feeding them to him until he ingests so much lead he can’t tell a Critical Property of Refrigerant from a Pressure-Temperature Refrigerant! HA!

Mmmmmm . . . .me really starting to likee these things says Head Honcho Joe!

Until next time . . . I love you


How to Tell if Your Husband Has Been Watching Too Much Golf

Linda Vernon Lists, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , ,

  • He used to be honest but now there’s nothing he likes better than a good lie

  • He’s always trying to calculate his gas yardage

“Uh . . . let’s see here . . . $4.37 times 280 miles divided by 36 inches . . . wait . . .”

  • He’s 63 now but he just can’t wait to turn 60 FORE!

  • He insists the only thing that quenches his thirst is a big glass of water hazard.

“Now you pinkie swear this is from the 7th hole at Spyglass, right?”

  • When it’s time for bed he announces he’s going to hole out.

  • He has to make sure everything is done the fairway.

  • He says he’ll only watch a movie that has Humphry Bogey Gart in it.

  • He’s trying to rig up the washing machine so it will have back spin.

“Wait . . . which way was it going before?”

  • Before he eats a potato chip he announces he’s going to “chip in”.

“Quiet everybody I’m chipping in!”

  • He has completely cut out food you have to slice.

“I can’t eat that! It will ruin my mental game!”

  • He won’t eat hard boiled eggs anymore because they don’t have dimples.

“What? No dimples? No eatie!

  • He freaked out because he bought a dozen donuts and there wasn’t a hole in one.

    “Wait! Don’t eat any! I’m going to take them back because I don’t think there’s a hole in one.”

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: Sean Penn Gives His Mom A Very Special Mother’s Day Gift

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , ,

The  Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: write a 33-word story incorporating the word mother. Here’s try 2:

 

 

Sean Penn Gives His Mom A Very Special Mother’s Day Gift

After the Mother’s Day E-card hurricane, Sean Penn borrowed a rowboat and rowed through a sea of nouns, commas and adjectives to save his mother who was clinging to a raft of spam.

“Ma! Grab onto the boat!  Hurry Ma!”

 

 

Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: A Very Special Mother’s Day Gift

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , , ,

Wahoo!

I am so happy and delighted, Dear Readers, to announce that My Brain Peanuts wrote a story called Henny Zoots Meets an Enigma that won this week’s Trifecta Writing challenge!! YAY!  My Brain Peanuts will be celebrating by eating three  huge pieces of Trifecta Writing Challenge Triple Chocolate Cake! 

Now for the weekend challenge:  write a 33-word story incorporating the word mother.

A Very Special Mother’s Day Gift

 Father outdid himself the year he arranged for Mother to square off with Sonny Liston for Heavyweight Champion of the World.  The fight lasted seven seconds.  Pity she didn’t remember any of it!

Until next time . . . I love you

Adventures in 1941 or Drunk as a Skunk Wearing War Time Trousers!

Linda Vernon Health and Beauty, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sometimes things just keep getting better.  I opened one of my vintage cookbooks this morning and guess what I found folded up neatly inside? A section of a newspaper from May 12, 1941, almost 60 years ago to the day!

So let’s take a look at some of the ads to see if we can discover what was on the minds of the average 1941 citizen:

Here’s an ad that will ruin your appetite:

Apparently back in 1941, people had a lot of excessive ugly hair which was not to be confused with plain ol’ ordinary ugly hair. Because in 1941, everybody’s hair was ugly, that goes without saying.  But apparently, it was only the excess ugly hair that they were worried about.

And apparently if you wanted this excessive ugliness eradicated, you had to go to a Gypsy Fortune-Teller/Seance-Conducting Madame where you could get your offending follicles removed scientifically using multiple needle electrolysis on your superfluous (and uncalled for!) hair.

And speaking of ugly hair, here’s an ad for making it look even worse:

Ah! Back in 1941, nothing gave hair that natural healthy glow like Bay Rum, Barbo Compound, and half a pint of water.

The ad says to try the recipe today and see how much younger you will look — assuming you fore go applying it to your hair and just chug it!

And then there’s the enigma of Wartime Trousers:

Heh? This one is a little tricky to figure out. Let’s see . . .  there’s a war going on . . . so therefore men’s vests don’t match their pants anymore . . .. so they have to send their vests to the Pants Matching Co. . . so they can make a vest to match their pants which are now called “Wartime Trousers”.

And even though the gentleman in the ad has an abnormally large head, he apparently doesn’t have an abnormally large brain — because if he did, why has he taken off his “War Trousers” when he’s suppose to be sending The Pants Matching Co. his vest?

Well anyway, we are going to have to chalk it all up to “Wartime Trouser Secrets of World War II and move on to:

You People Who Are Sick

Well thank goodness there was at least one Dr. Shane D.C. practicing medicine without a license back in 1941!  And not only did this guy somehow get a hold of an X-ray machine, he’s going to diagnose you without asking you a single question!  Talk about saving time!

Of course it’s going to cost you one, hard-earned dollar, so you might not want to do it.  But wait . . . .what if he throws in a Oscillotonometer  heart examination and what if he capitalized HEART EXAMINATION in the newspaper ad?  Would it be worth your hard-earned dollar then?

Still no?  But  what if you suffered from something on the list of symptoms like Deafness or Lumbago or, heaven forbid,  Piles?  What then?

You mean to say you would have actually walked around town in 1941 wearing an ill-matching Wartime Trouser/vest combination with your ugly excessive, hair sticking out everywhere  –drunk as a skunk from ingesting the Barbo hair dye recipe — with extra rum?

OK fine go ahead . . .but I’m telling Madame Stiver on you, so watch out!

Until next time  . . . I love you

Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: Stealing Rose Con Pollo’s Heart

Linda Vernon Writing life , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
This week’s Trifextra challenge is simple, but ambiguous.
 
Three truths and a lie.
 
33 to 333 words
 

Stealing Rose Con Pollo’s Heart

 
Whenever she watched Fernando, Rose Con Pollo’s stomach spasmed with a jolt of love and her heart went pitty pat, pitty pat,  pitty . . . pat . . . pat. . . pitty . . . because she was in love and because she needed a pacemaker — but mostly because she was in love.
 
Rose adored everything about Fernando. The way he could hold his breath for four and a half minutes at a time, the way he could dive so deep to the bottom of the sea; but mostly, she loved the way he looked at her when their eyes met through the green bubbly water of the glass-bottomed boat where Rose liked to sit and watch her beloved Fernando dive for pearls.
 
Fernando  had stolen Rose Con Pollo’s heart, plain and simple.
 
Of course, there was no way Rose Con Pollo was going to leave her husband, Arroz, and run off with Fernando no matter how many pearls he found for her.  Don’t make her laugh!  No way!  Not a snowball’s chance  . . .
 
 
 

How to Drink a Castor Oil Sandwich in 1949

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , ,

I found this little 1949 booklet at the thrift store the other day.

Apparently, back in 1949, before Facebook was invented, people had to make friends with whomever (or whatever) they could scrape up.

Alright fine, but how hard up does a person have to be to count Pure Bicarbonate of Soda as one of their friends?

I’m talking to you people of 1949! What were you thinking making Bicarbonate of Soda your friend?  Hello?  . . . ok, fine don’t answer me.

I’ll make something up and say it’s true. That’s what you get for ignoring me!

Let’s start by pretending we live in 1949.  What else were you doing today anyway. (I mean besides pretending to be working).

As you know, the first thing to do when pretending anything is to rush over to Google and start asking a lot of unnecessary questions:

What was the cost of a first class stamp in 1949?   

Google says: $.03


Who was the President of the United States in 1949?

Google says: “Harry S. Truman”


Why did Newfoundland join the Canada Confederation?   

Google says: “You’re joking right?”

How do you write 1949 in Roman Numerals?  

Google says: “Get outta here kid, ya bother me.”

Well apparently Google got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. So let’s try to conjure up 1949 by using this picture from 1951 that I found in my baby book and subtracting 2 years from it in our minds.

Checking to see if limbs are operable
Me and Mom (I'm on the right)

As you can see from this picture of me and Mom, 1949 was rather bleak, stark and dark. On the upside, they did have doilies (one) and lamps (one) and a window (one).

And even though you don’t see any “friends” in this picture, I’ll bet you anything if you were to go into the kitchen, you would have found Mom’s besty, Pure Bicarbonate of Soda, relaxing on the kitchen shelf, at the ready for Mom should she suddenly need Dear ol’ Carby.

OK, now that our minds are firmly ensconced in 1949, let’s just pretend something came up, and we are going to need our new BFF, Dear ol’ Carby, to come to the rescue.

Let’s say we were in need of . . . oh I don’t know maybe a . . . CASTER OIL SANDWICH?

Apparently back in 1949, there was some weirdness going on. First, that a Caster Oil Sandwich was actually on any menu at all, and second, that  it was a sandwich  you were suppose to :“Drink while effervescing.” 

I don’t know about you, but I rarely effervesce when I drink sandwiches . . . but that’s just me.

What’s say we toddle back  over to Google, shall we?  And let’s ask Google why anybody would want to drink a Caster oil Sandwich:

Under what circumstances would someone drink a Caster oil Sandwich?

Google says: “Get outta here kid, you bother me!”

Fine be that way!

If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen with Dear ol’ Carby preparing a Caster oil Sandwich for our new besty, Goog.

Eww!
Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Weekend Challenge Try 2: Poindexter’s Birthday

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Weekend Trifecta Writing Challenge is to take a scene that involves (or affects) at least three people and write this scene from the point of view of three of the characters, using 33 words for each character.  —  HA! Just realized after writing my story I didn’t follow these directions . . . oops! 

Poindexter’s Birthday

“I hate my name,”  little Poindexter Hepatitis remarked to his mother, Roberta.

“Which one? Poindexter or Hepatitis?” Roberta asked absently — for her mind was more agreeably engaged with the placement of the candles on Poindexter’s birthday cake.

Poindexter was about to answer when he was interrupted by his father, Vladimir Hepatitis. 

“Nonsense!” Vladimir Hepatitis harrumphed. “Vladimir is a good enough name for me and it’s a good enough name for my son.”

“But father, you didn’t name me Vladimir, you named me Poindexter”

“No kidding? What was I thinking?”

The Hepatitis’s couldn’t stop laughing as they ate their cake.

Vladimir Poindexter Hepatitus

The Weekend Trifecta Writing Challenge: The Adventures of the Three Mosquito Brothers

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Weekend Trifecta Writing Challenge  is to take a scene that involves (or affects) at least three people and write this scene from the point of view of three of the characters, using 33 words for each character. 

NOTE to Trifecta Challenge:  I am assuming it’s OK to use mosquitos instead of people. 

The Adventures of the Three Mosquito Brothers

“If only I sucked as much as you do, Ted!” Mosquito Tod Plurp remarked to his brother Ted “the slurp” Plurp – which immediately made their other brother, Edwardio, jealous.

“But Edwardio sucks big time too, Tod.” Ted said and shot Tod a look that said you’re hurting his feelings Bro!

Edwardio, who was sulkily sucking, just sighed.

Ted and Tod were in the process of apologizing profusely to their brother Edwardio  (who continued his sucking sulking) when a hand came down and flattened both Ted and Tod Plurp which made Edwardio stop sucking long enough to smile before skedaddling!

The End.

The idea for this post was suggested to me by Asifa at Crazy Life . . . Always Expect d UnEXpec TEd!!!!  who wants to spread awareness through posts for  Nothing But Nets a global, grassroots campaign of the united Nations Foundation to raise awareness and funding to fight malaria — the cause of large scale deaths in developing countries. So thank you Asifa for bringing this to our attention.

The Mysteries of Existence Explained

Linda Vernon Existence and Stuff, What the Scientiests are Thinking About , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers to Lazy Friday Blog Day where I go to all the trouble of finding something I’ve already written, shaking the cobwebs off it, airing it out a bit and then giving it a quick once over with the iron.  Anyway here it is:

The Mysteries of Existence Explained

Good News!  I finally found a hobby!   It’s thinking up theories that would explain the mystery of existence. It’s fun.  Here’s what I’ve got so far:

The Advanced Form of Donkey Kong Theory of Existence

Could it be that we don’t really exist in this world at all?  Maybe we are actually in some cosmic Pizza Parlor playing a video game that seems like real life only when we die; it just means our pizza is ready?

There is a lot of evidence supporting this particular take on the nature of reality in that when your pizza is ready they “call your number”.   And we sometimes refer to someone’s dying as “their number being up.”  It seems plausible to a science  hobbiest such as myself,  that life might be just an advanced form of Donkey Kong you are playing until your pizza’s ready.

The “I Say Congealed You Say Cajoled” Theory of the existence

This one goes like this. Life is merely a humongous glob of uncongealed matter put here to cajole us into thinking that matter matters.

The Great Uncongealed

This conglomeration of The Great Uncongealed is designed to keep us so busy we won’t even notice that we don’t know who we are — what we are — where we came from — where we are going – or what we’re supposed to be doing. If true, it seems to be working pretty good so far.

The Life is Simply a Figment of One’s Imagination Theory of Existence

This is the theory where upon  everything exists because and only because you “think” it exists.  It goes something like this:

You’re brain concentrates only on the things you want to have in your life.  It does this by directing a beam of energy out of your eyes and into, say, your living room, where whatever it is you just thought about is materialized just seconds before you sit down in that chair that was there seconds earlier but isn’t there anymore. (The Universe thinks this is hilarious, by the way, so just pretend you don’t notice or you will only encourage it.)

I know it’s a little confusing.  Perhaps if I tried explaining it in a different way . . .

Let’s say you are out in the forest when a tree suddenly falls just as you are entering the cottage of the three bears.  And as far as you know, there is nobody else in the forest.  Well, except maybe for Goldilocks but just for the sake of argument, let’s pretend she’s deaf. Isn’t this fun?

Did  the tree make any noise when it fell?  If you answered no, did it ever occur to you that you might have been slurping your porridge so loudly you couldn’t have heard a nuclear explosion?

My point is – and I assure you I have one . . . I think . . . well, now you’ve got me so upset about poor little deaf Goldilocks, I forgot what my point was . . . I hope you’re happy.

“Say what?”

Until next time . . . I love you

The AARP / AAA Smackdown for Little Ol’ Moi

Linda Vernon It Came In the Mail, Things I Have Trouble With , , , , , , , , , , ,

Gosh! I haven’t been this popular since I was in the eighth grade and three boys liked me at the same time.  But that magical time of youth was nothing compared to the fuss AARP and AAA are making over me. It’s enough to make a girl blush into a coma! LOL (laughing out loud)

And all because I’m so alluring (ly old).

Today it’s AAA that’s come a-courting.  For instance, this tender love letter  arrived only moments ago by special dispatch because, ahem . . . there’s not a minute to lose:

Now that’s exactly what I was thinking on the way to my mailbox . . .  I was literally thinking if only someone, somewhere would just give an old, sick, poor loser such as myself one last chance . . . well, I just figured it was just some kind of OFFOM! (old-fogey fantasy of mine)

And then when I proceeded to read:

“Or you may want to wipe out any outstanding debts after your passsing or relieve your family from the expense of a funeral.”

Well, doggone it, my heart melted, AAA! (American Automobile Association!)

You are so Frigging Sweet!  You mean to tell me you want to wipe out my debts after my passing?  You are soooo adorable OMG ! (oh my god!)

One small question though– you don’t say after passing what?  Do you mean after passing the bar exam or something because I’ve never been to law school — you must be getting me mixed up with someone else. ROFBAHL  (rolling on floor breaking a hip laughing!)

Anyway, I’m delighted that you want to relieve my family from the expense of a funeral and that’s great and all, but we don’t normally go around paying for random people’s funerals so I’m a little confused MBTA! (must be the alzheimers!)

But wait a minute.   Are you being ironic on purpose AAA?  Because didn’t you just imply that any minute now I could KTB? (kick the bucket?)  Oh I get it, you’re just messing with my SM!  (senile mind!)

SILLY AAA! (silly american automobile association!)

PS. I so frigging love you right now I can’t even say!

************

Until next time . . . I love you

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grownup Children #138

Linda Vernon bedtime stories for grown up children, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

 

Ted Flerk’s Autobiography

“As you know, children, we always observe National Rubber Spatula Day here at Connie’s Kindergarten Cuisine Academy and–” Miss Connie’s announcement was interrupted by a collective moan from the classroom.

“And,” Miss Connie continued unfazed, “I therefore will be reading to you from Scraping By — the autobiography of Ted Flerk who you will remember is credited with inventing the rubber spatula.

Miss Connie calmly opened to page one and began reading in a clear, strong voice as several students rushed for the door that Miss Connie had had the presence of mind to bolt.

“The story of how it came to pass that fateful day in Mother’s kitchenette, when I, Ted Flerk, invented mankind’s most important baking utensil, the rubber spatula, is, I suppose, a tedious tale, or, more precisely, a thorough recounting, if you will, of—“

Suddenly a loud boom erupted from the back of the classroom. Miss Connie looked over the top of her reading glasses. Charles was out of his seat.

“If you’re thinking you’re going to bust down that door, Charles, you’ve got another thing coming.” Miss Connie said mildly. ” Now, put down that battering ram and return to your seat immediately!”  Miss Connie continued reading.

” . . . the events leading up to the day I thought of inventing the Rubber Spatula, including what happened while I was physically inventing the rubber spatula, itself,  in addition to a detailed accounting of my life up to that point– “

Suddenly there was a mighty crash and a tinkling of glass. Miss Connie calmly put her finger on her place in the book and looked up. Several girls were helping each other climb through the jagged glass of the broken classroom window. A line of students was quickly forming behind them. Miss Connie chose to ignore the interruption and continued reading.

” . . . and exactly how I, Ted Flerk, was able to scrape every type of bowl known to man leaving no detail undocumented. . . “

At 3:00 sharp, Miss Connie bookmarked her place in the book, turned out the lights of her now empty classroom and went home.

 

Inventor of the rubber spatula
Ted Flerk, inventor of the rubber spatula and the Author of Scraping By