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

Gregory’s Bible Stories: Adam Takes a Wife Please

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

Every Sunday Gregory attends Sunday school and every Sunday he comes home and retells what he learned.  

Today Gregory learned about how God created Adam and Eve.

Linda Vernon Humor, the bible according to gregory, humorous bible stories

 

 

Adam Takes a Wife Please

When Adam lived alone in the garden of Eden, the Lord noticed that Adam wasn’t doing so well.  First of all, the garden was a mess.  There were banana peels and watermelon rinds and half-eaten figs piled everywhere. Even though it was Adam’s job to be the guardian of the garden, he kept forgetting to water the plants and the last time he had actually mowed the lawn was never.

Most of the time all Adam wanted to do was sit in a big pile of leaves and stare straight ahead imagining how much better his life would be if God would create two teams of men who dressed up in cool outfits and tackled each other.

Then the Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to live alone. I will make a suitable companion to help him.”

And Adam rubbed his hands together and thought, “Hot Diggity Dog!”

But when God took some soil and started forming animals and birds, Adam’s smile quickly faded.

God:  What’s the matter Adam?  Don’t you like the animals I’m creating?  Lookee this one!  It’s got fur, a bill and webbed feet!  Isn’t it hilarious?

Adam:  Meh . . .

God:  Ah come on, Sport!  Cheer up!  I’m going to let you name them all.

Adam: But I don’t want to name all those stupid animals you’re creating.  That’s just another chore.  I never have any fun.

God:  Uh oh . . . I know a man who got up on the wrong side of the ground this morning.

Adam:  Stop making that joke, Dad, it’s not funny.

God:  Okay, but try taking another look at this animal with the bill and the fur and the webbed feet and just try to keep a straight face!

Later

God:   . . . and so this last one you want to call a Walrus?  How do you want to spell that?  With two r’s?

Adam:  You know what, Dad?  I hate to break it to you, but not one of the birds or animals you created is a suitable companion for me.

God:  What?  Not even the goldfish with their bubbly little smiles?

Adam:  No Dad.

God:  But why not?

Adam:  They can’t talk, they can’t cook, and they wouldn’t know a decorative pillow if their life depended on it.

God:  Oh I see what you’re getting at.  Here swallow this.

Adam:  What is it?

God:  Nyquil.

About an hour later Adam opened his eyes and Eve was standing before him.

God:  Welp.  What do ya think?

Adam:  At last here is one of my own kind.  Bone taken from my bone and flesh from my flesh.  Woman is her name because she is taken out of man. Thanks Dad.

God:  No problem.

Adam:  Oh and Dad?

God:  Yeah?

Adam:  Before you go, how would you feel about creating two teams of men in really cool outfits, an oblong ball made out of pigskin — because I know you just created those pigs– I was thinking maybe it would be fun to watch them try to keep the ball from each other and whatnot.

God:  But while you’re watching them do that what will Eve be doing?

Adam:  Oh I don’t know.  She could be walking  in the garden, making new friends, sampling fruit . . .

God:  That sounds harmless enough.  I’ll do it!

Adam:  Hot diggity dog!

And there you have it Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday School.  Please check back next week to find out what he will learn next.

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Eve gives Adam a decorative Pillow
“Here honey, I made this for you.”     “Thanks!  What is it?       “A decorative pillow.”

 

 

 

 

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

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.

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Until next time . . . I love you