Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Toddler Property Laws

You may have seen these before, but they are so laughably accurate it makes me smile.

1) If I like it, it's mine.
2) If it's in my hand, it's mine.
3) If I can take it from you, it's mine.
4) If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
5) If it's mine, it must never appear in any way to be yours.
6) If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
7) If it looks like mine, it's mine.
8) If I saw it first, it's mine.
9) If you play with it and put it down, it's mine.
1) If it's broken, it's yours.

As a mother of four, a grandma and a great-grandma, I can attest that these are still true!

Friday, May 10, 2013

An offbeat salute to Mother's Day

I clipped this cartoon from the newspaper many years ago because it made me laugh. Dick Guindon's cartoons appeared regularly in the Minneapolis Star Tribune until he retired in 2005. I still miss them.


Friday, March 8, 2013

Friday funnies

Once in a while, you see a cartoon that makes you laugh out loud. Van Amerongen's Ballard Street always has a quirky assortment of older folks who never fail to amuse. Here is another funny one.

                                                                                                                    

Monday, July 2, 2012

My version of a funny joke

This is a joke I heard years ago that really made me laugh hard. I have taken the liberty of embellishing it with childhood memories of the "olden days".

The ten-party-line telephone on the kitchen wall of the farm house rang. Ma was at the wood burning cookstove stirring a pot of stew for dinner. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the oven where six loaves of bread were baking. She wiped her hands on her homemade flour-sack apron as she rushed to answer. Her heart was pounding from the jarring sound as the phone rang again--one long and two short.

She grabbed the hanging ear piece, held it against her ear as she leaned into the mouthpiece and shouted "Hello?" She had to listen carefully to the faint voice on the other end of the line.  There were clicks as other people on the party line picked up the phone to "rubber neck". 


She ignored the eavesdroppers since she often listened in on neighbor's phone calls when she heard their distinctive ring tones. This was partly out of concern that there was an emergency so it wasn't considered more than a little nosy. Ma shouted "Hello" into the phone again to get the caller to speak louder.

It was her brother-in-law, Al calling from town. "Helen, is Arnie around?"

"No, he's out in the field on the tractor." Al's voice was more serious than usual, so she asked, " Is something wrong?"

"Well, we got a call from the Old-Folks Home and Grandpa died this morning. We wanted to let you guys know. So, we all gotta get together and plan the funeral, don'cha know. So, you have Arnie give me a call when he gets in from the field, OK?" 

"Yah, OK Al."

Little four-year-old Jimmy, wakened from his nap by the phone, came walking into the kitchen. He stood there in his stocking feet and bib overalls and announced, "I'm hungry."

Ma picked up the little boy and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She sat him down on top of two Sears Roebuck catalogs stacked on a chair and slid him up to the big round table with a kerosene lantern suspended over it. She stepped into the side pantry and grabbed a jar of homemade applesauce off the shelf. She unscrewed the heavy zinc-coated lid and put a dollop into Jimmy's favorite Mickey Mouse bowl . He dived right in.


Later, Arnie came in for his noon meal. When Helen told him about Al's call, he took the news of his father's death stoically. The old man had been failing for a long time so it was expected. They talked about how to tell the three kids when they got home from school. Little Jimmy sat wide-eyed, soaking in all the conversation about Grandpa.

When the family sometimes went to visit the old man at the Home, he liked to put Jimmy on his knee. Grandpa delighted in holding his pocket watch against the little boy's ear and watching as he listened intently to the ticking. The visits were usually short because Jimmy's three older siblings would get restless.

The confused little Jimmy finally asked about what happened to Grandpa. Helen and Arnie lovingly explained how God wanted Grandpa to come and live up in heaven with him so God took Grandpa away and that's why he died.

The afternoon was hectic with phone calls and making the arrangements. When 3:30 rolled around, nobody noticed the school bus stop at the end of lane except Jimmy. He saw his three siblings came trudging up to the house. He burst out through the kitchen door with excitement and ran toward them yelling, "Guess what, you guys? God killed Grandpa!"

Monday, June 4, 2012

Of raccoons, squirrels and churches

I recently saw a TV documentary about raccoons. It mentioned a big problem in Japan with the imported animals nesting in ancient wooden temples. The raccoons were sold as pets after a children's cartoon show about a baby raccoon became popular. The animals were turned loose as adults, and being as resourceful as they are, they multiplied and took up residence in the attics of the temples. Their scratches and urine are causing great damage to irreplaceable buildings.


(Now, here is a joke that was emailed to me recently about squirrels in churches.)

A small town had four churches--Presbyterian, Methodist, Catholic and Baptist.

All four had a serious problem with squirrels in the church. Each church in its own fashion had a meeting to deal with the problem.

The Presbyterians decided that it was predestined that squirrels be in the church and that they would just have to live with them.

The Methodists decided they should deal with the squirrels lovingly in the style of Charles Wesley. They humanely trapped them and released them in a park at the edge of town. Within 3 days, they were all back in the church.

The Catholics also humanely trapped them and attempted to teach them the "rhythm" method to prevent them from breeding which of course did not work.

The Baptists had the best solution. They voted the squirrels in as members. Now they only see them at Christmas and Easter.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Funnies Friday


My daughter turned me on to the Pickles comic strip. She said it reminded her of my folks (her grandparents). I just enjoy the humor.

I caught a commercial the other day that made me laugh my head off. OK--this husband and wife are sitting in the front row of a lecture or church service. The man leans over and asks the woman in a whisper if she has any lip balm because his lips are dry. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a cosmetic bag that she silently hands to him. Without taking his eyes off the speaker, he reaches in, grabs a tube and proceeds to spread the stuff liberally over his lips. Then, he sits back contented with bright red lipstick smeared all over his mouth.

It was the funniest thing I've seen in ages! Now every time I see someone applying Chapstick, I think of the man with the lipstick and I chuckle.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Here it comes again!!

Stores have been playing Christmas music for over a month already. The decorations have been up for ages and merchandise is so blatantly displayed you practically stumble over it.

Is anyone else as fed up with this "In Your Face" marketing of the shopaholic holiday as I am?

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Drunken Punkins




My cousin emailed this to me.
It's topical, if not funny.

There's so little time left to
display Jack-o-lanterns.

(FYI I don't drink.)

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Having a Halloween Party? You simply MUST serve Kitty Litter Cake!

OK, I know the idea seems outrageous, but I found the recipe in the paper several years ago and passed it around at work. Everybody got a big bang out of it. So, at the risk of offending someone, here is the recipe:

KITTY LITTER CAKE

1 Box spice cake mix
1 Box white cake mix
2 small pkg instant vanilla pudding
1 12-oz pkg vanilla wafer cookies, crushed
6 to 10 regular-size Tootsie Rolls
Powdered sugar
Green food coloring
Method:
Prepare 2 cakes and pudding according to package directions. When cooled, crumble cakes into a brand new kitty litter pan. Then add the pudding and mix. Take 1 cup of the cookie crumbs and add a few drops of green food coloring and set aside. Mix the remaining cookie crumbs into the pan. Next, soften the Tootsie Rolls in the microwave for 10 seconds and shape to resemble droppings. Arrange them on top of the litter pan and sprinkle with the green cookie crumbs. Then sprinkle on a little powdered sugar. Serve with a brand new pooper scooper.
Serves 20 to 24.

(I've never made this myself, but with all that good stuff in it, how could it be bad!)

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

My friend, Garrison Keillor


I read online today that my dear friend, Garrison Keillor, is in the Mayo Clinic where he's being treated for a minor stroke. They say he should be OK and back to work pretty soon. Now I admit that he doesn't know who I am, but nevertheless he is a very dear friend of mine.

When I was a kid, I always thought that Minnesotans were the most bland, average people in the country. We didn't have any exceptional ways about us and we talked plain--not with exotic accents like the people from New York or the South. We didn't put on airs when it came to cooking or fashion. We traded hotdish (casserole to non-Minnesotans) recipes and dressed from the Montgomery Ward catalog.

But then, Garrison Keillor took a step back and took a good look at Minnesotans and noticed that we were sorta different in a folksy way. And don'cha know, we slowly became just a little bit more special as a result.

In 1987, Howard Mohr, one of the writers for Garrison's Prairie Home Companion radio show, published a book called How to Talk Minnesotan--A Visitor's Guide. I laughed out loud as I read the humorous bits about how my folks, relatives and other Minnesotans all talked. I remained smugly certain that I do not have an accent, however--at least not like the folks in the movie Fargo.

It has been such fun listening to Garrison Keillor's shows. I love the warmth and gentle humor and the fact that there is something just a little bit extraordinary about being from Minnesota.
So be well, Dear Friend!

Friday, September 4, 2009

Harkening back to my childhood (again)

Today's Pickles comic struck a note with me. As kids, my three siblings and I weren't allowed to say naughty words like Heck or Darn. In fact, we couldn't even say Butt. The buttock area was referred to as the Seater. (I found this to be quite confusing because Mom had a cedar chest).

Since we were average kids, however, the prohibition on cussing didn't stop us from talking trash to each other. We got away with Stinkpot, Snot, Dumbbell, Dope and Big Baby.

In those days, going to the bathroom was either Number 1 or Number 2. The word Pee--as in urinate--and the word Body--as in naked--were very edgy language in our young minds. Incredibly, there was a character on the Fibber McGee and Molly radio show named Mr. Peabody! We happily incorporated this into our lexicon of alternative cussing. As a result, our escalating cuss-progression became:
  1. Dummy!
  2. DUMB-DOPE!
  3. DUMB-DOPE PEABODY!!

This was the worst possible thing we could call a sibling. The offended child might well respond with, "I'm gonna tell Mom!" Fortunately, Mom was oblivious to the foul-mouthed implications of Peabody, so we still got away with it.

My parents' "expletives" were equally mild. Mom, being of Norwegian descent, would often say Ufta (oops) or Ishta (gross). She was also fond of using Ofers, as in: "Oh for dumb" or "Oh for cute!" Her favorite expressions were, "Oh, for Pete's sake!" and "Hon-est-ly!"

Dad would poke fun at Mom by doodling pictures of goofy-looking guys and labeling them Pete or Honest Lee. Dad's cussing consisted of, "Holy Smut!", "Son of a Gun", "Blame it!" or "Bunch of Hooey."

It seems rather sad that we have become much coarser people over the decades. And, it makes you wonder--where the heck will it all end?!!

Friday, August 7, 2009

Fighting gravity


A gal's gotta do, what a gal's gotta do! Hope you get a laugh outta this.