Whatnot Wednesday: Baby Eating

Biff Sock Pow over at his blog Biff Sock Pow has added a new challenge for us.  Go to his blog and check him out (but only if you like to laugh).  It’s called Whatnot Wednesday.  The rules are simple (ish).  Here they are:

How To Play Whatnot Wednesday

  1. Write a blog post entitled “Whatnot Wednesday” (it can be about anything)
  2. Add these guidelines to the bottom of your post
  3. Add a link to this post in your post
  4. Add the tag #WhatnotWednesday to your post
  5. Post your post
  6. In the comments below in my post, leave a link to your Whatnot Wednesday blog post
  7. See how many bullet points you an end with the word “post”
  8. Most of all …. HAVE FUN!

Today’s Theme:  Baby Eating and Whatnot

Welcome Dear Readers! Well it seems the time has finally come to talk about baby eating, a topic that some of you may find a tad offensive. However, for those of you brave enough to continue reading past this point, let’s dig in and talk about baby eating, shall we?

Cue the first slide:

Disaster-Being-eaten-Lion-eating-baby
NO! WAIT! Don’t eat my baby!  At least let me run home and get the ketchup first!

Is it just me, or does this woman look like she’s not really trying very hard to save her baby?  I mean, she could just reach over and pry the baby out of the lion’s mouth.  Maybe she could even get the lion to open his mouth on his own with a few “here kitty kitty’s.” But no.  Instead she looks like she’s about to say, “Wait here while I run home and get the rest of my children. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lambs tail and I’ll even bring the lamb for dessert.”

Cue the next slide:

Medieval-Mythology-Saturn-eating-babies
Excuse me honey, sorry to bother you while you’re . . . uh . . .  whatnot–ing, but can I have some money? The traveling baby-spice salesman is here.

Okay, here’s a mother who will clearly never make mother of the year.  She seems far more concerned with the fact that the window washer is squeegeeing the underside of her husband’s calf than with the fact that one of her babies is playing with a fire-breathing dragon while another one is being eaten whole by a farmer on his lunch break.

And don’t you get the feeling that the man at the gate just sold her a case of Big Daddy Magellan’s Medieval Mesquite Baby Seasoning Salt?

And the next slide please:

Mythology-Demon-Demon-eating-people1
These aren’t really babies he’s eating, but in keeping with our baby-eating theme, let’s just pretend they are, shall we?

Okay, here’s a baby eater that can’t even keep up!  He’s got babies coming out of his ears!  Clearly this baby eater has it all, wings, a full head (and body) of hair and a bellybutton that looks like Mickey Mouse. And even though he’s feasting on a baby, he still has rather kind eyes, don’t you think?

In fact, I have a feeling he’d make a better mother than the other mothers pictured above.  Maybe that why people babies  are lining up to be eaten by him — probably figuring that since they’re going to be eaten anyway — they might as well be eaten by a kind sort of monster — at least one who has a belly button shaped like Mickey Mouse.

Linda Vernon Humor Baby Eating
“Hey! Getting my leg bitten off isn’t even making me cry. Well that’s refreshingly unexpected!”

Whoa!  Here’s a baby eater that can clearly pack it away (and probably never gain a pound!).  He’s got no qualms about chowing down on a baby two-thirds his size. I just hope his eyes don’t prove to be bigger than his stomach and I just hope his stomach is able to handle an entire baby in one bite.

Nobody would eat a baby like this today.  The potential for choking is far to great! We can only assume that this man is competing in some sort of Medieval  baby-eating contest for which the prize is an all you can eat baby buffet.  Let’s just hope he’s got a big supply of Big Daddy Magellan’s Medieval Mesquite Baby Seasoning Salt on hand cause he’s gonna need it!

And that concludes this week’s Wednesday Whatnot post.  

 

 

R.I.P. Taffy May

When I was a little girl, the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow was a horse.

I really only voiced the question of my getting a horse to my parents a couple of times, knowing full well that the answer would be no, and, as a matter of pride,  I’d ultimately have to run away from home or, at the very least, stage a run away as in the following true scenario:

“Look at this Janey,” my father remarked to my mother, “I found Linda’s pajamas in this little 45-record case in the bushes just outside her window when I was mowing the lawn.”

Oh I was going to run away alright . . . eventually.

Ok, fine . . . if I wasn’t going to get a horse, at least I could try for a kitten.  This is how I went about it.  Step 1:  Convince my parents that I was head over heals in love with cats.  So I colored umpteen pictures of kittens and scotch taped them to my circa 1959 pink wall.  Step 2 wasn’t even needed because Step 1 worked like a charm.  Next thing I knew I was picking out my very own gray, long-haired kitten from a batch of 5 or 6.

In my excitement, I failed to notice that this particular kitten had issues.  It suffered from the world’s lowest kitty IQ.   Maybe that’s why the name I chose, Taffy May, seemed to fit her so well.

Taffy May was the perfect cat for a little girl to bond with.  Being nearly brain-dead, she allowed me to pick her up and carry her around without protest.  She slept with me all night under the covers which I thought was because she loved me so —  but more likely she just couldn’t figure a way out.

I loved stupid little Taffy May with all the passion of my nine-year-old heart and soul.  She failed to grow to full size due to the fact that while she was checking to see if there were any predators around to eat her cat food, the dog would wolf  it down.

She had one batch of kittens – if three can be considered a batch.  But being the little dummy that she was, she managed to lie on all three of them during the night and  in the morning the only one left breathing was my beloved, Taffy May.

Perhaps it was Karma (I know there was a car involved) the day Taffy May shuffled (or rolled) off this mortal world.  I was on my way home from school without a care in the world.  When I rounded the corner, there stood our across-the-street neighbor, Mr. Huey, holding a lifeless Taffy May up by the tail.

I don’t know how many times Taffy May had been run over, but judging from the fact that she was literally as flat as a pancake, it would be safe to assume more than once.  I screamed and ran into the house where I was inconsolable well into the night.  I never got another cat of my very own, out of respect for Taffy May, who will always have a place in my heart . . . about two feet wide and one and one-half inches deep.

Until next time . . . I love you

Nine California Earthquake Survival Tips

Welcome Dear Readers!  As you may have heard, California has been undergoing a series of strong earthquakes in California’s on-going journey to become the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

Whether you live in California or are just planning a vacation here, it is this  blog’s civic duty to provide some tips on what to do should you find yourself in the middle of a California earthquake.

 California Earthquake Survival Tips

Scream!  If that doesn’t stop the earthquake, place your hands over your eyes and scream louder.

Don’t batt an eye.  (Recommenced for native Californians only)

If you are inside run outside (unless of course it looks like  rain).

If you are at Starbucks, scream — then run around in circles taking care not to spill your latte on any celebrities.

Drop to the floor and roll around — especially if you happen to be on fire. (Don’t forget to scream)

Hyperventilate but as attractively as you can.

Quickly snap selfie of “You Doing Earthquake” 

Grab your California Earthquake survival pack and scram.  

Your California Earthquake survival pack should contain the following essentials:

  • Teeth whitener
  • Your own bags
  • Map to nearest In-N-Out
  • Your guide to recycling
  • Surfboard
  • Whole Foods rewards card
  • Sunscreen
  • The phone number of your acupuncturist, your life coach and your cat channeler
  • Essential Oils
  • Salad

 

Well, there you have it, Dear Readers!  Hope this helps.  Stay safe!

Until next time, I love you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

British Empire Atrocities or Happy Fourth of July!

Hello Dear Readers.  It seems the cold, cruel calendar will be ushering in the  Fourth of July tomorrow and before I’ll even have time to get out of bed!  The calendar is such a tyrant.

Which  brings us to another kind of tyranny (albeit in an ineptly worded segue). One that we Americans had foisted upon us on the Fourth of July  200- odd years ago by the British Empire — resulting in the Declaration of Independence!

I’d look up exactly how many years ago it was,  but I think google’s closed today. . . okay, okay I’ll try . . .

Hmm. . . As it turns out google is open but judging from the answers it’s given me, everybody went home early to light firecrackers.  They must have the temps working because I asked google the following question:

Hi Google, Happy 4th! Which reminds me, what were the atrocities the British Empire inflicted on the American Colonists that resulted in the Declaration of Independence?

And here’s the answers it gave me (as far as you know anyway).

1.  The British Empire kept messing with the price of crumpets causing the colonists all kinds of unpleasant menu-planning issues.

Linda Vernon Humor Thanksgiving Pic on the Fourth of July
“You no likee potatoes?”
“No we likee them, they’re a wonderful tuber. It’s just that we are going to have to hold off on the potato trading until we can ascertain what the crumpet situation going to be. Sorry.”

2.  The Colonists did not want to be bullied into memorizing a list of all of England’s past kings and queens in American public schools.

3.  If the Colonists hadn’t declared their independence, they would have had to wake up from their siestas early (see Spanish-American War) for tea time (see Atrocities of the British Empire)

4.  The Colonists had a premonition they weren’t going to appreciate the humor of Monty Python.

5.  The Colonists picked up on the fact that the British Empire thought they wore lame clothes and were borderline dirty.

6.  The British Empire imposed a tax on Nursery Rhymes which infuriated the colonists due to the fact that none of them even rhymed very well.

7.  American Colonists were vehemently opposed to using the word “row” instead of the word “fight” like the British Empire kept nagging them to do.

Fourth of July Essay Linda Vernon Humor
“Who never did him any harm but killed the mice in father’s barn?  I hate to break it to you, Redcoat, but harm and barn do not rhyme!”
“Oh yeah, you want to row about it?”
“You mean do I want to fight about it.”
“Uh . . it’s called row, not fight.”
“Oh yeah? Well I hate you.”
“Well I hate you too.”
‘Let’s row about it.”
“You mean fight about it?”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up!”

 

Well, Dear Readers, that about does it for the Fourth of July post.  I don’t know about you, but I’m already 4th-ed out!

Until next time . . . I love you

Meeting Jesus’s Dad

Welcome, Dear Readers, to this Sunday’s edition of The Bible According to Gregory.

Today in Sunday School, Gregory learned about the day Jesus brought his three favorite disciples to meet his Dad.

GregoryMeeting Jesus’s Dad

One day Jesus decided to take his three best friends, Peter, James and John up on a high mountain alone.   The bible doesn’t say how the other nine disciples felt about their not being invited and biblical scholars can only speculate that Peter, James and John came home to find their robes all tied together.

Anyway, once they all got up to the top of the mountain, the disciples watched while Jesus prayed.  The more Jesus prayed, the sleepier the disciples got.  Before you know it, the disciples were out like unattended oil lamps!

When the disciples opened their eyes,  Jesus had changed into his heavenly civvies which the disciples described as being as bright as the sun.

But that’s not all!  The disciples saw that there were now two men with Jesus.  One was Moses and the other one was Elijah.  Apparently the disciples knew who these two men were.  (Most biblical scholars agree they were wearing name tags.)

Peter piped up immediately and said he would like to build them all some tents.  One for Jesus, one for Moses, one for Elijah and one for the little boy who lived down the lane (Peter was a kidder).

Anyway just as Peter was going on and on about tents, he was interrupted by what looked like a shiny cloud, but was actually Jesus’s Dad, God.  God said:

“This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased; hear him.” 

When the disciples heard God’s voice the disciples all screamed and threw themselves face down on the ground.

After awhile, Jesus came and touched them and told them not to be afraid and when the disciples looked up the two men were gone and there was no sign of the shiny cloud.

As they came down the mountain Jesus asked the disciples not to tell anybody what they saw until the Son of Man had been raised from death.  The disciples pretended to know what Jesus was talking about even though they had no idea what Jesus was talking about.  (When asked about this later, the disciples insisted they did  keep the story a secret and had absolutely no idea how it had gotten in the bible!)

When they got back home sure enough Peter, John and James had their robes all tied together.

But Jesus’s stuff was just as he had left it.

“Fellas I’d like you to meet Noah and Elijah.”
“No I’m Noah!”
“Oh sorry, you guys look just alike!”

And there you have it, Dear Readers. What Gregory learned in Sunday school. Please check back next week to find out what Gregory learns next.

 

Until next time . . . I love you

The Bible According to Gregory: Jeff and the Ammonia-ites

Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of The Bible According to Gregory. Let’s listen in and see what Gregory learned in Sunday School this morning shall we?

LInda Vernon humoous bible storiesJeff and the Ammonia-ites

One day in the biblical land of unpronounceable names, there lived a man named Jephthah but let’s just call him Jeff.  Jeff had been shunned by his entire family and had to live in the land of Tob, a land which was considered inferior because it was so easy to pronounce.

But Jeff had a gift for slicing and dicing his fellow-man (or enemies as they were called in those days just as they are today) so naturally when the Israelites were having some problems with the strong-smelling Ammonites (pronounced Ammonia-ites) they followed the trail of blood to Jeff’s house and asked him to be the captain of their armies to kill the Ammonia-ites because the odor wafting from them was giving them all tension headaches. (This is way before migraines were invented.)

Jeff  Makes a Really Dumb Vow

So Jeff  said sure but only under one condition. He would make a vow to the Lord that when he successfully returned from slaughtering the Ammonia-ites, the first person to come out of Jeff’s house to welcome him home would be burned alive as a sacrifice to the Lord.

Then Jeff went into battle with the Ammonia-ites and the Lord made sure Jeff won because the smell was giving Him tension headaches too.

Let the Smoting begin!

After smoting everybody and their goat — up one side and down the other, Jeff was totally smoted out and returned to his house in Mizpah Estates a new housing development in Tob.

Well, the door flies open and out runs his darling little daughter joyfully playing her little timbre which was an instrument exactly like a modern-day tambourine only spelled more stupidly.

Oh Drat the Lucketh!

Jeff was totally broken-hearted when he saw his daughter run out of the house first.  He was so hoping it would have been his mother-in-law. Jeff's daughter problem

Jeff has a heart to heart with his beloved daughter, Whatshername

But because Jeff was a man of valor, he sat down with his daughter and pulled out his standard-issued  “So Your Father Is Going To Sacrifice You To The Lord” scroll, and they had a nice long, father-daughter chat about her upcoming demise.

Jeff began by telling his daughter the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears only in Jeff’s version  — instead of Goldilocks running away and never being seen or heard of  again, Goldilocks’ Dad burns her alive as a sacrifice to the Lord.

Okay, Daddy, sure, when you put it like that . . . 

After that, Jeff’s daughter was totally on-board with the sacrifice thingy. She asked her father if it would be okay if she went on a two-month slumber party first with her girlfriends in the mountains so they could eat smores and weep over her lost youth and lift each other up with just one of their fingers and mourn for the children who would never be hers and roast marshmallows and grieve that she must die a virgin and take turns telling ghost stories.

Phew!

Jeff agreed immediately.   He was  hugely relieved that his daughter was taking the sacrifice thingy so well and promised to buy her some really cute pajama robes to take with her!

The Actual Sacrifice Thingy

Two months later,  Jeff burned alive his only daughter, little whatshername, as an offering to the Lord.

The bible doesn’t mention whether or not the Lord expressed any appreciation, but then again, the sacrifice of Jeff’s daughter wasn’t even the Lord’s idea in the first place.  Turns out, it was just one of those big biblical misunderstandings that were always happening back then.

Until next time . . . I love you

Jeff's Sacrificing Party

The Vegetable Lady Answers Some Questions

Dear Readers!  What a treat we have in store for us today!  The Vegetable Lady has been kind enough to stop by the blog and answer some of our most pressing vegetable questions!

A picture of a lady with a big toothy Grin Linda Vernon Humor
The Vegetable Lady will answer some questions

Our first question, Vegetable Lady, comes to us from  Reader, Phillip Flep, who asks: what is your favorite way to prepare tomatoes?

Tomatoes?  Golly Jeepers whenever I think of tomatoes, I always think of Christmas because that’s when Daddy, before he got lost at sea, would bring in a big platter of tomatoes, graham crackers and chocolate and  Mommy would set the Christmas tree on fire, and we’d make Smores!

Before Daddy bit into his, he would always say  “If I never see you again I love you,” but Golly Jeepers!  Mother and I could never figure out if he was talking to us or to the Smores.

This next question comes to us from Reader, Agamemnon Applebee, who asks: What’s the best way to get peas out of their pods?

Golly Jeepers it took Mother and I so long to figure that out!  Right after Daddy got lost at sea, we were awfully impoverished, so we had to live off peas until Mother and I  joined the circus.

Golly Jeepers!  It wasn’t easy to figure out how to get peas out of their pods until one day Mother borrowed a microscope and found out there was a teeny-tiny zipper in each pod!  Golly Jeepers!  I finally had time to get back to my sword swallowing practice after we found that out!

Our last question comes from Reader, Toots Tubaleeno, who asks:  What’s the best way to roast corn on the cob?

Well, after Mother and I joined the circus, Mother started roasting all our corn on the cob by positioning the cob between her teeth while  performing her flame juggling routine!  Golly Jeepers that was some good corn!

One night Mother set her beard on fire, which totally ruined her moonlighting job as the bearded lady in the freak show.  But Golly Jeepers! Mother sure went out on a lot more dates after that.

So let’s get this straight, Vegetable Lady, you’re telling us that your father was lost at sea, you set your Christmas Tree on fire every year to roast tomato smores, your mother is a bearded flame juggler and you swallow swords in your spare time?

Golly Jeepers!  When you put it that way it does sound a little strange.  I forgot to explain that I never swallow swords that don’t have a carrot stuck to the end!   Oh I’m so glad I remembered to add that!  Golly Jeepers! You would have thought I was pretty weird!

Well thank you for answering some questions for us today Vegetable Lady!

drawing by Linda Vernon Humor of the vegetable lady

Golly Jeepers!  You’re welcome!

* * *

Until next time, I love you

Some Common Sense Tips

Hello Dear Readers.  I thought it might be helpful to post a short list  of common sense tips that my brain, Peanuts, just thought of.

Don’t worry about your spleen.  Nobody ever said on their death-bed, “I wish I would have worried about my spleen.”

 "Let's see, 101 signs your spleen might be malfunctioning . . ."
“Let’s see . . . 101 signs your spleen might be malfunctioning . . . oh I need to read these! “

If someone in your family is set on becoming a human cannonball, keep a mirror and a helmet handy so you can show them how stupid they will look to others.

Slit your car tires every night before you go to bed so that when you wake up in the morning there won’t be any flat tire surprises.

Did you remember to slit the tires?No, it's your turn, I did it last night!
Did you remember to slit the tires?
No, it’s your turn, I did it last night!

Never allow anyone to act out the poem Lizzie Borden Took an Ax on family fun night unless you are absolutely certain the ax is inaccessible and there’s no liquor in the house.

Always test out your  “experimental arsenic cookies” on the hamster first, and be sure he’s actually dead before going to all the trouble of serving them to in-laws.

"Maury? . . . Maury? Can you hear me Maury?"

“Maury? . . . Maury? Can you hear me Maury?”

Always keep a copy of Robert Rules of Order on you at all times to avoid the embarrassment of walking up to take the witness stand in a crowded courtroom when it’s not your turn.

Never engage in a conversation with a chatty robot before you know the location of their off switch.  (The same holds true for husbands.)

"Yes. it. is. a. nice. day. There. have been 17823 days. very. similar. to. a. day. like. today. in. the. past. 100. years. starting. with. a. Thursday. on. April. 17. 1912. and. then. again. on . . . "
“Yes. it. is. a. nice. day. There. have. been. 17823. days. very. similar. to. a. day. like. today. in. the. past. 1400. years. starting. with. a. Thursday. on. April. 17. 1035. and. then. on. . . “

Just make it a policy to never operate on friends. Period. End of story.

Listen Marge, it's not that I don't want to take out your spleen, it's just that you're a friend of mine and I have this policy . . . sorry . . . .
Listen Marge, it’s not that I don’t want to remove your spleen, it’s just that you’re a friend of mine and I have this policy . . . sorry but period end of story.

Until next time . . . I love you

Egg Wars

Two Eggs with boxing gloves fighting

Good news!  I finally found out why the chicken crossed the road but I’ll tell you later.

I went grocery shopping yesterday to pick up a few items. 

I didn’t have a list.  I haven’t made a grocery list for 30 years. I used to religiously make a list when I first started out my career as a semi-professional food gatherer, but then one day, I overheard a mom say she never made a list, just went to the store and winged it using nothing but her ordinary, everyday memory.

Never made a grocery list? 

Could it actually be possible to go to the grocery store and not make a list and still come home with everything one needed? This was a revelation!   I don’t remember the lady’s name who uttered these words that changed my life (a tiny bit), but I do remember her daughter’s name was Astrid.  I volunteered that year to help out in the kindergarten gym class.  And I’ll tell you what; it was well worth the two-hour weekly commitment just to hear the gym teacher call her Asteroid.

Anyway, I never made a list again which explains why I currently have four cartons of eggs in my refrigerator for just the two of us.

You see, one of the downsides of not making a list is buying too much of one thing.  Peanuts, my brain, gets fixated on a certain food stuff and every time we go to the store, Peanuts reminds me that we need it. Currently Peanut is on an egg kick.

Peanuts is quite convincing, I must say.  After much bandying about, a decision is finally made that it’s better to err on the side of too many eggs than not enough.

Awhile back, Peanuts was on a salt fixation.  Suffice it to say, we now have enough salt to last until Armageddon.

But getting back to why the chicken crossed the road, have you noticed what’s going on with eggs lately? 

It’s like the Ritz Carlton competing with The Four Seasons.  Egg brands are making bigger and better claims about how wonderfully their hens are being treated as they go about the business of laying those eggs.

Case in point:

Emma’s Comfort Coup is the less expensive brand.  “Our hens live in more spacious accommodations” is their motto.  They’re not actually letting the hens out of their cages, sure, but they are giving them a king-sized nest with a roomy sitting area, their own bathroom, no doubt, and breathtaking vista of the other coups, plus room service for every meal, I’ll bet.  So these hens are doing alright.  Oh, and they have an official looking seal that says they are American Humane Certified –which actually means a lot to me considering I don’t actually  know what it means.

Ok, but Emma’s little Comfort Coop operation is the slums compared to these guys:

In the world of chickens, these are the lucky ducks!

Cages?  Forget about it.  These hens don’t need no stinkin’ cages because the whole world is their stinkin’ cage. Sure these eggs are going to cost you a little more but that’s because Egg Lands Best Luxury Hotel and Spa offers their chicken clientele the run of the entire poultry estate. And what an estate it is.  Swimming pools! Movie stars! They are running free in the sunshine; a gentle breeze blowing softly through their fine feathered faces!  Here there are no worries. The chickens that live and lay here have obviously done something right in a previous life.

Plus, these hens of the upper echelons are vegetarian fed.  No grinding up of things that aren’t vegetables for them.  No siree!  They’ll get some form of vegetables or they’ll get nothing at all.

All that is required of these birds is that they lay and lay around!

So why did the chicken cross the road?  Why to get to the better accommodations of course!

Until next time . . . I love you

Remodeling Slightly Creepy Seventies Style

Welcome Dear Readers!  Good News!  You are just in time for our Slightly Creepy Seventies Fix, where we look at pictures from the seventies that make us shudder and feel slightly sick to our stomachs because they are so weird and creepy.

It’s the kind of perverse pleasure only the Slightly Creepy Seventies can provide!

Today we’ll be making fun of this treasure from 1970:

Creepy Seventies commentary Linda Vernon Humor
Creepy and Weird Seventies Remodeling Book

“Well, honey, I like the new Seventies kitchen remodel, sure, but where will we put our books?”

Strange seventies remodeling ideas
“I’m so glad father made this bookshelf under the counter only accessible to six-year-olds . . . ah! Here it is, sis, that book I was telling you about, Atlas Shrugged.

Nothing epitomized a Seventies carefree childhood like a random ladder to nowhere.

Inexplicable 70's decor
“Come on Bobby! Climb up, it’s fun!”
“Shut up Robbie! You know people with peg legs can’t climb ladders.”

And no Seventies bathroom remodel worth it’s weight in Mr. T gold chains was complete without a primitive seventies tanning bed.

Seventies woman in distress tanning
“Honey! HELP!
“What’s the matter now?”
“I’m fused to the tanning bed!”
“Again?”

And of course, every Seventies remodel had to feature a pool made out of horrendous “bricks of the seventies!”

Seventies pool bricks
“Please go in swimming with me, Morris.”
“Forget about it, lady, cats hate to swim.”
“But we put in this pool just for you, Morris!”
“Cry me a river, Mrs. Schmuckerson.”

“How very Frank Lloyd Wrong of you, Dear!”

Hey honey! Look what I built while you were away at your plant-hanger macrame symposium! An outdoor brick stairway into the living room! And remember that placenta we saved from our last kid? I made that into a placenta floral arrangement for the coffee table! How do you like it honey? Honey where are you going?
I don't know . . . but I'm never coming back.
I don’t know . . . but I’m walking out of the Slightly Creepy Seventies and I’m never coming back.

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Ten Writing Prompts for Unusual Stories

Ten  Writing Prompts for Unusual Stories

1)

Terts Spattly, a limo washer for the Dallas Cowboys falls in love with a girl sports reporter who needs a transplant for her heart, a transplant for her liver and a transplant for her Rhododendron plant that’s been crowding out the petunias in her front yard. Choose your favorite historical figure from whom these organs will be harvested — but only after the historical figure is done transplanting the Rhododendron.

2)  

Write a story about why there is no writing prompt in this space.  Include the number 2 in your story at your own peril.

3)

Imagine that an alien named, Fats, lives in the tree outside your bedroom window.  Every morning, after telling you what to wear and what to eat for breakfast,  Fats slaps you in the face.  One day you decide to shoot Fats in the head.  Write a courtroom drama about being sued by the Area 51.

4)

Write a scene wherein a woman is flattened by a steamroller.  Use only  the words, “Sputnik” and “harpsichord.” (If you find this too difficult go ahead and  throw in the phrases, “Oy Vey” and “They call me Mister Tibbs!”)

5)

Your main character, Huh McWart, sneezes and both his glass eyes pop out. Write a story about how he manages to located them after two-weeks of living off nothing but a bottle of Mazola oil and one Cheeto (abnormally large) while he systematically  searches for them by feeling every square inch of his apartment with his toes — starting in the master bedroom.

6)

A 19th-century Chinese peasant named Wang Lung Lung Lung walks 1400 miles to ask Lang Lung-Lung to marry him. She accepts.  Write a documentary  about how Lang Lung-Lung who is now Lang Lung-Lung Lung Lung Lung and her husband Wang Lung Lung Lung  give up smoking.  Do not include the word “lung” in the story.

7)

A woman named, Lucy,  is married to a Cuban bandleader, Ricky, who has a very bad temper.  Lucy spends too much money on a dress making her Cuban bandleader husband, Ricky, furious.  Write a humorous story about how Lucy manages to calm Ricky down just seconds before he beats her to a pulp.

8) 

Imagine you have the super power of smell.  Write a short story about who and what you would smell from the perspective of the smell itself and then never speak of it again.

9)

Write a play about a woman who is too shy to go outside so she sits behind her computer and writes stories about another woman who is too shy to go outside  so she sits behind her computer and writes stories about  another woman who is addicted to hydrogenated palm oil glyceride.

10)

Write a novel about a stapler.  Print it out.  Rip it into a million little pieces. Glue it back together. Write a poem about what just happened.

And there you have it Dear Readers!  Linda’s ten writing prompts for unusual stories.  Happy writing!

Until next time . . . I love you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bible According to Gregory: Fred and The Bears

Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of the Bible According to Gregory.  Let’s listen in and see what Gregory learned in Sunday school this morning, shall we?

Gregory of the Bible According to Gregory Linda Vernon Humor

Fred and The Bears

As you may remember from last week’s bible lesson, Gregory was learning about Elisha (pronounced Fred).

Fred  had just inherited the All in One Miracle Cloak from his idol, Elijah, who thew it to him from  the whirlwind God had sent for Elijah to take him up to heaven.

Biblical Fig Juice Stains

The cloak did wonders for Fred’s self-esteem.  It gave him the power to perform miracles,  it brought out the hazel in his eyes, and it even dimmed the shine of his very bald head!

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Horrible Artist’s rendering of what Fred might have looked like.

But the men of Jericho thought Fred’s story about Elijah being whisked off up to heaven in a whirlwind was a bit sketchy.

Jericho Man:  Hi Fred. nice cloak.   Say, have you seen Elijah anywhere?

Fred:  Uh, Elijah . . . uh . . . well,  he’s on a permanent vacation.

Jericho Man:  Oh how nice!  Where?

Fred:  Heaven.

Jericho Man:  You mean he died?

Fred:  Not exactly.  The Lord picked him up in a Whirlwind and took him to heaven while he was still alive.

Jericho Man:  I’m sorry, but I have trouble believing that because the Lord doesn’t travel in a whirlwind, he travels in a cloud.

Fred:  Are you implying I don’t know the difference between a cloud and a whirlwind?

Jericho Man:  Okay I’m bored.   Hey listen, Fred, since you’re the new miracle guy in town, would you mind doing something about the source of our drinking water.  It tastes like Shiite.

Fred:  Not a problem, I can fix that.  Bring me a new jar and put salt in it.

Jericho man:  But won’t that just mask the flavor?

Fred raised his I’m-the-new-miracle-guy-in-town-aren’t- I? eyebrow and the man ran off to fetch Fred a jar of salt.

Fred threw the salt into the Shiite water and everybody watched while he took a sip and pronounced that the water tasted as good as  Alhambra.  And everybody rejoiced by laughing at the way Fred pronounced Abraham.

Fred takes being called “baldy” badly.

After that Fred left Jericho to travel to Bethel as he had some early blankmas shopping he wanted to do. (This was way before Jesus was born.)

On the way there, he encountered a group of boys who started making fun of Fred’s bald head.

“Get out of here baldy!” they all shouted.

Which was the very worst thing you could call a person in biblical days not counting  Unleavened- Pizza- Crust – Face.

So Fred cursed the boys in the name of the Lord and two she-bears came out of the woods and tore the 42 boys to pieces which must have taken a while — long enough for Fred to get out his slab and chisel and chisel 42 hash marks.

Prologue:

After that, Fred traveled on to Mount Carmel, where he  bought everybody on his list a  box of carmels.

He came back by way of Samaria and gifted an extra box he accidentally bought  to a Samaritan who lived there and wished him Merry Blankmas!

And that’s why to this day, if someone buys an extra box of carmels and gives it to someone who lives in Sameria,  they are called a Good Samaritan.

And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday School.  Be sure to check back  next week to see what new and exciting thing Gregory learns in Sunday School.

Disaster-Being-eaten-Bear-eating-Viking1
“So you’re wearing that funny hat because 42 boys called you “Baldy”?
“Yeah.”
“You want I should maul them?”
“Yeah.”

Until next time . . . I love you

Talking Edgar Allan Poe In Off The Ledge

We all love Edgar Allan Poe, it’s just that sometimes he tends to get a bit carried away!  Oh great, here he comes. Now whatever you do, please, please don’t get him started on Annabel Lee . . . too late!  Now you’ve gone and done it!

“What?  Did somebody say Annabel Lee?  It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea . . . “

Just for future reference, Edgar, saying many and many is the same thing as saying many – I know you’re into writing so I thought I’d pass that along.

“That a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee”

No, I don’t know her, but I have heard of her.

“And this maiden she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me”

Uh . . . OOOKAAY . . .

“I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea”

Really?  Google says you were 27 and she was 14, but nevermind, keep going.

“But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee”

Shouldn’t it be: “My Annabel Lee and I”?

“And this was the reason that long ago in this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel Lee”

So you’re telling me the wind was jealous of you and Annabel Lee?  Oh something’s blowing alright, Edgar, but I’d have to say it probably involves smoke, a skirt and the direction of up — if you know what I mean.

“So that her high-born kinsmen came and bore her away from me”

Uh, I have a feeling those high-born kinsmen were her parents, and  if they were smart, they  didn’t let her play with you anymore.

“To shut her up in a sepulchre, in the kingdom by the sea”

Hold on a sec while I google sepulcher  . . . Let’s see . . . it say s a small room or monument where a dead person is laid . . . WHAT?  Am I missing something here?

“That the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee”

Hold on!  Whoa!   OK, I don’t like the direction this is going in.  I’m calling your psychiatrist.

“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”

It’s too late to be all cheery now, just  get in the car, Edgar.

“Oh, the beautiful, Annabel Lee; and the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee and so all the night tide, I lay down by the tide  . . .”

Yeah sure, Edgar.  You just keeeep telling yourself that.   Watch your head . . . that’s right. What’s that Edgar?  Where are we going?  We’re just going for a drive, Edgar . . . it’ll be fun!

“Oh my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, in the sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea . . .”

Listen, Edgar, why don’t I see if I can find a happy song on the radio . . . until we get there . . . not that we’re going to the Institute . . . no-no, we’re just going wherever the jealous wind blows us. . . it’ll be fun!

The Tragically Beautiful Annabel Lee!

 

And there you have it, Dear Readers,  yet another futile attempt by this blog to cheer up literature’s most gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe.

Until next time . . . I love you

Baby Boomer Junk Mail

Hello Dear Readers!  Gosh it’s a beautiful day.  Okay let’s talk about death now.

Here’s something that came in the mail today from the Trident Society:

Trident Society Linda Vernon Humor
The Trident Society wants dibs on your “vessel”

Apparently the Trident Society isn’t really a Society at all.  It’s just a nice way of saying we’re a company that turns a profit cremating dead people.  I don’t think there’s regular meetings or anything.  It’s simply that they are asking for dibs on cremating you after you die, but they want you to pay them for it right now.

Apparently there are lots and lots and lots of wonderful  reasons why you need to  pre-purchase your funeral pyre.  Let’s take a closer look at what they are, shall we?

Trident Society Commentary Linda Vernon Humor

The first reason for being cremated is convenience.

If you pay for your cremation now, perhaps when you die, one of your  family members (whoever gets the shortest straw) can simply go to a Trident Society drive-thru window, pick up your ashes and set you on the book shelf until the next family reunion — where you will be lovingly lugged along and incorporated into the prayer before the potluck lunch is served.  Upside:  It’s convenient as all get out.  Downside:  Alive or dead, you’ll have to attend the next family reunion.

Cremation is much less expensive and has less impact on the environment!

Now how can anybody say no to cheap and easy?  It’s cheap AND it’s better for the environment.  Downside:  You had to pay for it yourself. Upside:  Hey!! Lookee you!  You’re recyclable!

It allows families to provide a dignified resting place to memorialize their loved one. 

What is the Trident Society trying to imply?  Are they trying to  imply that your current plan — to give great, great grandaddy, Trevor, the ol’ heave ho on your next Carnival Cruise — isn’t a dignified enough resting place?  Upside:  Oh yeah!  Downside:  Just watch you!

And finally, Dear Readers, if the above reasons aren’t enough to convince you that you need to pre-purchase your cremation, Trident Society is pulling out all the stops by allowing you to enter for a chance to WIN a FREE CREMATION!

Win a free cremation! Linda Vernon Humor

Sufferin’ Succotash!  Look how happy everybody is in the picture!  Well, there’s nothing like winning a FREE CREMATION to make everyone want to play a rousing game of Ring Around the Rosy!

Until next time . . . I love you

A Guy Named Ted’s 1991 Yearbook!

We all remember the somewhat-iffy glory days of  our semi-beloved junior high school!   

Some of us adored it and some of us hated it. Apparently, Ted, whose yearbook I found on the shelves of my local thrift store, fits into the latter catagory. 

So pull your hair into a side pony tail and twist your hat backwards and let’s take a little trip to Junior High 1991 courtesy of Ted:

Now here’s a student who, even though he tried valiantly NOT to listen during Language Arts class, accidentally absorbed a few nuggets of wisdom.

Not only do I give him kudos for remembering two of the eight parts of speech, but he even threw in “vowel” as well as the rarest type of letter in the alphabet, “the consant.”

I’m also giving him extra points for mentioning the  “prep prase”  which I’m guessing is any prepositional phrase that is complimentary.

Apparently this same kid was also in Ted’s History class.

Now here’s a category they didn’t have when I was in Junior High:

Not to be confused with:

And of course, what yearbook would be complete without fun photo doctoring:

Everybody had a Jr. High math teacher named Mr. Flem (or should have):

And finally:

The eternally effervescent P.E. teacher, Mrs. Miller, leaves Ted with these parting words:

“Ted, you’ve got  a great personality.  Keep things in the right perspective OK?

Ted!  You gotta love him, don’t you?

Until next time . . . I love you