Category Archives: Humor

Biographical, Eats, Humor, New Word, Personal

Pizzaheimer’s Pants

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There’s nothing quite like the realization that you might not have any pants to wear. No one wanted to see me prancing around sans pants twenty years ago; the situation hasn’t improved any, especially as pizza became my closest friend. The only time being pantsless is a benefit is when door-to-door salesmen make the mistake of ignoring my “No Soliciting” sign. The neighbors haven’t complained about screaming people fleeing my house. Since I don’t answer the door, I wouldn’t know if they did. It’s a win-win.

As a minimalist, I have the least amount of clothing of any other adult that I know. I tend to keep only a bit more than I need. After my last long-term successful weight loss, I dropped my guard and discarded the pants that looked like MC Hammer had designed my wardrobe. I’m generally relentless about getting rid of clothes I can’t or won’t wear.

Like all idiots, once I lose weight, I assume that I will somehow defy years of forgetting my promise not to get too large again.

I name this tendency/disease Pizzaheimer’s.

Over the last few months, I’ve adopted a more care-free diet, one characterized by total surrender to the joys of excessive stuffing. I tend to wear work pants instead of blue jeans. No matter how bad you think I might look in blue jeans, it’s worse. Imagine Danny DeVito wearing jeans and roller skating.

Because I have to wear slacks at work and my job being very physical, I wear both the relaxed fit and stretchy version of my preferred pants. (Note: I’m not too fond of using the word ‘slacks’ in reference to pants.) These give me the ability to kneel or bend without accidentally hitting a high note – and from splitting my the seat of my pants in an impromptu show of agility and exposed anatomy. The undesirable consequence of this is that I can put on 20 lbs without needing to get a size bigger pants. George brand pants do indeed stretch without complaint. So do I.

Because I may have to dress above my normal sloth-like appearance in a few days, it occurred to me that I might need to try on my normal dress wear pants. As you might expect, none of them fit. Either a magical seamstress has reduced them in my closet, or my battle with fat has been an unnoticed defeat. I’m going with the latter.

As a result, after work today, I had to buy more clothes, ones that don’t expose me to the risk of public nudity if I bend over. The numbers are getting a little large, too. As a general rule, if walking the distance displayed on your pants would wear you out, it’s probably not a good waist size, either.

It’s not my fault, though. I suffer from Pizzaheimer’s.

Humor, Uncategorized

I Deserve An Award

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Social media has its moments.

I laughed until I almost cried when I noticed an acquaintance had posted one of those mind-numbing memes mocking parents who forget their children are in the back seat of their vehicles.

One afternoon long ago, my acquaintance got in her van and drove away. Her child was in a carrier on the hood of the van. (Yes, in front of her.)

I’d like a moment of silence to commemorate my ability to control my urge to post a seriously snarky comment on her meme.

Humor, New Word, Whimsical

A Misplaced Adverb

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My Dashboard Dinosaur has brought me great luck. I can’t say as much for whoever was previously inside that police outline in my driveway.

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Best opening line for a play or book: “He ran through the door as if it weren’t closed.”

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I think “Scream Door” is a better name than Screen Door, because if a child lets it slam, there will certainly be screaming.  #newword

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I hit a deer this morning. He had no defense against either a left hook or right jab.

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Because I’m dedicated to the aggressive abolition of all popular card games, the FBI has nicknamed me the Unobomber.

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My favorite radio station’s programming manager is being charged with arson. Luke Bryan’s “singing” burned my ears so badly that I can’t hear a word my wife is saying.

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A woman was being brutally mean. It was the relentless and unredeeming kind of anger manifested as a non-stop verbal attack. I’m not proud of repaying her cruelty in kind. But I am pleased with my quick reply. I’d ignored at least twenty bouts of vileness.

When she continued to belittle and berate, I held up a hand. “We have more in common than not. We have a common enemy.”

Momentarily confused, she said, “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Based on preliminary study, I’d say it’s a three-way tie between french fries, the delusion that people care what we say, and the inability to shut up.”

Epilogue: she’s REALLY mad now, with the benefit that she’ll be silent in my direction for quite a while.

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It was only after a surprise trip to Germany did Ralph Wiedersehen realize why his friends of German origin laughed each time they said goodbye to him.

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“Ask your doctor if dying due to lack of health insurance is right for you.” – Advertisement

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I nicknamed my management team “AC,” because evidently they are powered by 120 dolts.

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I found a snake in the garage.

“Can you identify it?” my wife asked.

“I don’t need to – it has a driver’s license,” I replied.

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“Stop paying full price,” the sign said. So I ran like hell.

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People are interested in how I learned Spanish until I tell them, “Large doses of LSD.” It won’t work for everyone, sure, but no one will notice what language you’re speaking when your pants are made out of banana peels.

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I wrote the best joke ever written a few minutes ago.
This isn’t the joke.
This is the tribute.

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Eureka Springs, Humor, Uncategorized

A Surprise Ending!

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Last week, we went to spend the after-holiday weekend north of Eureka and Holiday Island. Due to the throngs of tourists, the horse-drawn carriages were operating, despite the heat.

As we went up the scenic loop before leaving town to go to the cabin, we passed a carriage with 10 or 11 middle-aged women enjoying the ride. They were laughing and rocking the carriage with glee. They were dressed identically and were drawing onlooker’s gazes. The driver was keeping a close eye on them, as a couple of the ladies were holding poorly concealed drinks.

A block up the loop, a water main was leaking, and traffic was backed up. I turned around in a narrow driveway and headed back down.

As I took the next corner, my wife gasped in surprise. Ahead of us, we could see that the carriage had overturned, tossing the ladies out. Several were on the grass. The driver was standing next to the carriage, obviously crying a little and upset.

I pulled up next to him and put down my window.

“Hey, there’s no need to cry, sir!” I told him.

My wife looked at me with horror.

“Why not? This could have been fatal,” he said.

“Maybe. But everyone knows there’s no use crying over spilled milf.”

Humor, Personal

Cat Concussion

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I prepared a light meal for my wife Dawn so that she could multi-task. (Multi-tasking is a word used to conceal the fact that you’re doing many things at once – and none of them very well.)

While I was assembling the various items for eating, I gave my cat Güino the proper portion on a separate plate in the kitchen. He devoured my offering and then sat in the middle of the kitchen, licking his chops with great satisfaction, perhaps hoping gravity would prevail and drop him further morsels for satisfied consumption. We often comment that he eats more treats than cat food. It’s hard to fault him given my predilection to do the same. If the pantry were equipped with a McDonald’s french fry dispenser, I’d be in mortal peril.

I went to the office and presented the plate of food to my wife.

Under the slight chance that we wouldn’t compare notes, the cat sneaked in the office and casually made his approach, both closer and higher to Dawn’s plate. He sometimes believes himself to be invisible – or believes that we are stupidly inattentive. Dawn and I began the ritual of shooing him away like a bothersome housefly. Like a hungry hyena, he would then start a new approach, hoping we’d forgotten that he had been shooed away in the last thirty seconds.

After the third failed attempt, he turned around immediately at the door and began another stealthy saunter toward my wife’s desk. Without looking his direction, I kicked my left foot out with high velocity. There was no chance I was going to kick the cat. His reflexes, however, triggered and he turned violently to the right. I heard a loud ‘clunk’ as the cat’s head hit the door jamb and wall. Güino seemed stunned for a moment and then shakily ran out of the room and away from the hallway.

I laughed. Ever since Dawn ‘bopped’ him on the head with a spoon and made him go cross-eyed for a bit, we’ve awaited his next concussion.

As I entered the living room, I watched as Güino stepped sideways and plopped into a heap between the television monitor and the coffee table.

I jokingly started a countdown, as if a boxing match TKO was ongoing in the confines of the living room.

This round goes to the humans. He’ll get his revenge when I least expect it.