Category Archives: Humor

Creepy!

Note: I don’t wear sunglasses. Ever.

Yet, I saw these visor reflective ones and felt compelled to get one. I ordered them before my bowels tried to strangle me to death.

Whether it is by design or not, wearing them gives me the urge to carry a baton and/or skulk around in the periphery bushes of a random property.

Laughing, X

A Celebratory Coincidence

I’m going to celebrate an unusual life event…

I’ve been in this apartment for over a month.

Sadly, my first roll of toilet paper expired yesterday morning.
RIP, Roy.

I snapped a picture of the deceased roll yesterday.

In a cosmic coincidence, an Amazon driver just dropped off a relevant surprise gift from someone about ten minutes ago: a toilet timer!

I’m laughing.

I was going to coin a toilet paper joke, but they are all tearable.

A List of Posts…

The sun is about to set.

I’m trying to figure out why I didn’t put a rocking chair on the deck. Fall has its hands on my shoulders.

As I leaned against the railing, a hummingbird flew up to feed, less than two feet from my head. Another one swooped in, darting around, and hit the first one. It darted down and hit me in the chest and fell to the boards of my decking. I leaned down to pick it up before I had the inclination to wait. As I stood up and held it loosely, I spread my hand with fingers splayed. The hummingbird madly fluttered its wings and flew up. It did so within a foot of my face, and then turned and darted away.

I don’t have a tidy recap for the moment.

Love, X

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The above picture is not a typo. Look closer.

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I don’t have a house. Or a lawn. So why did I buy a lawnmower blade on Amazon? I’ve had a totally stupid but creative project on one of my lists for FIVE years. It is going to come to fruition. This is the kind of time and whimsy that fuels me. Even crazier, I’m wondering why someone hasn’t marketed my idea already. It is SO stupid that it would sell like hotcakes. Lord help us all.

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The above picture is one I drew at work years ago. A talented co-worker colored it in. He recently sent it to me.

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Though I took this picture when the sun might have greeted me, it’s a picture of a streetlight.

Regardless of whether it’s the sun or artificial light, the truth is that if it illuminates with the intensity of what you need, both can be true.

If you embrace a truth, though it might not be factual. your life will radiate your embrace.

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I don’t understand the appeal of having a pot to piss in.

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I tried to adopt a cat yesterday. The zookeeper got really angry and I also have a lot of claw marks on my buttocks now.

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I figured out the perfect way to avoid getting into a fight. Simply stop for a second and put on a bright red shade of lipstick.

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At this moment, I REALLY needed a joke, so I pulled one of the 700+ I have done from my draft folder…

A friend of mine had a breakup with his girlfriend.I looked at a picture of her. She’s a pretty woman with light hair.

I told him, “I guarantee that I can describe your frustration with the relationship and with how she is toward you – and probably make you laugh in the process.

“No, I don’t think you can, X.”

Here’s what I quipped:”Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Blonde.”

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This morning as I discarded things from the work fridge, I stopped and reread the scrawled words on top of the old vegetable platter: “… help yourself please for everyone.” Though the words were written with the intention to let everyone know that they should take what they wanted, I couldn’t help but realize that it was also metaphorical. The way I read it the second time: “Help yourself. Please. For everyone.”

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Usually, I enthusiastically jump out of bed. Wednesday punched me in the face this morning. I thought of this Douglas Adams quote as I stumbled around the living bedroom. (My hybrid name for mine.):“Many were increasingly of the opinion that they’d all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.”

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The Brian Law Of Guitar: You NEVER ask yourself if you SHOULD play the guitar or loudly; the question instead is for how long.

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If I were a gangster, I’d carry a clarinet in my hand everywhere I went. People would never see it coming, getting hit hard on the head with one of those. And, if played, probably causes just as much head pain as getting hit with it.

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Self-help and affirmations can be problematic: I asked a co-worker why she was eating 23 bags of Doritos.”My counselor told me to be the bigger person.”

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Since not all of y’all have a straight-talking ex-military handsome older man around you, I’m going to quote Clisson from this morning: “I ain’t got time for young girl problems with an older woman.”

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Family photos for the new apartment!

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Juan sped past me holding a suitcase.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Just running something past you.”

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The only complaint I have with the dealers in this area is that none of them take personal checks, PayPal, or Venmo.

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Someone pointed out to me that an arrow is basically a projectile knife. And I pointed out to them that both E’s in the word “pee” are silent – which is weird because the activity rarely is.

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Call me crazy, but I want to form a mariachi band, one in which everyone plays a banjo.

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I was going to learn to moonwalk. But I need $422,692 to get there.

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As a joke, I signed up my neighbors for Mensa. 50% of them thought they received coupons for feminine hygiene products.

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It’s weird to think that the future version of you is talking a lot of smack about you, and wondering what in the heck you were thinking today.

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Everyone asks about the security at the new apartment. I have an ax, hatchet, and pellet gun. The best feature I installed? You have to solve a basic algebra equation using an abacus, which is tied to an electronic lock. Given the demographics, good luck. 🙂.

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I wanted one inside for a long time. So I bought one in the color I wanted. Y’all can proceed with all the old people jokes you want. I remember the last time when I flirted with buying one of these. I was 75 lbs heavier and the weight limit was slightly under that for the chair I wanted.

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Apartment Adventures”X, why is the fridge in the bedroom?””Well, some people say they love food.”

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I wrote the best possible marketing tagline for the American BDSM Association: “…When You Need Someone To Mistreat You Right.”

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2005 vs 2021, aka 97 lbs. The guy on the left could have eaten the guy on the right. .

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(t r a n s l a t e d anecdote)”Yes, I would like the Jesse’s Special.Without the queso, without the tortillas, without the rice,” I said.”Uh, that leaves just the chicken only, sir.””Serves the bastard right for crossing the road, doesn’t it?”.

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My friend Jessica told me I have a face that’s hard to forget. Just as I started to feel the compliment, she added, “…and that works in favor of the police sketch artist!”

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Unity and harmony aren’t always a positive thing. Just ask the voices in my head…

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Epictetus: “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.”I have: Life. Choice. Opportunity. Whether I squander them is entirely my choice or fault. This has been true for my entire life, whether I believe it or not. At 54, I believe it. Love, X

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Knowledge you won’t find in a textbook: “Never complain about not having a shoulder to cry on if you’re around cannibals.”

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When I met the new Latino coworker, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I didn’t like him, although something about his name, Adversario, gave me pause..

An Array Of…

A visit to Sam’s proved valuable in my quest for tomfoolery. The door checker was very adamant I use the Scan-As-You-Go feature. I told him I thought that was for the bathroom. (Is that joke funny?) Among my many feats, I went down the chip and nut aisle and scanned every item on it, about 50 items. And then asked for help to remove “a couple” of things I needed to delete from my app checkout cart. Several people asked for assistance because I still wore my work badge, soft purple shirt, and fantastic Dance Commander brooch. I did my best to help them except for the last guy, who was in a bad mood and couldn’t find the coffee on sale. Without missing a beat, I told him it was all the way in the back rear corner, past the paper towels. Note: it’s not there. But it was the furthest point from me in the store. He walked off, and I decided it would be a good time to leave. I hope he complains about me to the manager! If I don’t get Employee of The Month, I’ll know who to blame.
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The picture of 3 photos is of the upper right corner of my fridge, which I’m loading with photo magnets. Everyone in the pictures except me suffers or suffered from addiction issues. Of the 5 other people in the photos, all but one of them died with their addictions. My sister Marsha is making another heroic effort to right her ship as I write this. Having phrased it slightly wrong when I said “other than me,” the truth is that everyone suffers if they love someone with addictions. Watching someone get on the diving board and stay there and then lose the battle is one of the most painful experiences any of us can live through.

There are no bystanders to addiction.
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It’s nice having a metal door. Not because it heats up to 180 F in the summer. Or prevents most people from being able to kick it. No, I like it because I can fill it with photo magnets and nonsense.
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The purpose of the picture of me against the brownish wallpaper background is two-fold: to show the brooch I wore today and to give publicity to someone’s kitchen wallpaper. I’m not standing in said kitchen. I took a picture of me standing near the trail and transposed myself onto the wild wallpaper background. The brooch inspired a lot of comments: Is it a pilot’s insignia? Was it a repurposed military medal? My go-to response was this: I’ve been promoted to Dance Commander. Whatever you do, DO NOT go to YouTube and watch “Dance Commander – Electric Six.” I love the song, but I’m guessing 103% of y’all won’t. (It’s more than 100% due to the number of my social media friends who have multiple voices in their heads.)


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The picture of the two pennies was the second brooch I made. I gave it to my Director as a gift. If the joke is too thin, it’s this: “Here are my two cents worth.” It might come in handy in conversations.


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The picture of the broken watch is sentimental. I broke off 1/2 of the band and attached a brooch clip on the reverse. I couldn’t bring myself to discard the broken watch. The phoenix in me told me to give it new life – so I did.


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The fuchsia-colored bird metalwork is something I had made by Married To The Metal on Etsy. I painted it when I moved here. If you’re interested, you should look up the word “Onism” on “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.” It’s delightful and an apt reminder while I live inside this box. It is where I discovered the word “Sonder” and many others that are a delight.


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The picture of the edge of my deck is my color tile project-in-the-making. Several of the neighbors probably think of me as some kind of artist because, most days, I’m on the deck painting a variety of things that look out of place. The apartment simplex has a variety of people: dealer, disabled, dog people, and probable serial killer. I have a lot to shoot for if I want to become the most infamous resident here. To be accused of too much color and art would be a glorious compliment.


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I went outside and picked up a lot of trash. I quit, though, because my neighbor Bill got angry when I tried to put him in a trash bag. Please take a shower, Bill. Joking aside, I find myself picking up the mess here often. It’s not my job, but I hope I never get to the point where such things don’t register in my brain; doing so will mean I’ve accepted my environment. There are several things about this place that are very much in need of handcuffs, flamethrowers, or eye-rolling. While I was out, I managed to place another prank in plain view. Just call me Prank Sinatra.
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A FedX truck barreled into the parking lot while I stood outside, relishing the breeze. The driver had salsa music blaring. For southerners, ‘salsa music’ isn’t music you listen to while you eat Tex-Mex, by the way. The driver was surprised I greeted him in Spanish. I love watching drivers pull up and always hope they need a signature. They can expect a lot of interesting scenarios with the crowd who lives here. Barking, sometimes even from actual dogs, suspiciously-folded window blinds, and a strange cast of characters.
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I have to go choose among my 17 colors of paint and see what needs brightening now. I know I don’t. I hope the mood lasts. Last evening was a challenge for me. In closing, I’d like to add: no, Marilyn, I don’t have a cat yet, although I suspect I ate a bit of cat food in the cafeteria this morning at work.

Love, X

Hellish, With Relish

I have PROOF I might be in a living hell.

I’m not exaggerating in this post. The apartments on my leg of the L-apartment simplex gets direct sunlight in the summer.

The vinyl gets to 150 F.

The metal door reached 177 F last week.

I have an infrared gun thermometer.

And y’all wonder why I look so tanned.

An Anecdote With A Surprise Ending

Can you believe that shoppers at Lowe’s are forgetful and goofy enough to drive off with items on top of their vehicle? Who does that? We’ve all seen them.

As I was leaving, a man in Silverado pickup waved at me like a long-lost old friend. I waved back, probably with the same look Steve Martin’s character from The Jerk had when he shouted “He hates those cans!”

The Silverado driver finally did enough pantomime to make me realize something.

I’ll answer my initial question. I’m that person.

I Have An Addiction (Humor & Admission)

Yesterday, I put up a 4-shelf system behind my metal front door. It’s wasted space and ideal to display curios, knick-knacks, or bric-a-brac. (If you like the hoity-toity French word for small pieces of goofiness on display.) Give me credit for using a neutral color. My inclination was to do a series of bright resonant colors.

I’m using the bottom shelf to display my favorite brooches. I guess I have a brooch addiction. What kind of 12-step program is available for such an affliction probably would be really fabulous.

For those with discerning eyes, yes, that is a pregnancy test on the far right. No, I’m not pregnant. I put that odd curio there to catch people off guard. In case they aren’t already on guard just strolling through the front door. It’s akin to the fun I have by putting underwear on the door or on the floor in plain sight. Since my friend Marilyn insists I’m circling the crazy drain, I see no point resisting filling this old apartment with a variety of easter egg surprises. (The apartment simplex has a few surprises I’ve put up – and as far as I know, no one has questioned them. It’ll be interesting to see how far I can task this long-term project before being called out. 🙂 )

As for the real confession, lately I’ve been taking puffs of small cigars. The first puff always gives me a buzz. No, these are not the cannabis kind. Despite what you’d guess by reading what I write, I don’t do drugs – and they don’t do me, either. Today is the day I stop taking puffs. This is one of those small habits that most people keep a secret, especially if it’s one they are about to give up. It’s a bit ridiculous to reveal that I’ve been doing it. I hate secrecy, which is ironic on several levels. I have no problem confessing such stupidities. I’ve found that if you don’t confess things, even the small ones, people’s idea of you grows increasingly disparate from reality.

I’m painting more tiles and attempting a wall rack. The wall rack is already a bit of a mess.

As for my small first-world problems, people I love are experiencing real heartache and the kind of life surprises that really hurt. I have hope that all of us end this day with more love and peace than we started with. It’s a small ask, one bordering on prayer.

Love, X

Of Burned Food, Shadows, And Gratitude

Y’all signed up for this, so in deference to Ron White, who quipped (paraphrasing), “I know I have the right to remain silent, just not the ability.”

It’s a great thing that I love burned food. I made homemade pizzas (though you wouldn’t like the way I do…). I set Alexa for ten minutes. That’s what I thought I said. Because I mumble worse than a child who got caught pilfering cookies, I evidently said “twenty minutes.” The smoke alarm didn’t go off. I bought one of those new-fangled kinds that gauges the luxury of the residence. Mine evidently thinks I’ll be better off if the place turns to cinders. Though it’s a ‘smart’ device with built-in wifi, it calls 7-11 instead of 911. That’s a joke. I think it’s a joke. Flavor Flav once said, “9-1-1 is a joke in your town.” To that, I’d reply, “Yeah, until you need it.” And all of us eventually do.

Saturday, despite having great conversations with three lovely souls, I found myself doing projects to fill the quiet: colorful ones designed to invade both the interior and exterior of my old apartment. I keep hoping I’ll fill it with enough brightness to drown out the shadows. Don’t get me wrong; I’m so grateful for having my health and sanity. The latter is currently on hiatus.

One of the people I talked to told me that she found herself busy with projects when she was in my situation, filling time with movement and results. She said she could see through the tightly-slitted blinds of my writing that I was experiencing the all-too-human sensation of loneliness, and doubly so given my nature.

It’s not that I’m always alone, far from it. The universes watches me closely, though, and quite often waits to throw a shawl over my enthusiasm precisely when I’m not expecting it.

I got a call yesterday that was both gratifying and emotional; as with such calls, it took me time to process it and look at it from a different perspective. It’s all in my head, of course. That’s how we experience reality, isn’t it? In our own way, cherry-picking the parts that reinforce what we’re thinking. It varies by mood, day, and person. None of us share the same reality because the voice in our head is the overriding narrative that sometimes drowns out the positive things in our lives. Or at least dims it just long enough to doubt ourselves. I envy people whose narrative is overwhelmingly one of gratitude and acceptance. What a superpower they have. Imagine if Superman walked around convincing everyone that they’re worthy. He wouldn’t need to jump tall buildings.

This is all normal – or so I’m told.

Because I’m lucky enough to have seen behind the curtains of people’s lives, I know that normal is just a word in the dictionary. One of the most normal people I know thinks it’s a great idea to shower about once a week. He doesn’t smell bad, so I’m not sure what alchemy or process he uses to “save water and time” by not showering.

It’s the universe’s perverse sense of humor that catches me off guard. No matter how good my morning or day has been, there is always a risk of unexpectedly getting smacked in the head. Sometimes, it brings joy. Sometimes, confusion. The morning gave me a bit of joy seeing the neighborhood, running without stopping, buying something for a project to help someone else out, and talking to great people.

Lord, though, the shadows.

I don’t want anyone to think I’m on happiness auto-pilot. It’s why I tell a couple of my friends that I understand all too well how our minds lay traps for us and that I understand their coping mechanisms. Short-term coping mechanisms are essential. So many of us make them inescapable habits, ones which shut off the rational parts of our lives.

I took a diamond painting of my cat Guino, the one who owns the house I used to live in – and I painted it vivid red. I changed something of the old and made it my own.

I made a runner of felt-backed tiles and put them on the deck outside my apartment. They don’t serve a purpose, except to add color and juxtapose themselves against the faded boards of the landing. I’m sure my pixie Larkma will appreciate the ornate sidewalk of the tiles. (And it tickles me that people will read the last sentence and wonder what in the hell I’m talking about.)

The burned pizzas were delicious. I didn’t plan to burn them but then wonder why I didn’t do it on purpose. No one is here to ask me what in blazes I’m doing in the kitchen.

Notes:
*To the FedEx guy who got excited when I explained how easy it is to change his name, I hope you do. You’re forty and it is ridiculous to not choose a name you’ll love.

*To the bicyclist who went by earlier, wearing bright pink ankle shoes and a hat that looked like it was a spray-painted magician’s hat, more power to you, sir.

*To the neighbor who thinks no one sees that you sometimes hold the leash and let the dog walk onto the landing to pee, you’re wrong. One day soon, as a joke, I’m going to sneak over there and hang a urinal on the railing, and mark it “For Canine Use Only.” This idea pleases me.

*The best pizza recipe in the world: however you want it. I’m constantly preaching that all food is subjective. All of us eat stuff that would make a college freshman retch into his tiny decorative beer box, the one he uses temporarily, albeit for an entire year, as a bathroom trash can. I humbly ask everyone to stop arguing from the perspective that there is a right choice about food choices. Live and let eat, even if you have to wear a blindfold and a clothespin on your nose. Also, both of these devices might make walking around this world more palatable at times.

*The breeze this morning is sublime and filled with humidity from the rain. It’s scented with foliage and the unmistakable aroma of someone’s massive cannabis habit. I’m not sure that sentiment would work well in an Emerson poem. But it works well for a Fayetteville, Arkansas moment.

*A few of my neighbors borrowed a large screen tv to watch the Razorback game. I’m not a fan. I’m a fan of large TVs, but not college football. They are still happy this morning, being able to celebrate their team winning. I would be a hateful bastard to dampen that enthusiasm. I smile, nod, and say, “…and they won by a huge margin.” That’s the extent of my game facts for yesterday. That’s enough, though.

*I never thought about “Hype Man” being a part of several people’s Wikipedia biography pages. I can’t any college that offers a major in “Hype.” I’m irritated about this oversight.

*People sometimes tell me to cool it and stop writing so many dumb jokes and to shut my brain off for a day. The last time I tried that, the City of Fayetteville offered me a job on the Urban Planning Commission based on qualifications.

*I’d plant more ideas in your head, except I definitely don’t want to get in there and water them.

Love, X

A Relationship Joke

At this moment, I REALLY needed a joke, so I pulled one of the 700+ I have done from my draft folder…

A friend of mine had a breakup with his girlfriend.

I looked at a picture of her. She’s a pretty woman with light hair.

I told him, “I guarantee that I can describe your frustration with the relationship and with how she is toward you – and probably make you laugh in the process.

“No, I don’t think you can, X.”

Here’s what I quipped:

“Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Blonde.”

Love, X