The Adventures of Roger the Baby

Today:  Roger’s Teeny Communication Foible

“I need your advice, Roger.” I remarked to my three-month-old baby, Roger.

“Wait until I’m through drooling.” Roger replied evenly.

“I’m hiring a babysitter.”

“Nancy, listen . . . “

“Don’t call me Nancy, Roger. Call me Mother, Roger, remember?”

“You mean you want me to call you Mother Roger Remember, Mother?”

“Oh Roger!  Your linguistics are appalling!”

“Perhaps, but no babysitter, huh?  I’ll just nap.”

“I’m acquiescing but reluctantly, Roger.”

“Oh and bring home a rattle, Nancy.”

“You mean bring home a rattle, Mother, Roger!”

“Fine! Bring home a rattle mother roger too, if you must then, Nancy.”

Roger and his mother, Nancy
Roger and his mother, Nancy

Until next time . . . I love you

Bedtime Stories for Grown Up Children #55555

 

Pamela Darling

Dear Pamela darling,

Oh joy!  I am getting married!  You’ll never believe how it happened!

I first set eyes on handsome Smolden Farlington, world renowned British row-boat archeologist, whilst he was boating down the Thames in his luxury yacht, Diana Who? a hand-me-down from Prince Charles himself!

I just happened to be sailing by in the opposite direction — seated coquettishly in my restored, side-seat, sculling rowboat (once belonging to King Richard III) — with Hargrove and Mabel – a couple whom I had recently hired to be my traveling companions and a couple whom, I might also add, were proving themselves to be excellent rowers!

But perhaps I should back up momentarily lest I confuse you, Pamela darling.

As you know, my name is Elizabeth Plinkton.   But I never told you that I am the Elizabeth Plinkton – of the famous hair-comb-empire Plinktons!  My great-grandfather, Sir Randolph Plinkton, having invented the comb with the tapering teeth from large to small — yes, Pamela, darling, just like the one you currently have in your bathroom drawer right now!

In fact, I’m so rich I’m nearly a freak, Pamela! But alas, being exceedingly rich makes one want to die from shear boredom.  You’re lucky you’re poor, Pamela, darling, for restoring historic rowboats as one’s only purpose in life turns out to be rather dull I’m afraid.

Which is why I had just slipped gently and quietly into the water – unbeknownst to Hargrove and Mabel — to end my life when, at that precise moment, Smolden Farlington and I passed each other like two ships in the night and our eyes met – his peeking out from beneath the bill of his borrowed captain’s hat and, mine – peering through the murky waters of the Thames.

Oh Pamela, darling!  It was love at first sight!

I shall be married Sunday next, Pamela, darling!  I would dearly love your presence- but, alas, you’re much too poor to invite– a fact that nearly breaks my heart but not quite.

Yours ever,

Elizabeth

horribel art by Linda Vernon Humor
Elizabeth Plinkton

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Spill The Beans Saturday

Spill the Beans

 

Welcome, Dear Readers, to Spill the Beans Saturday where I confess personal things about myself that you may have suspected but you were much too polite to mention.

 

I’ve never tasted a peanut and jelly sandwich because I just intuitively know I’m not going to like it.

I think all professional sports would be vastly improved if they were all done on horseback.

I love steak, but for some reason looking at cows never makes me hungry.

I always order spaghetti with mizithra cheese whenever I go to the Spaghetti Factory but I always trip up trying to pronounce mizithra so now I just point to it on the menu like I don’t speak English.

I also can’t pronounce Quardotriticale but luckily it’s not on the Spaghetti Factory’s menu.

In the solar system, my favorite star is the sun, my favorite planet is earth and my favorite belt is the asteroid belt.

If I had a nickel for every quarter I ever had I’d have no idea how much money I’d have.  You wouldn’t happen to know would you?  (If so please don’t tell me, I’ll just feel bad.)

My favorite Spanish phrase is “Arroz con Pollo”followed closely by “mi tortilla es su tortilla.”

I would marry Norm McDonald very much.

When it comes to states that are completely surrounded by water, Hawaii is probably my favorite.

I really haven’t been that excited about space since they stopped calling it outer space.

I want to know what keeps really small hummingbirds from mating with great big dragon flies.

I’d definitely buy a bumpersticker that says “honk if you like to honk”

I think Trump should start his own line of cologne and call it:  Does it stink in here or is it just me?

 

And that concludes Spill the Beans Saturday.  Have a great day!

Bad Ideas for Kindergarten Show and Tell

Bad Ideas for Kindergarten Show and Tell

 

Ignited Crepe Suzette

 

Alien implants

 

Old stogies I have found

 

A signed copy of  Mein Kampf

 

The license plates daddy made

 

Any type of Hooch

 

Auntie Bev’s puppy jerky recipe

 

Grandpa’s Toupee

 

The Ark of the Covenant

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey Lookie! Hitler’s Got a Logo

Welcome Dear Readers to my video series called Magazines with Linda.  Join me won’t you as we flip through a magazine from 1931.

 

Until next time, I love you

Fun with Global Warming

Welcome Dear Readers to Friday Fictioneers where participants write a 100-word story about the new picture that is posted every week by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields over at Addicted to Purple.

Here’s this week’s cool picture taken by Janet Webb over at her blog, This That and The Other Thing:

Copyright Janet Webb
Copyright Janet Webb

Fun with Global Warming

“I just love Global Warming, Harvey!  I’ve lost ten pounds already on my all-fish diet!”

“You look great, Delores.  Love your shoes!”

“Thanks. I got them at Just Galoshes!”

“Oh no!  Delores!  Our new rowboat’s sprung a leak!”

“What? Where’d you get it? Oh don’t tell me!  Al Gore’s Rowboat Palace and Oar Emporium?”

“Yes.”

“Please say you got a life-time warranty, Harvey.”

“No.”

“A two-year, no-leak service plan?”

“No.”

“A 30-day guarantee?”

“No.”

“Did you get anything?”

“Just a pat on the back and two-week’s free Internet service.”

“That’s it?”

“And Al’s personal assurance.”

“Which was?”

“You’ll never Tipper!”

"Come buy my rowboats!"
“Come buy my rowboats!  Yeah!”

* * *

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields over at Addicted to Purple for faithfully hosting this super-fun challenge each and every week.

Until next time . . . I love you

My Bill Murray Groundhog Day Kiss

I’m not usually a lucky person. The slot machines I play are sure to be clinkety-clank-less, the numbers on my raffle tickets go unannounced, and, truth be told, I’ve never even had an opportunity to shout the word “Bingo” . . . unless, of course, it was his name-o.

So when I got kissed by Bill Murray at the AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-am Golf Tournament, they had to call the fire department to get me down from Cloud 9.

“No, you idiot, that’s Cloud 8!”

The whole thing would have never happened had I not stepped on the toes of a good-natured, somewhat tipsy Englishman while trying to get a glimpse of Clint Eastwood at the fifth hole at Spyglass -; breaking the ice between the Englishman and I, while simultaneously breaking most of his toes.

Not the exact Englishman  but gawdawful like him.

Clint proceeded to hit a ball that landed squarely on the green. Now, for secretive, humorous reasons known only to the British, this sent my new Broken Toed Buddy into a fit of laughter and ear-splitting wise-crack-ery; the likes of which can only be achieved after enjoying a hearty three-martini breakfast.

Take a Mulligan, Clint!” The English One advised and began to chant. “Mulli! Mulli! Mulli!” Finally, Clint turned to him and assuming his famous Dirty Harry persona (at least that’s what I assumed he was assuming) replied“Yeah, OK,” a comment to which the gallery responded with an explosion of laughter so uproarious, I was left to conclude that everybody there was British.

Then . . . suddenly . . . like a Cinderella story out of nowhere – weaving his way through the throngs to the tee—appeared The Great and Powerfully Funny, Bill Murray, Himself.

Bill Murray signing autographs at the AT&T Pro Am Pebble Golf Tournment
The Great and Powerfully Funny Bill Murray, Himself!

“Look! It’s Bill Murray!” I observed with all the subtlety of Lucy Ricardo spotting William Holden at the Brown Derby. My English Buddy didn’t miss a beat. “Hey Bill!” He screamed over the crowd. “This lady would like a kiss!”

Bill Murray responded by slowly turning around like he was Moe Howard hearing the dreaded phrase “Niagara Falls!” As he headed my way, the crowd was giddy with anticipation. I know it’s weird and maybe I’ve been watching too much I Love Lucy but what was running through my head at that exact moment was, “Wait until Ethel hears about this!”

Then, Bill Murray positioned himself in front of me and politely waited for the crowd to get their cameras ready and when the time was right . . .

Getting a kiss from Bill Murray
BINGO!

. . . suddenly the AT&T golf tournament faded away, and it was just me and my lips and Bill Murray kissing me . . . with his lips. I don’t know how long we kissed. It could have been an instant or it could have been an hour or possibly four or five hours (but I doubt it) that I was suspended in the bliss of Bill Murray’s kiss.

On the drive home, I suddenly realized it was February 2nd which meant – that’s right – I got kissed by Bill Murray on Groundhog day. And in the immortal the words of Carl the Greens keeper — after he was granted total consciousness on his deathbed by the Dali Lama –I thought:

So I got that going for me . . . which is nice.”

Bill Murray as Carl the Greens Keeper

Until next time . . . I love you (and that goes double for Bill Murray)