Tag: humor

I’m spending time in Arkansas today and it’s all Jolene’s fault

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Regular visitors to this blog know two things about me. 1) as a rule I generally stay off the Interwebs on weekends, and 2) I avoid pink almost as much as I avoid anything to do with Justin Bieber. And for the record, Justin Bieber wearing pink is the first sign of my own personal apocolypse.

But today is special. Today I am Jolene’s guest at Valley Girl Gone Country, where I’m joining Ben’s Bitter Blog, Fat Bottom Girl, The Bestie, Cover Reveals and Wyndy Dee this week while Jolene is away. I’m not entirely sure Jolene knows about this. But we all have keys to her blog, so that’s good enough for me. It’s going to be a fun week, so I hope you’ll stop in today and each day! Plus, we could use your help cleaning up… Here’s the link! Valley Girl Gone Country

Want to keep your writing fresh? Start with regular flossing

image I’d like to thank the American Dental Association for sponsoring this week’s writing tip, which brings me to a startling statistic: 4-out-of-5 dentists have never recommended or even heard of this blog. The fifth dentist only heard about it when, moments after my lips went numb, I was trying to say “Ben Roethlisberger’s lob” and he thought I said “Ned’s worthless blog.” Regardless, there are many similarities between keeping a fresh feeling to your writing and avoiding gingivitis. So think of me as your “literary orthodontist” as I take you through a quick writer’s check-up.

(Please remember I don’t have a saliva vacuum…)

Flossing:
A good dentist will tell you it’s important to floss between meals, and will demonstrate its importance by flossing for you during your visit. That’s unless he also happens to be your proctologist, in which case I’d like to welcome you to the new National Health Care Plan. Continue reading Want to keep your writing fresh? Start with regular flossing

This is 29 seconds neither my cat or I will ever get back

I realize many of you have to come expect very high-brow, sophisticated posts here. In fact, it is often referred to as “the thinking man’s humor blog.” Maybe not in so many words, but I know what people are getting at when they comment: “Farting is so FUNNY!”

But today’s post is a deviation (see the kind of vocabulary I’m talking about?) from the regular. It is a short exploritory video that, in fact, expresses that I have my occasional moments of irregularity.

It might also explain why our cat sometimes poops in my shoes…

Please don’t judge me.

(I actually meant the cat.)

Learning to accept your dog’s snoring problem could save your life

image At three o’clock this morning I propped myself up on my elbows, removed my ear plugs, looked directly at our dog and delivered the following ultimatum:

This has to STOP!

My wife turned to me and quietly said I’d need to speak up if I wanted to be heard over the dog’s snoring. Admittedly, it was my bright idea to have Stanley sleep in our room. That’s because, when he was a puppy, he was prone to chew up things we might leave out overnight.

Such as the living room or kitchen.

However, at nine years old, his snoring now sounds like a 250-pound man sleeping-off a three-day bender. Part of Stanley’s problem is genetics. Being half Shar-pei, he has a lot of loose skin and wrinkles. He essentially looks like a chocolate Labrador in need of ironing. In desperation, we took him to the vet, who told us that the loose skin around his face causes him to snore.

I’m not sure why he told us this, but I think there’s a good chance Stanley has the same problem. Continue reading Learning to accept your dog’s snoring problem could save your life

How I used pink wrapping paper to improve my son’s memory

My youngest son is 15, athletic and highly driven. He is also developing the need for a personal assistant to remind him about — or bring him — things he forgets on an almost-daily basis. When he texted me this morning asking if I could bring his baseball cap, which he needed in order to play in the game — and which he needed sometime in the next 20 minutes before the team bus left — I snapped my phone closed, sat back in my chair and exclaimed “I’m becoming Pepper Potts!”

Oddly, this did not raise a single eyebrow in our newsroom. Continue reading How I used pink wrapping paper to improve my son’s memory

Sometimes, investigative journalism calls for a wild squirrel

After getting the blindfold on Tippy the wild squirrel last week, I've decided it's just easier to leave it on.
After getting the blindfold on Skippy the wild squirrel last week, I’ve decided it’s just easier to leave it on.
RELEASE THE SQUIRREL!

I realize it’s April Fool’s Day, but this is no joke. The retrospective of The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) in our newsroom has come to an end. But by request, we’ll be spending Wednesdays during April looking back at The Box (Of Weird Unclaimed Photos) in our newsroom with Skippy the Wild, Blindfolded Squirrel.

For those who are unfamiliar with this past weekly feature, or who, after reading this introduction, feel they might be having a stroke, let me explain.

The Box is a collection of odd, unidentified photos which — just like many items in our break-room refrigerator — have remained unclaimed for 10 years or more. Utilizing my journalistic training, combined with the full extent of our 1980s computer technology, I attempt 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 Skippy the Wild, Blindfolded Squirrel into the newsroom. The photo nearest the first reporter to scream or get bitten (possibly both) is the winner! Continue reading Sometimes, investigative journalism calls for a wild squirrel

Sharing my secrets to incredible, two-word acting

image Some of you may have noticed I’ve been a little remiss on my blog this week. And while not having our three teens at home during spring break is partially responsible (do I really need to explain?), it’s also because I’ve been preparing for my role in our local production of Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize winning play, “Our Town,” in which I play the coveted role of the complex character known as “Angry Farmer.”

As my friend, blogger and internationally-acclaimed thespian (he lives in Canada) Ross Murray can tell you, emersing yourself in such a pivotal, two-word performance is emotionally exhausting. However, it was all worth it when I overheard our director describe my portrayal of “Angry Farmer” to the rest of the cast as “Ned’s role of a lifetime. I promise. Even if we all have to change our phone numbers.”

Given that kind of endoursement for my natural acting ability, I felt obligated to share some of my secrets with other thespians with this short how-to video: Ned’s Secrets to Incredible Acting

As I mentioned in the video, the final shows are this weekend. So if you happen to be on the central Oregon coast, I hope you’ll stop in to see my portrayal of “Angry Farmer.” One of our directors, Jennifer Connor, told me my performance is “unforgivable.”

I’m sure she meant “unforgettable,” but I know she’s been under a lot of stress…

Science links obesity to fat, lazy microbes

(Today, I’m posting from the Long Awkward Pause science desk, which I believe gets its name from the fact that it’s also our lunch table — where there are globs of unidentified organisms…)

image Scientists at Cornell University have created a device capable of measuring the weight of a single cell. This is big news because it moves us beyond the limits of sub-gram measurements “nano,” “pico” and “femto,” and into an exciting new realm of measurements known as “zeppo,” “harpo” and “groucho.” This could eventually lead to the smallest and least-known unit of measure, “chico.”

Many of you are probably wondering how useful this information really is when it seems most things — cars, houses, Americans in general — are actually getting bigger. Personally, I see no benefit in being able to describe my weight as “a little over 70 trillion harpo-grams.”

Nor do I want to be around when my wife discovers, after eating that extra helping of potato salad this July Fourth, that she not only gained back the 17 trillion zeppo-grams she’d lost, but also put on an extra two billion grouchos. It doesn’t matter that all of this adds up to less than a single uncooked lima bean. What matters is that I make the potato salad, and will therefore be held responsible. (More at LAP)

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Keith Morrison, Barbara Walters and others continue to seek… The Door

The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) is both sentinel of sacred journalistic history, and protector of commode users.
The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) is both sentinel of sacred journalistic history, and protector of commode users.
Since last week’s posting of The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance), I have received hundreds of emails from concerned readers asking if we followed up on the tip about a potential murderer staying at a local hotel, which was brought in by a woman who said she heard “murdering noises” from the room above her — and as our office girl Misty noted: “I think she was hearing them again while standing in our office lobby.”

As it turns out, all 358 emails were from NBC Dateline’s Keith Morrison who, like countless other television correspondents, is seeking an exclusive to The Door in our newsroom. It was actually Misty who made the realization that Morrison was behind all the emails when, while checking our general voicemail box, she heard the message: Just checking to see if you got all the eeeemails I sent. This is an anonymous call by the wayyyyy.

“Hey,” said Misty, “isn’t that the creepy guy from Dateline Mysteries?”

So as it stands, The Door remains safe from Morrison, as well as Barbara Walters, Geraldo Rivera, Morley Safer and Anderson Cooper, each of whom has taken a crack at getting the exclusive to what Diane Sawyer described as “An awe-inspiring body of journalism… which reminds me, where’s Chris Cuomo?” Continue reading Keith Morrison, Barbara Walters and others continue to seek… The Door

Five days without cranky teenagers at home (Can I get a Halleluja?)

image They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. With that in mind, the thought of our three teenagers being gone for most of spring break makes us love them beyond words. In fact, the only way we could love them more is if they each found jobs and an apartment while they were gone.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that we don’t enjoy spending time with our kids. Of COURSE we do! What kind of parents would we be if we didn’t enjoy the lighthearted banter we share each day, such as when I say:

“You need to wash your plate.”

And without skipping a beat, they reply:

“You’re ruining my entire LIFE!”

Ha! Ha! That’s why they are called “kids!” Not because they are like stubborn baby goats who, given the chance, will run horns-first into your knee caps. No! It’s because they’re kidders! So who are we, as parents, to selfishly deny them from spreading that kind of joy to others for five whole days during spring break? Continue reading Five days without cranky teenagers at home (Can I get a Halleluja?)