Tag: funny

Celebrating a year of somewhat questionable writing advice

image Welcome to a special Anniversary Edition of Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing! It was a year ago this week that the first edition of my weekly NWOW was completely overlooked heralded by Writer’s Digest as “A literary hazard cone…” and by Publisher’s Weekly as “Our measuring stick for excellent writing, if we were on the metric system.” As if that weren’t enough, I received a congratulatory email this morning from The Master of Horror® Stephen King:

I consider myself an expert on corpses, so you can believe me when I say your body of work speaks for itself.”

High praise indeed.

But enough accolades! It’s time to prepare yourself. Why? Because in just a few moments I will push the button on a special remote, releasing balloons and confetti on you! That’s right! While you were sleeping, special crews (most of which were licensed, bonded and documented citizens) were busy installing compartments of spring-loaded balloons and confetti in your ceiling! And you thought it was creepy rats! Haha! So count down with me as we prepare to release balloons and confetti on 3,432 folks, some of whom don’t read this blog regularly and will be totally freaked out! Continue reading Celebrating a year of somewhat questionable writing advice

… This Just In …

image

…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…

[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our newsroom…]

Being a journalist at a small newspaper means, in addition to writing stories and taking photos, you also layout and build the pages. And clean the toilets. But for purposes of this post, we’ll stick to this afternoon’s page-building incident, which began when I made a “filler ad” to take up a tiny space on the page too small for anything else… Continue reading … This Just In …

Caught on video: Proof of why I’ll never be a pole dancer

image The three elements of a “Perfect Storm” came together here on the Oregon coast today:

Extremely strong winds
Heavy rain
My weak acrobatic skills.

This is always a dangerous combination. Especially when my family suggests I do something funny, like pretend the wind is lifting me off the ground. Under normal circumstance — such as sitting on the couch, completely dry and nowhere near a pole — this would not have been a problem. But as we made our way through the school parking lot fighting the wind and rain, the third element of this Perfect Storm scenario developed.

“Honey, you should do that pole thing where you lift your legs up like it’s windy,” my wife suggested. “I’ll get a picture!”
“But it really IS windy,” I replied.”
“Exactly! It’ll look even funnier!”
Naturally, my response was what you’d expect from a 47-year-old man with limited health coverage.

“OKAY!”

After taking the above photo, we all had a good laugh. Then my loving wife suggested we take it up a notch. “Hey, let’s do a video of it!” Continue reading Caught on video: Proof of why I’ll never be a pole dancer

Online banking: Bringing Zimbabwe and Snakegut, Alabama closer together

(It’s time for this week’s Flashback Sunday, when step into our time-travel machine, buckle up, jettison ourselves into the past, but not before someone realizes they really should’ve used the restroom first…)

Red necks It’s not every day that I receive an email from a Zimbabwean prince who needs help relocating $20 million into an American bank account as soon as possible. In fact, in the last five years, I’ve only received this letter maybe 18 times. In each case, the letter explains that I’ve been chosen because I’m reputed to be a “dependable and trustworthy” person.

Given that this letter is always addressed to Dear Sir or Madam, I can only assume that my reputation is in fact so great that I no longer need an actual name.

Either that, or I’m not the only person to receive this letter.

Each time I’ve gotten this e-mail, I’ve deleted it because, let’s be honest: Who wants to spend time figuring out how to access their online bank account? I have no intention of adding to that headache (or potential jail time) by making a cross-continental transfer of millions of dollars from Zimbabwe.

Besides, having our checking account suddenly jump to over $20 million — I think — would look a little suspicious.

I’m sorry Mr. Hickson, but you don’t have money in your account to cover…Oh, wait a minute. Scratch that. Will this bagel be everything? Continue reading Online banking: Bringing Zimbabwe and Snakegut, Alabama closer together

Hello: My name isn’t Larry

(If your New Year’s resolution was to not miss a single Flashback Sunday post in 2014, CONGRATULATIONS! You are well on your way, with only 51 flashbacks to go! If, however, your goal was to start working out each morning but, instead, have decided to “adjust” that goal by having coffee in bed while reading this week’s flashback, CONGRATULATIONS ANYWAY! While others are getting sweaty, hungry and staring at someone’s sweaty backside in step aerobics, you are comfy and caffeinated. Who’s 2014 is off to a better start?)

why-hire-a-contractor-1 copy There are three things I know about “Larry.”

He is a contractor; he lives somewhere in Multnomah County; and he has the same cell phone number that I do.

The calls started about a month ago, presumably about the time “Larry” got his contractor’s license and began making bids. Since then, he has been a busy man, picking up jobs and making sure that his clients know they can call him any time. Day or night. For any reason at all.

Which they do — to my cell phone.

The Hansons, for example, call whenever they change their mind about what color tile to use around the bidet in their new bathroom. For the Gilmores, deciding between cedar shakes or aluminum siding requires at least one consultation a day. And the Reyboulds are still contemplating the ripple effect of kitchen cabinets without knobs. Mrs. Reybould thinks knobs would make their kitchen look more inviting; Mr. Reybould believes not having knobs would stymie their 2-year-old and keep him out of the cabinets for at least another year. Continue reading Hello: My name isn’t Larry

Another random moment from “The Box” of unclaimed photos

The Box: home to old, unidentified photos that have remained unclaimed. Probably for good reason.
The Box, home to old, unidentified photos that have remained unclaimed. Probably for good reason.
Last week, we said goodbye to our weekly feature The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) and introduced The Box: a collection of odd, unidentified photos which — just like many items in our break room refrigerator — have remained unclaimed for 10 years or more. Each week, I will utilize my journalistic training, combined with the full extent of our 1980s computer technology, to explain the circumstance surrounding a randomly chosen photo from The Box. This random selection process is achieved by me quietly dumping the photos onto the floor and then, just as quietly, releasing a wild, blindfolded squirrel into the newsroom. The photo nearest the first reporter to scream is the winner!

I have to say, the selection process went extremely well for this first edition of The Box.

(In an entirely unrelated matter, if anyone is interested we are seeking a new intern.)

Now, let’s get to this week’s photo… Continue reading Another random moment from “The Box” of unclaimed photos

Suffering from postal identity crisis on… The Door

The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance): Sentinel of journalistic history and guardian of our commode since 1971.
The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance): Sentinel of journalistic history and guardian of our commode since 1971.
For the moment, the government shutdown has offered a reprieve from the constant media attention The Door in our newsroom has been receiving. The fax machine is silent, which we assume is because Morley Safer has been re-assigned to the capitol instead of faxing threatening images of his rear with the words “You Will, Crack!” scrawled across the top. Likewise, it’s been 24 hours since Keith Morrison or Geraldo Rivera have made an attempt to enter the building in disguise — the last of which was actually done together, when they pretended to be Russian circus clowns seeking asylum in our newsroom. Once again our front office girl, Misty, blew their cover, growing suspicious when “Geraldy the Clown” kept asking her if she wanted to “see Al Capone’s vault some time.”

While things are quiet here at Siuslaw News for now, it’s only a matter of time before the governmental play date between the democrats and republicans ends, and media interest in The Door resumes. First-time readers of this weekly feature are probably asking, “What IS The Door?” and “Why would there be so much interest in it?” and perhaps the most frequently asked question: “How did I even get ON this site?” Continue reading Suffering from postal identity crisis on… The Door

… This Just In …

image

…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…

[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our news room…]

Editor: “Is THIS all we have for obits? Just one tiny paragraph?!? How are we supposed to fill today’s news hole?!?”

Me: “Hey, you want me to go out and kill some people? Haha!”

Editor: *long, creepy silence…*

Best gumbo west of the south was almost good enough for first place

image So when the chef’s aprons finally hit the floor at the end of yesterday’s firefighter cook-off, and I realized why I’d been feeling a draft all day, our team finished second with our chicken and sausage gumbo. The host team from Newport, with it’s briquet chili, took the top prize. I didn’t get a chance taste it, but it must’ve been amazing in order to beat out the Best Gumbo West of the South.

Our chicken and sausage gumbo, with dirty rice. How dirty? It wouldn't get a "G" rating, let's put it that way.
Our chicken and sausage gumbo, with dirty rice. How dirty? It wouldn’t get a “G” rating, let’s put it that way.
Rumor has it the reason the judging ran late was because they were trying to decide between our gumbo and Newport’s chili.

I think it’s also possible that, after eating both dishes, they went out for beers to counteract the spiciness.

Our team, Greg and Arda Stober, along with my wife and I. Our clear display boxes had small strobe lights covered in red and yellow tissue paper to look like flames. That's just how cool we are.
Our team, Greg and Arda Stober, along with my wife and I. Our clear display boxes had small strobe lights covered in red and yellow tissue paper to look like flames. That’s just how cool we are.
Either way, I couldn’t be more proud of our team, which included my lovely wife, and fellow firefighters Greg and Arda Stober. We also had support from Janet and Annette, who made the trip from our Florence fire station to show their support by attempting to sabotage Newport’s chili with pieces of chopped up fire boot insoles.

Nice try, girls. Continue reading Best gumbo west of the south was almost good enough for first place

More tools for thought… or food for your toolbox… or something like that

(According to my blogging friend Ross Murray, who lives on the edge of a sink hole in Canada, my weekly Nickels’s Worth on Writing is actually worth 8 cents over there thanks to the exchange rate. Which sounds great at first, and potentially like a good reason to move there since I could increase the net worth of my writing by nearly 50 percent! That was until Ross explained how, because of international law and a complicated revenue formula involving the metric system, it actually meant I owe Canadians three cents every time they read my NWOW. Because I have a lot of readers in Canada, this could add up to… uh… if I understand Canadian currency correctly… about 100 centimeters every week. For this reason, my Nickel’s Worth on Writing is now called “Ned’s Duty-Free Thoughts on Writing, Eh?” in Canada. My thanks to Ross for the heads-up on this before anyone at the IRS found out…)

image In one of my first columns at Gliterary Girl, I talked about three of the most important tools a writer wields when it comes to establishing their voice. Does anyone remember what they were?

Anyone under the age of 40 who still has a fully-functional memory?

Yes! You in the back with the “Nouns of the Baskerville” T-shirt.

Um… No. I’m sorry. Cuervo was not one of them.

Anyone else?

Yes, you — the one waving your hands enthusiastically!

Sure, the restroom is down the hall to the left, next to the drinking fountain. And yes, the reason the water gurgles when someone flushes is because it’s the same water. Help yourself, but we’re not waiting for you. Continue reading More tools for thought… or food for your toolbox… or something like that