Ten Reasons Why You Might Be Feeling Fat

You have a tendency to eat breakfast four times.

The only equipment you keep in your home gym are a treadmill and a chocolate pie.

Your dog leads a scrap-less life.

a sad pug
“My owner sucks!”

You’ve traded in all your P’s and Q’s for M and M’s.

Trading post sign
“But I gave you ten P’s and Q’s and you only gave me seven M and M’s.”
“Listen, bub, nobody ever said life was fair.”

Your idea of the great outdoors is standing under the air conditioning vent at Mrs. Fields.

Your bathroom scales have filed assault and battery charges against you.

lady standing on bathroom scales
“If you don’t get off me right this second, lady, I’m calling the authorities!”

You only have 34 payments left on your last McDonald’s drive-thru.

McDonald's Mcdrive
“Are you ready to order?”
“No I’m just here to make a payment.”

Whenever you get tough and declare you’re going to lick something, it always turns out to be a Tootsie Roll Pop.

You brake for cake!

woman in an cheesy auto accident
“How’d it happen?”
“She was braking for cake.”

And the number one reason why you might be feeling fat:

You are fat.

 

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

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

Biblical Wrestle Mania

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

Biblical Wrestle Mania: Almighty God vs. Jacob the Ladder

Jacob was a twin who was born holding onto his  brother’s heel. Why anybody even noticed this is odd because Jacob’s twin brother, Esau (pronounced Achoo) was born entirely red and covered with fur.  A fact that Jacob’s parents were happy about because it meant they would never have any trouble telling them apart.

The twins’ mother, Rebekah, liked  Jacob best because she was partial to children who didn’t shed; while their dad, Isaac, liked Achoo best because he preferred children who could double as a comforter in a pinch.

 Jacob was a napper

One day, on his way to visit his relatives, Jacob  saw a nice, big, fluffy stone (which in those days was called a pillow) and lay down to take nap.  He dreamed God’s angels were going up and down on an escalator (which in those days was called a ladder).

Jacob's Ladder

In the dream, God told Jacob he was going to give him lots wives and kids and animals and slaves, which made Jacob so happy he told God he would kick back ten percent of his profits to Him.

When Jacob woke up from his dream, he consecrated his nice, big, fluffy rock pillow to God by pouring some consecrating oil on it which he always carried with him for impromptu consecratings.

One night, Jacob decided to take his family camping at the God Campgrounds down by the Jabbok River.  So Jacob’s two wives, two concubines and his eleven children all crammed into the family ox cart.  Jacob also brought along all his cattle, donkeys,  sheep,  goats, and slaves.  Jacob was a notorious over-packer.

An Angel Picks a Fight

That night Jacob realized it was going to be way to noisy to sleep so he sent his family and his animals and his slaves across the Jabbok river.  Then he fluffed up his rock and was just drifting off when an angel wearing a wrestling outfit showed up.

Jacob:  May I help you?

Angel:   I came to wrestle you.

Jacob:  Wrestle me? I haven’t wrestled since high school.

Angel:  You never forget how.  It’s like riding a bike.

Jacob:  Okay, give me a sec while I change into my wrestling garb.

Angel:  Why did you bring your wrestling garb if you haven’t wrestled since high school?

Jacob: I like to be prepared, okay?  You got a problem with that?

Angel:  Well besides being three-sizes too small,  your wrestling garb has consecrating oil stains all over it.  I’m going to have to wrestle you to the ground just because you look so stupid.

Jacob:  Oh yeah wing boy?  Bring it!

Jacob then proceeded to get the angel in a half-nelson and started plucking out his feathers. The angel immediately cried uncle but when Jacob let go, the Angel sucker punched Jacob and dislocated Jacob’s hip.  (The blow would have shattered Jacob’s hip if Jacob wouldn’t have been such a big believer in calcium supplements.)

"One two cha cha cha"
“One two cha cha cha”
“What are you doing? We’re supposed to be wrestling.”
“What? I can’t even have fun with it?”

Angel:  Okay okay you win, Jacob.  You can stop plucking out my feathers now!

Jacob:  Not until you bless me!

Angel:  I can only bless you if I change your name to Israel first.

Jacob:  Why?

Angel:  Because that’s my favorite name, but I also like Karen.  Would you rather be Karen?

Jacob:  Fine.  Call me Ishmael.

Angel:  You mean Israel?

Jacob:  Whatever.

After the match, Jacob realized that the angel he had just wrestled with was God, and that Jacob had seen the face of God and yet he was still alive! So Jacob decided to name the place upon which he and God had wrestled,  Peniel — which means “Thank God for Calcium Supplements.”

"What are you doing, Karen?" "Stetching. And don't call me Karen."
“What are you doing, Karen?”
“Stretching. And don’t call me Karen.”

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

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Let’s Poke Fun at Album Covers

Welcome Dear Readers!  Today, let’s do something we haven’t done in a while.  Let’s poke fun at albums covers!  Let’s start with this one:

William Holden the World of Suzie Wong

William Holden was a major movie star in the 50’s and 60’s and possibly even the 70’s.   I’m not much of a researcher as I prefer to make up my own facts to save time, but anyway my point is — William Holden can’t paint!

Notice how that outfit Suzie is wearing isn’t anything like the one Bill is painting?  (You don’t mind if I call him, Bill, do you?)  Also, Bill doesn’t look very committed to the task.  I have a feeling he’s holding a bottle of vodka in that hand we can’t see.  Don’t you think so, Bill? (You don’t mind if I call you Bill do you?)

I don’t know how William Holden died, but a long time ago, I remember seeing a sign in someone’s bathroom that said “William Holden Slipped Here.”  So I have a feeling his death was rather untoward.

Which is why we won’t go into it here, Bill,  as this is a humor blog, and, as such, steers clear of unpleasant topics unless it’s  laugh out loud funny like, say, the always popular topic of baby eating.  But I digest . . .

Oh and you can’t see it, Bill, but on the very top of this album in the  left right no left oh who cares corner,  it says this album was  recorded in “New Orthophonic” high fidelity.  Which I guess means it’s for people who have to wear shoes on their ears for medical reasons.  (Not really, I’m just making that up . . . at least I think I’m making it up . . .what do you think, Bill? )

Let’s move on to the super-cheery Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, shall we, Bill?

The Clancy Brothers

Okay, Bill, which one do you think is Tommy Makem?  They all look alike to me, Bill.  Do you think that maybe Tommy Makem is a Clancy half-brother?  Maybe he’s the brother nobody knew about until Tommy came a’knockin’ at the door one day with a big announcement?  A big announcement that . . . well  we won’t go into that unpleasantness here, Bill,  as this is supposed to be a humor blog and as such steers clear of topics about things like, say, the  illegitimate makin’ of  Tommy Makems.

Apparently, if one can believe the album blurb,  the Clancy Brothers are Irish. There’s no mention of what Tommy Makem is.  Who cares?  He’s really starting to get on The Clancy Brothers’  nerves anyway.  In fact, I think even though this album is called The First Hurrah!  I have a feeling it’s The Last Hurrah! for poor ol’  illegitimate half-brother, Tommy Makems, don’t you think Bill?

But, Bill,  let’s not worry about such things now, Let’s move on instead to An Hour of Tchaikovsky!

An Hour of Tchaikovsky

Okay, don’t look now, Bill, but this Tchaikovsky Groupie seems to have  her hand hopelessly stuck in her hairdo!  Naturally, she’s confused because she only used seven cans of  hairspray on her hair  —  when she usually applies 43! ( Apparently Tschaikovsky’s been getting into the hairspray cabinet again, what are we going to do with him, Bill?)

But not to worry, she is still managing to keep her composure.  How?  Well, thanks to the magic of eight gallons  of foundation and 3 pounds of eye shadow, three-quarters of a pound of lipstick and half a pound of potato salad.  No  wait . . . that was her lunch.

Okay, well as you can see, Bill, I’m starting to get confused. So I guess it’s just as well that we are  completely out of Album Cover, fun-poking time!  Gosh where does the time go? Where, Bill?  Where?

Until next time . . . I love you

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grownup Children #138

 

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

 

Another Attempt to Cheer up Edgar Allan Poe

Hello Dear Readers.  Sadly, it’s not always good times here at the blog.  Sometimes we have to take time out from our fun to try to cheer up America’s most celebrated crybaby creative writer,  Edgar Allan Poe.

 The Boo-hoo Boy, himself, Edgar Allen Poe
The Boo-hoo Boy, himself

So Edgar, what have you been up to lately?  I hear you thought up another good idea for a story.  Do you mind if I ask where the idea came from?

“It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived it haunted me day and night.”

Well,  don’t let this hurt your feelings Edgar, but your brain is freakishly large, so it probably catches a lot ideas, it’s casting a big net as it were.  But it doesn’t need to haunt you day and night, why don’t you go over to Nathaniel Hawthorn’s house and play Parcheesi. You had fun last time, didn’t you?

I loved the old man.  He had never wronged me.  He had never given me insult.  For his gold I had no desire.

Well, great!  It sounds like you and Nathaniel had a lot in common then, so what’s the problem?

I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture — a pale blue eye with a film over it.  Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold.

Well now listen, Edgar, everybody has their little idiosyncrasies.  Look at you with the freakishly large brain.  I bet Nat didn’t hold that against you?  You’d be happier if you were less judgmental.

I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, thus rid myself of the eye forever . . .

Ha ha Edgar!  That’s the spirit!  A little joking goes a long way to brightening up one’s mood!

But you should have seen me.  You should have seen how wisely I proceeded — with what caution — with what foresight — with what dissimulation I went to work.

Ha ha Edgar!   Oh I’m so glad you’re finally learning how to be a bit more playful.   And what a straight face you’re keeping too!

I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever  . . .

Ha ha ha!   I think you might have just stumbled upon your inner comedian, Edgar!

I turn the latch of his door and opened it — oh so gently! and then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head . . .

You mean because of your freakishly large brain?  ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha  . . . Oh I’m laughing so hard, Edgar, my sides are hurting . . .

It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed.

Ah hahahahaha!  Oh that funny melon head of yours!  Ha ha ha!

And I did this for seven long nights . . .

Look at you, Edgar!   I am so proud of you! I think you are actually cheered up this time.  In fact, let’s just cancel that cheering-up appointment for next Tuesday, shall we?

With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room.  He shrieked once — once only.  In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him . . . his eye would trouble me no more.

Okay, well, anyway, I gotta get going.  Nice chatting with you.

He was stone dead.  His eye would trouble me no more.

Oh. Well, as long as you’re feeling better, that’s the important thing, I guess.  But maybe we better keep that cheering-up appointment after all.   How does next Tuesday at 2:45 work for you?

Join us next Tuesday at 2:45 Dear Readers, when we will be continuing our ongoing effort to cheer up Edgar Allan Poe.

Until next time . . . I love you

Flipping Through The Slightly-Creepy Seventies

Welcome Dear Readers!  Today, if you’re not feeling a little nauseous already, I thought it might be fun to flip through this House Beautiful Magazine from everyone’s favorite icky decade:  The Slightly Creepy Seventies!

House Beautiful 1975
Isn’t this bedroom eye-crossingly wonderful? But it needs something more, don’t you think?  To really give it that Slightly Creepy Seventies flair? Like a focal point of some kind . . . 

But what kind of a focal point?  Hm. . . .

img228
Okay! That’s what the Slightly Creepy Seventies is talking about! Because there’s nothing like the addition of a weird, eerie male bedspread model to give any 70’s decor that much needed splash of slightly creepy!

Now let’s turn to the next page shall we?  Ready?  (I’ll wait if you want to pop a Pepto Bismal.)

Overly Cheerful Family Room slightly creepy seventies
Whoa! Obviously, the Slightly Creepy Seventies had the highest tolerance for decorative cheerfulness than all the other decades put together.

Now, this room is a good example of what happened back in the 70’s when your Slightly-Creepy Seventies Interior Decorator scarfed down a big bowl of yellow chrysanthemums and washed it down with a great big pitcher of ice-cold LSD for breakfast and then rushed over and redecorated your family room while in the throws of a cheerfulness overdose.

Actually, Cheerfulness Overdose was a common problem in the Slightly Creepy Seventies.  In fact, more interior decorators were buried with huge grins on their faces in the Slightly Creepy Seventies than any other decade in history!

So I guess you could say there’s an upside to everything.

Hey!  Look what awaits us on the next page . . . 

img232
  Yes, you’re seeing that correctly.  It’s a rocking chair on the beach. And why not?  After all, life in the Slightly Creepy Seventies was stranger than it’s ever been before or since.

And speaking of rocking chairs on the beach, I think I vaguely remember a Brady Bunch Episode involving a rocking chair/beach incident: I’ll try to retell it as best I can from memory:

Mike Brady: MarshaMarshaMarsha!  Peter! Greg! Cindy! and Whatever the rest of your names are!  We’ve driven 87 hours and we are finally at the beach!

MarshaMarshMarsha:  But Dad, we live somewhere in LA.  Why did it take us 87 hours to get here?  The Pacific Ocean is just down the street.

Mike Brady:  What? 

Carol Brady:  Oh Mike, you did it again. Hahahahahaha!  You turned left when you should have turned right!  Hahahahaha! We’re not at the Pacific Ocean, children, we’re at the Atlantic Ocean! Hahahahahaha!

Mike Brady:  Hahahahahahahahahaha!

Alice:  Hahahahahaha!  I’ll lug the rocking chair down to the beach while you Bradys wait in the car and laugh.

Carol Brady:  Hahahhahaha—

Alice:  Wait a minute!  Hold the landphone! The rocking chair’s not here!  Somebody forgot it!  I’m not one to point fingers but I think it was MarshaMarshaMarsha.

Mike Brady:  Well, kids, it looks like we’re turning around and driving 87 hours home to get it.  Hahahhahaha.

Carol Brady:  But wait Mike, you left MarshaMarshaMarsha at the Atlantic Ocean.

Mike Brady:  Hahahahhahahaha!

Carol Brady:  Hahahahahahaha!

Say now, this next item looks interesting. 

img235

Her name was Betty Knowles and she lost 4 pounds and 6 inches off her waist in only eight days back in the Slightly Creepy Seventies using this lever and pulley exercise contraption. Unfortunately, once  Betty got it all set up and herself situated inside of it, she could never figure out how to get out.   Eight days later Betty was not only  much, much slimmer, but also, she wasn’t wasting valuable time breathing or having a pulse anymore. Unfortunately she wasn’t found until last week about a quarter to five.

Sure, it was a sad Slightly Creepy Seventies demise for poor Betty Knowles, but the good news is she has been chosen as the main attraction at the Smithsonian Institute’s much anticipated upcoming exhibit:  Mummified Peoples of the Slightly Creepy Seventies.

Proving once again there’s an upside to everything!

Well, Dear Readers, that’s it for today.  If you need me I’ll be down at the Pacific Ocean.  I’ll be the one sitting in the rocking chair eating a big bowl of yellow chrysanthemums.

Until next time . . . I love you

A Message from The OMG Life Insurance Company

Dear Person Who Will Be Dying Sooner Rather Than Later,

Welp.  Looks like you’ll be dying soon.  But before you go, you might want to consider giving some money to us, The OMG Life Insurance Company.

Here at the OMG Life Insurance Company, we make it our personal business to pry into your personal business.  Why?  Because the facts are clear.  You ARE GOING TO DIE and when you do WE WANT TO MAKE SOME MONEY OFF IT.

YOUR ACCEPTANCE IS GUARANTEED!

That’s right. Absolutely everyone is accepted.  There are absolutely no medical questions to answer and no medical exams suffer through.   Why? Because here at OMG Life Insurance Company, we know for a fact that, sooner or later, come hell or high water,  you’re going to be deader than a door nail.

Here’s how it works: 

If you can fog a mirror, you qualify to send us monthly payments. Yes. It’s as simple as that.  You keep your promise to die and we’ll keep our promise to give back some of the money you gave us so that you’re loved ones can use it to figure out what to do with you once you’ve kicked the bucket.

Don’t Wait!  The Sooner you Apply, The Sooner You’ll Be Covered and The Sooner You Can Die.

Oh sure you might feel fine right now, but don’t let that stop you from enclosing your very first payment to us in the pre-paid postage envelope provided.  After all, if The OMG Life Insurance Company cares enough to spring for the postage the least  you could do is send us some money every month until you die.

The United OMG Life Insurance Company would love to take this opportunity to remind you that even though you feel just fine, you’re probably not as safe as you think you are and at any moment, you could die from any the following demises: 

The Demise of Sudden Spleen Seizure causing you to double over into a ball and roll out your second story bedroom window.

The Demise of a meteorite crashing through your roof causing you to become so startled you accidentally grab the hemlock creamer instead of the regular creamer for your coffee.

The Demise of Decorative-Bed-Throw-Pillow Suffocation where instead of sending us your premium, you use it to buy that last throw pillow that finally tipped the delicate air/bed pillow ratio needle to “uh oh!

The Demise of slipping on a banana peel causing you to fall and accidentally activate the homemade bomb you were carrying out to the dumpster

The Demise of avoiding getting run over by a drunken chimpanzee driving a stolen steam roller by diving in front of an oncoming bus

The Demise of Poinsettia consumption wherein you cannot! resist! eating! your! delicious! looking! Poinsettia! one! more! second!

The OMG Life Insurance Campany is imploring you to please fill out the form below and send it in the pre-paid postage envelope along with your first payment. Then oh so carefully walk it out to your mailbox.  (We recommend you sit on the couch and wear a helmet until your first payment clears.

OMG Life Insurance

If you have any questions log onto our website at pushin’updaisies.com where affordable coverage is just a few clicks away.

P.S.And remember! This is a no risk or obligation offer.  If you end up not dying, the OMG Life Insurance Company will give you a full, money back guarantee!

So what have you got to lose?  Apply today.

Irena Delphina Hot Diggity Dog

 

Irena Delphina Hot Diggity DogIrena Delphina Hot Diggity Dog

In the parlance of engines was merely a cog

 

In the gearshift of life she was quite unexciting

(She had nothing to do with, say, spark plugs igniting)

 

Her job was more blah, more boring, more simple

She was put on this earth to showcase her dimple

 

And stand on her tiptoes with arms stretched apart

While posing for drawings of horrible art

 

Oh if only the artist could draw her an ocean

She’d sit by the sea and imagine the motion

 

Or maybe the artist could draw her Mt. Zion

She could hike to the top with a leash on a lion

 

Is it any surprise that Irena’s not pompous

When the drawings of her are so catty and wampus?

 

Is it safe to assume that she’ll never be seen

Staring up from the pages of Vogue magazine?

 

Poor Irena Delphina Hot Diggity Dog

She’s destined forever to live in this blog

Once Again Trying to Cheer Up Edgar Allan Poe

edgar allan poe

 

 

Welcome Dear Readers!  As you may know from time to time this blog takes it upon itself to attempt to cheer up American Literature’s most Gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe. Join me, won’t you as we give it yet another try.

 

Hey Eddy!  What’s that you’ve got there?

the bells, bells, bells, bells,
                     Bells, bells, bells —

Oh well, that’s cheery!  Bells are kind of fun.  What is it you like about them?

  How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
                In the icy air of night !

Okay. Well, listen it’s a little cold out here in the icy air of night.  How about we go inside and you can tinkle your bells indoors.

  Hear the mellow wedding bells
                     Golden bells!

Okay are you talking about different bells than the ones you’re currently tinkling? Cause I can’t hear anything over all that tinkling, Edgar!

  To the swinging and the ringing

Of what?  The wedding bells?

  Of the bells,bells, bells,

Bells, yes,  I got that part.

      Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Yeah yeah yeah yeah!  Got it!

                    Bells, bells, bells –

Edgar stop saying bells!

  To the swinging and the ringing
                Of the bells, bells, bells,
      Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
                     Bells, bells, bells –

Okay, Edgar you’re about one second away from getting your face slapped.

  Hear the loud alarum bells —
                         Brazen bells !

Sorry, I don’t hear any alarum bells and I don’t mean to be critical but you spelled alarm wrong and it’s such an easy word, Ed, come on!

   Oh, the bells, bells, bells !
                  What a tale their terror tells
                         Of Despair !

Okay now this is exactly what I’m talking about, Ed.  Everything was going along fine.  You were tinkling some cheery little bells and like two seconds later all of a sudden it’s nothing but terror and Despair!  Can’t you just lighten up for like ten seconds?

  In the silence of the night,
       How we shiver with affright

Affright? Okay, now you’re just flat out making up negative words!  Why not turn that frown upside down and make up some cheery words! You’d feel a lot better about things. Do you know any cheery words?

  In a happy Runic rhyme,
                To the rolling of the bells –

Okay yeah!  There you go!  That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

   To the rolling of the bells —
            Of the bells, bells, bells —

EDGAR!  Stop saying bells!  I’m begging you!

      Of the bells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bells —

Okay Edgar, that’s it.  I’m getting out the duct tape.  It’s going over your mouth right now unless you promise me you will stop saying bells.

bells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bellsbells, bells, bells, bells —
                     Bells, bells, bells

Okay that does it, Buster!

Edgar Allan Poe Smiling

Well, at least he’s finally smiling.

 

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Moses and the Lord Get into a Tiff

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about what happened when the Lord made some Promised Land disclosures.

Let’s listen in as Gregory tells us how it all happened.

gregory Moses and The Lord Get Into a Tiff

One day, after Moses and his desert-wandering friends had been shuffling through the sands for 40 years, they suddenly found themselves at their final destination, the hill country of the Amorites and the greater Amorite area.

The Lord:  Welp, here you go Moses.  The land I promised to give to your ancestors and to their descendants.  Now go! Occupy! Enjoy!

Moses:  Excellent!  I’ll get everybody packed up and– wait a minute . . . did you say occupy?

The Lord:  Yeah why?

Moses:  But I was under the impression you promised The Promised Land to us because it was already vacant.

The Lord:  What do you mean vacant?

Moses:  Well I just assumed there wouldn’t already be thousands of people living in the Promised Land.

The Lord:  Oh I see what you’re saying.  No.  You’re going to have to kill everybody or conquer them and make them slaves and whatnot, unless you want to see if they’d be willing to have roommates.

Moses:  But don’t you see, it doesn’t really belong to us then.  I mean you promised us land that was already being used by other people.

The Lord:  Moses don’t bust my chops. I promised it!  It’s yours. Badda Bing Badda Boom! Now let me get back to my blocks.  Oh and  careful when you shut the door to my pillar of fire by night and pillar of cloud by day, huh?  You’ll knock over the really really tall block tower I just made.

Moses:  You’re playing with blocks?

The Lord:  Uh nooooo . . . it’s called creating?

Later a few feet outside the Promised Land:

Moses:  Okay, I just sent 12 of you guys to scope out The Promised Land, so what did you find?

Guy#01:  It’s got fabulous fruit!

Guy #02:  It’s fertile, but it’s filled with people who are a lot bigger and stronger than we are.

Guy#03:  And that’s not even taking into account the giants.

 Moses:  What?  Did you say . . . gulp . . . giants?

Guy#04:  Yes giants as in people who are mammoth? jumbo? colossal? humongous? elephantine? walloping? ginorm-

Moses:  Okay okay.  I know what a giant is.

Guy#04:  Well you just let me keep going on so I didn’t know.

Moses:  Okay listen up everybody. I’m going to go report to the Lord that everyone’s scared to go into the Promised Land.

Guy#05:  Uh . . . Couldn’t you just say we’re reluctant?

Guy#01:  Be sure to tell Him about the fruit!

Later at the Lord’s Pillar:

Moses:  Yoohoo! Knock knock knockin’ at heavens door . . . Are you there Lord?  It’s me, Moses.

The Lord: Yeah Moses come on in.  Hey lookee how high I got My block tower now!

Moses:  Hallelujah!  Praise You! Say listen, Lord, I just talked to the 12 guys I sent to scope out the promised land and—

The Lord:  Yeah I know. I overheard the whole conversation and I’m angry.

Moses:  How angry?

The Lord:  Well not angry enough to take My Almighty Hand and send My block tower crashing to the floor, but angry enough to forbid this evil generation from ever setting foot in the Promised Land. Except for one person.  What’s that guys name who liked the fruit?

Moses:  Caleb son of Jephunneh?

The Lord:  Yeah him.  He can go but no one else.

Moses:  Okay I’ll go tell them they can’t enter the Promised Land.

The Lord:  Oh and Moses?

Moses:  Yes?

The Lord: That includes you.

Moses:  What?  Me?  But that’s not fair.  After schlepping around the desert for 40-friggin’ years for no really good reason other than just cuz — this is the thanks I get?  I don’t know whether to scream or to cry.

The Lord:  Well, one thing’s for sure.  If you slam that door on your way out, and my block tower falls over, I’ll give you something to cry about, young man.

Moses:  I’m not young.  I’m 600-years-old.

The Lord:  Well, you don’t look it.

Moses:  Thanks.

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

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Caleb son of Jephunneh

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gregory’s Bible Stories: Hey Where’d You Come From?

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about what happened after Cain killed his brother and God forced him to run away from home. Let’s listen in, shall we?

Gregory's Bible StoriesCain Takes a Wife or Hey! Where’d You Come From?

After God kicked Cain out of Eden territory, Cain wandered around until he came to the land of Nod, known for it’s quiet motels.

After that Cain got married.  It was a pretty small wedding ceremony as Cain’s parents didn’t go because they were still mad at him for killing Abel and thought it was super unfair that if anybody killed Cain seven people would have to be killed –especially since, at that point, there were only three people on earth. (This was way before God created the calculator.)

Anyway,  if the bible knows where Cain’s wife came from it isn’t telling, but nevertheless, Cain and his wife soon had a bouncing baby boy, and they named the poor little thing Enoch.

Right away Cain started remodeling his tent, adding on a nursery and whatnot until next thing you know, Cain had added on an entire city which he also named Enoch which sometimes got confusing for them.

Mrs. Cain:  Honey have you seen Enoch?

Cain:  Have I seen it?  I built it!

Mrs. Cain:  No I mean Enoch, the baby.

Cain:  We have a baby?

Mrs. Cain:  Cain!!!

Cain: Ha ha just kidding, honey.

Mrs. Cain:  Well don’t be so cavalier.  He’s a pretty important little baby because as it stands right now there’s your mom and dad and you and me and the baby representing the entire human race.

Cain:  And we’re not even sure about you.

Mrs. Cain: Cain!!

Cain:  Ha ha just kidding, honey.

After that, Cain and his wife settled into a very quiet life in the land of Nod.  One day, Enoch got married.  (Apparently God had whipped up another batch of women while the bible wasn’t looking.)

For the next several generations, all anybody ever did was have kids and see who could come up with the most difficult names to pronounce, the uglier the better. There was Mehujael and Methushael and Lamech, and there was also a guy named Jubal who named his daughter a name not even liked by God, Zillah.

Soon the place was buzzing with people living in tents, tending livestock, learning to play harps and flutes and making all kinds of tools out of bronze and iron.  It was so noisy no one could hear anybody else calling their name — which was one of God’s biggest blessings thus far.

Right about this time Adam and Eve decided to have a third child whom they named Seth. (Adam and Eve had much better taste in names.) Seth which loosely translated means:  one who has many horribly named aunts and uncles, lived to be 807 years old, and spent most of that time addressing Christmas card envelopes.

But of all Cain’s descendants, it was Methuselah who really took the cake, living to be 969 years old, and tragically dying of birthday cake overdose.

Methusela's timely demise
Methuselah’s sad ending

Well there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned today in Sunday School today. Please check back next week for more of Gregory’s bible stories.

Until next time . . . I love you

Thank You Pottery Barn for Life Itself!

Are you living your life like wind-tossed lint?  Bouncing hither and yon at nature’s whim –never knowing the difference between up nor down nor side nor ways?

Well, Pottery Barn has a solution for that, Dear Reader, and it’s called:

The Pottery Barn Daily System

That’s right!  Pottery Barn and their “Daily System” has finally found a way to make keeping track of your family’s events a full time job!

Now, the first thing you do — using PB’s Daily System — is polish off a bottle of beer and a bottle of wine and then rinse them out and place them on their designated spots on the shelf (as pictured). Once that task has been completed,  you’re  going to be  in the mood to write something rather odd and crazy on the blackboard just like Pottery Barn did.

You could either copy PB and write “Summer Night Alive and Bright” or come up with your own drunken phrase.

And since the blackboard is at the tippy top of the Daily System, you will need to climb up on the desk (which Pottery Barn designed just for this purpose) and carefully . . . watch it now! . . . write on the blackboard.

  Of course, while you are up there, you might as well grab a couple of pens and pencils . . .  oh and don’t forget the scissors, grab those too, while you’re at it. (You never know!)

But do be careful don’t– whoops!  Did you fall down?  PB anticipated that might happen.  Hopefully the desk broke your fall and you can still read the family activities that have been written on the white board — because you might have to make some changes to those activities.

For instance, you’re probably going to have to skip the 4th of July celebration altogether, who knows if you will have regained feeling in your arms and legs by then — of course, Dad could ice your back for you if wasn’t traveling all week.  (Isn’t that always the way!)

And you’re probably going to have to  find a way to break it to Curtis that you can’t drive him to sailing lessons due to your being paralyzed and all. (But watch out! Curtis isn’t going to like it!)

And the Palmer dinner thing . . . well, if all that involved was Palmer eating a bowl of Mac and Cheese while conversing with you about Curtis’s sailing abilities while you lay paralyzed on the desk –then there’s  no need to cancel that one! YAY!

Ah! That Pottery Barn!  Always working around the clock to make your pathetic life better! You gotta love ’em!

Until next time . . . I love you

The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady Tackles the Drip Irrigation Guidelines

Hello Dear Readers!  Holy Cow!  Guess who’s here again today?  It seems The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady has agreed to edit some guidelines for us.

The Overly Creative Writer Lady

The Overly Creative Writer Lady would like us to take out our Drip Irrigation Guidelines and turn to the first page!

Page 1 of our Drip Irrigation System Guidelines

Let’s see how The Overly-Creative Writing Lady edits this sentence from the Drip Irrigation Guidelines:

“These drip emitters for shrub and trees provide full or partial pressure compensation.

The Maltese Drip Emitters

by

The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady

It was a Wednesday, wet, like Somebody Up There opened these drip emitters on a cloud that had more water in it than a dame’s eyes after finding out the Spanish shawl she just shelled out a hundred clams for went on sale, 50% off, the very next day.

The dame in question?  One Lola Richardson, a looker with a torso that, well . . . let’s just say a torso that would never be mistaken for shrubs and trees. 

Suddenly there was a knock on Lola’s door — a knock she knew better than the back of her hand which wasn’t saying much as Lola had never bothered looking at the back of her hand.

Lola ran through her tastefully decorated living room like a babbling brook seeking the mighty Missisip — past the grand piano, past the baby grand piano, past the regular piano, past the portable piano keys, past the Fisher-Price Kick and Play Piano until she reached the front door.

But should she open the door and let that bum of an ex-husband of hers Mickey Richardson, aka Mickey the Grim Reaper, aka Mickey the Infectious, aka Mickey the Mouse — if indeed it was he who was knocking — in?

Lola laid one of her voluptuous ears against the door to provide full or partial auditory discernment of the fist from whom the knocking emanated — but she was still uncertain.

So Lola put her other ear against the door, the one that was not quite as voluptuous (more like plain bordering on homely) but could actually hear. She pressed it harder and harder against the door until the pressure compensation allowed for the air-waves to finally penetrate it.

Yup.  It was Mickey Richardson alright.  So Lola opened the door and shot him until he was as dead as it gets.

Then Lola threw her Spanish shawl over his lifeless body and wept bitterly.  If only she could have gotten it for 50% off.

Lola's Spanish ShawlAnd there you have it, Dear Readers.  A word of caution — The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady is here for the duration of the week so you might want to steer clear of this blog. 

Until next time, The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady loves you