Tag: humor

Men: time is runing out if you want to avoid being a love dunce

As a public service to men everywhere, I am hereby issuing the following announcement:

Love Dunce Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.

If you are married, have a girlfriend or, for reasons of your own, feel a need to continue the charade of dating a Swedish airline stewardess who is always out of town, it’s time to start planning something romantic. For those of you in the latter category, this will be easy since the only person you have to worry about pleasing is yourself.

And, yes — I plan to clarify that last statement immediately.

What I mean is that every male currently in a relationship with an actual living female could, by Feb. 15, all be dating the same fictitious Swedish airline stewardess should they fail to impress their Valentines. As a result, men everywhere are panicking because we know that impressing the women in our lives isn’t easy. We realize that you are complicated creatures who need more than a physical connection when it comes to romance; you also need an emotional outlet in order to feel satisfied.

We, on the other hand, just need an outlet located near the television. Continue reading Men: time is runing out if you want to avoid being a love dunce

Frozen lima beans: The gift that keeps on gagging

eating,_chewing,_nut,_teeth,_mouth copy It will have been more than 80 years ago next month since Clarence Birdseye, inspired by ancient food preservation methods used by Arctic Eskimos, made history by introducing the very first frozen food option: “Savory Caribou on a Stick.”

Though his first selection was met with little enthusiasm, Birdseye persisted, and eventually created a line of frozen vegetables that many of us are still gagging on today.

I, for one, am still unable to walk past lima beans in the frozen food section without getting the dry heaves. This reaction stems from my childhood, and a spoonful of lima beans I’ve been trying to swallow since 1973.

Unless you’ve been hermetically sealed and stuck in a freezer, you already know March is “National Frozen Food Month.” Coincidentally, I should mention this happens to fall in the same month as “National Ear Muff Day,” “Extraterrestrial Abduction Day” and “National Pig Day,” meaning that, for anyone whose pig happened to be wearing ear muffs at the time it was flash frozen by alien abductors, this is a big month for you. Continue reading Frozen lima beans: The gift that keeps on gagging

Grammy, Shmammy — LL Cool J’s got nothing on this cracker

versatileblogger111 Blog of the Year Award 1 star jpeg vinspiringblog You know how some days you wake up and, while half asleep, you head to the bathroom — but not before putting both feet in the same pant leg? And then after laying face down on the carpet for a few minutes, you realize your naked rear is sticking straight up because your feet are bound together like a rodeo calf? And in the moment is when the door opens and it’s your 18-year-old daughter, who begins screaming and scratching at her eyes because of what she’s witnessed?

OK, maybe it’s just me then.

Well, today didn’t start like that for me. Today was actually a morning of extremely pleasant momentum, which, in our house, usually means an empty bathroom (rare in a house with three teenagers) and a perfectly timed BM. In this case, however, it was pleasant momentum spurred by kudos from my fellow bloggers. After returning to the keyboard following two days of what CSI: Las Vegas would term “explosive flu blowback” [Insert rapid sequence through nasal passages here], I had a chance to go through my “Likes” and “Comments,” which led to a very humbling series of nods from fellow bloggers whose work I admire. Continue reading Grammy, Shmammy — LL Cool J’s got nothing on this cracker

A man’s guide to romantic cuisine—Step one: Insert beer into chicken cavity

cavemen-food-nutrition copy Men, by their very nature, are grillers of food. This is because grilling, aside from providing men with a legitimate excuse to drink beer and play with fire, is actually a sign of romance and affection dating back to the discovery of fire itself. We know this thanks to recently discovered cave paintings depicting what archeologists believe is a romantic meal prepared by a Neanderthal named Glork soon after the discovery of fire. According to archeologists, the sequence goes like this:

Painting one: Glork makes a small fire using a careful mixture of embers, dry leaves, and an assortment of twigs. He then douses it with liberal amounts of highly flammable liquid, creating a massive fireball that scorches the roof of his cave.

Painting two: Glork adds a marinated pterodactyl drumstick to the fire and begins drinking an unidentified beverage.

Paintings three through six: Glork continues drinking a lot more of his unidentified beverage.

Painting seven: Attempting to capture the attention of an attractive cavewoman, Glork uses the flaps of his animal skin to fan the aroma of dinner in her direction. In the process, he inadvertently exposes himself, leading to the creation of what archeologists believe is the very first “Kiss the Chef” apron. Continue reading A man’s guide to romantic cuisine—Step one: Insert beer into chicken cavity

Your space adventure awaits! And mine will just have to keep waiting

So you want to be an astronaut!

OK, neither do I. But suppose we did. And let’s suppose I didn’t routinely freak out anytime I’m launched higher than a pogo stick. Then we would all be very Civilian space flight excited about all the recent advancements in the area of private spaceflight. Even now, it is possible for us to take a “slingshot ride” to the edge of the atmosphere and back, providing adventurers like ourselves with a breathtaking view of the earth, a few minutes of weightlessness, and, hopefully, at least one change of underwear.

You’ll notice there are quotation marks around the phrase “slingshot ride,” which is the actual term one expert used in describing the flight so that people like me, with no aeronautic experience, could picture themselves being flung headfirst into the stratosphere by something resembling a giant jock strap.

This, of course, would never happen.

At least not in the U.S.

Thanks to the FAA, we can rest assured that any flight heading into the cosmos will first have to meet the same rigorous federal safety standards set by The Jetsons 50 years ago. Knowing this, spaceflight entrepreneurs have spared no expense in designing flight packages cool enough to justify the $98,000 per-person price tag, which includes a disposable flight suit and wacky souvenir vomit bag that reads: Sack launch. Continue reading Your space adventure awaits! And mine will just have to keep waiting

Cold snap puts freeze on taking out trash in your underwear

Trash run It’s not often that it gets really cold here along the Oregon coast. And by REALLY COLD, I mean cold enough to warrant using an ice scraper. Now, to someone from Michigan or Maine — where an ice scraper is a six-ton piece of diesel-driven steel with studded tires and a nine-foot scoop — scraping down my windshield with a four-inch piece of beveled plastic that has a smiley snowman on the handle wouldn’t exactly be called a winter crisis (On the East Coast, this is what is commonly known as “spring.”)

However, for us coastal Oregonians, who are kept reasonably warm by jet streams that push cold air to the north and allow naturally abundant hot air to make its way up from California, pulling out the ice scraper means it’s time to revisit some cold-weather-safety procedures. Continue reading Cold snap puts freeze on taking out trash in your underwear

Looking for excitement? Try feeding your arm to a catfish

Yes, that's me — the one INSIDE the catfish.
Yes, that’s me — the one INSIDE the catfish.
After living in the Deep South for 10 years, I occasionally feel a strong urge to return. When that happens, I just remind myself that as beautiful and historic and hospitable as the South is, it contains people who use themselves as bait for catfish that are roughly the size of an Airstream travel trailer. Generally speaking, these people are not intoxicated or medicated. Nor is there any evidence to support that they are the victims of mind-controlling aliens who have simply grown bored waiting for the invasion.

No. These folks WANT to hunt catfish by sticking their bare hands into underwater burrows, knowing full well it could be the hiding place of a cottonmouth, snapping turtle, or Dick Cheney. Continue reading Looking for excitement? Try feeding your arm to a catfish

There’s no shame admitting you haven’t seen Janet Jackson’s breast

What did I miss?! Though it’s been nearly a decade since the introduction of the phrase “wardrobe malfunction” to the world vernacular during the 2004 Super Bowl, the fact that I missed that historic broadcasting moment continues to be the subject of ridicule by several of my so-called friends.

As luck would have it, in the same instant that 90 million viewers were gawking at Janet Jackson’s breast, I was picking a tortilla chip off the floor. The sequence of events leading up to that fateful moment went as follows:

1) While watching Janet Jackson dance in a highly suggestive manner, Ned inadvertently steps on a tortilla chip.

2) Being a polite guest, he reaches down for the chip just as everyone in the room shouts “HER _ _ _ _ IS SHOWING!!”

3) In a panic, Ned tries to knock his fellow guests aside but, instead, falls forward and lodges his head between the couch and coffee table, spraining his neck. Continue reading There’s no shame admitting you haven’t seen Janet Jackson’s breast

Online banking: Bringing Zimbabwe and Snakegut, Alabama closer together

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

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