Tag Archives: humor

Christmas Shopping

I spent this morning doing some Christmas shopping. Unlike many people I actually enjoy shopping on the last few days before Christmas because everyone is in a good mood… well, except maybe some of the sales clerks. I believe it’s a myth that everybody is bitchy and pissed off and crotchety on the last few shopping days before Christmas. Most people are just off from work for a little while so they’re able to be finally feel happy about the upcoming holiday… or maybe they’re just drunk… whatever…

Here are a few observations:

I was in a bookstore for about an hour. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I just thought it would be fun to look around. Some of you know, until this past November I worked in a family business… a bookstore… for the last eighteen years. It was a college bookstore, so we sold textbooks, rather than general reading books, but a bookstore nonetheless. Books became business to me. We made good incomes selling books, but I started hating books. The last thing I wanted to do was look at a book. Plus, as a retail store, we were always busy this time of year and didn’t get much time off. But today, I stood in a bookstore and looked through books and had a grand old time. I held them in my hands and stared at the covers and browsed the pages inside and even bought a few things. It was a renewed love affair.

I was in a store that sold wine today.  When I brought my purchase up to the cashier’s desk, she asked to see my ID.  I’m pretty sure that she didn’t think I was under twenty-one, this was just a store policy that they ask everyone to show an ID so they can enter their birth year into the cash register. I pulled out my wallet and flashed my driver’s license.  As I was closing my wallet back up, I noticed sticking out from behind my license was the appointment card for my upcoming, long overdue vasectomy surgery.  In big green letters on the top of the card, clearly visible to the cashier was the word UROLOGY.  Probably not too many guys under twenty-one spending time at the urologist’s office.

I’m a pretty friendly, people-person kind of guy… but have you ever seen someone who you don’t know, a complete stranger, and think “God, I hate that person.” I saw a woman today who was all scrunched up and angry-looking and that thought ran through my head… then I said to myself “thank God, I don’t have to spend the holidays with that woman.” Then I felt bad… because that scrunched up, angry woman is probably somebody’s wife, mother, sister, aunt… whatever. Oh well, hopefully she has a Merry Christmas and isn’t so fucking scrunched up when she’s with her family.

Hip stores play great Christmas music that really gets me in the holiday mood. Not that crap Christmas music you hear on the radio where they play “Grandma got run over by a reindeer” six hundred times a day, but funky, jazzy, cool Christmas tunes that you haven’t necessarily heard before. I like Christmas music like that… it’s fun and it makes me happy. By the way… whoever the hell wrote and sang “Grandma got runover…” should be locked up for torturing us all these years with that shitty, douche-bag song.

When you shop where I live, everybody says “Merry Christmas” to you. “What’s wrong with that” you ask? Well, nothing really… except… although I’ve lived in Michigan now for the past 18 years, I grew up on Long Island, New York where there is a large Jewish population. So you didn’t say Merry Christmas to everyone because there was a good possibility that they were not Christian and didn’t celebrate Christmas. Apparently I am still under the influence of that upbringing and I tend not to say Merry Christmas to people unless they say it first.

Even then I say it with a sense of… “I know you just said Merry Christmas to me… so I feel somewhat confident that I can say it back to you… perhaps… so… Merry Christmas to you too… ummmm… I think… you know… unless you happen to be Jewish… or Muslim… or Hindu… or Atheist… and you were just saying it to me because you figured I live in Michigan so the odds are pretty good that I celebrate Christmas… you know… so have a nice holiday, whatever you happen to be celebrating.”

Lastly on the subject of Christmas… man the freakin’ Christmas cards are pouring in. We get a shit-load of Christmas cards this time of year. I never get Christmas cards in February or May… or even September… but they roll in by the dozens this time of year. We are not good at reciprocating and sending out Christmas cards to all of our friends and family. If it were solely my responsibility… frankly it would never happen. My wife pulls it together some years and sends out “New Year’s” cards sometime in January.

I’ve always wondered why people send Christmas cards with only pictures of their kids on the card. Are you and your spouse that hideous that you can’t be on the card as well? If you’re my friend, I want to see a picture of you on the Christmas card, especially if I haven’t seen you in a while… you know… so I can see if you’ve gotten fat and bald. Then I can feel better about myself and everybody needs a little bit of that, especially around the holidays.

I’d love to see a Christmas card with me on it… you know… perhaps in a red Speedo with a Santa Clause hat on.  Hey, if that just made you throw up in your mouth a little… well, I hope you get coal in your stocking!

Merry Christmas… ummmm… I think… you know… whatever… just have a nice holiday, whatever you happen to be celebrating.

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The Intruder

This is a recycled story, published some time ago, that some of you have seen, but I thought it should be updated for the season and for the slew of new readers that have joined the fun since then. Enjoy!

 

“Steve, I think I hear someone downstairs” my wife said to me as she shook me and woke me up from a deep slumber.

“What… what’s going on?” I murmured still half asleep.

“Shhhh” she said. “I think I hear someone downstairs!”

Now I was wide awake. It was the middle of the night and there was an intruder in our house. I wondered why our dog, a 200 lb. St. Bernard, hadn’t woken up and barked. I quickly remembered though, all the times I had come home from work, walked into the house and not awakened him.

“Great watchdog” I thought to myself.

“Should we call the police?” my wife asked.

“Whoa there, hold on. Let me sneak down there and see what’s going on.”

“Okay, but what if someone’s down there?”

“I’ll be fine.” I crawled out of bed, adrenaline spiraling through my body, threw on some sweatpants and started heading towards the bedroom door.

“Be careful”, she said as I left the room.

I took a quick glance at the kid’s bedroom doors and both were closed. I had been hoping it was just one of them awake and downstairs getting a snack or something to drink. Two closed doors meant both kids were still asleep in their rooms. I continued to the stairs.

The stairs in our 120 year old house are terribly creaky. I’ve always thought that would be beneficial someday when the kids were coming home late at night. But not now! Not as I was risking my life to find out who was walking around our house in the middle of the night. I desperately tried to remember which steps made the loudest noise so I could avoid them, but other than the bottom three, which I knew were loose, my mind was drawing a blank. I gently took each stair, trying to be as silent as possible.

First step… okay.

Second step… okay.

Third step… CREAK!

“UGH,” I groaned quietly jumping down one more step to try to minimize the noise. I stood there quietly trying to catch my breath and get my heart rate down a little bit. In the deadly stillness of the night, I heard some rustling noises downstairs that sounded like it was coming from the family room. “This is absolutely nuts” I thought. “What are you thinking?”

But something drew me on, so I continued down the creaky steps, one at a time and thankfully, mostly quietly. Those last few steps could be a problem, but maybe a few loud creaks would scare off the intruder. I moved quickly… CREAK… CREAK… CREAK… and I was in the dining room, heart beating out of my chest, but still alive, and having not yet come face to face with anyone.

The rustling noise was still coming from the family room which was the room next door to where I was standing. I guess my plan hadn’t worked! With my back against the wall, like one of those cops you see in a Hollywood blockbuster movie, patrolling a house full of armed thugs, I peered around the corner. That’s when I saw him, this intruder that was invading the privacy of our house. His back was to me and he was working fast moving about the room with a bag packed full of stuff.

I stepped back behind the wall to reassess the situation. My heart was beating uncontrollably and I noticed that my hands were now shaking. “I’ve seen him before” I thought. “What is he doing here?” In just that brief glance I had recognized his grayish white hair and his clothes. I stealthily peered around the wall once again and he was still there, back towards me, but moving fast… so incredibly fast… doing his business rapidly so he could get to the next house, to the next job.

For a moment I just watched in stunned amazement, afraid to startle him, afraid to interrupt him. Finally I couldn’t help myself. “Pssst” I said, trying to gently announce my presence. He didn’t hear me. “Pssst” I said again, a little louder. This time he whipped around rapidly, surprised at being seen, his eyes wide open and his white beard and his traditional red suit now clearly visible.

“Oh, it’s just you” he said with a relieved tone. “For a second I thought it might be a kid.”

“No, I checked and they’re still sound asleep” I reassured him. “But what the hell are you doing here?” I scolded. “You scared the crap out of me. My kids don’t believe in you anymore. I thought someone had broken into the house.”

He smiled that familiar, big grin and laughed that familiar, jolly old laugh and tossed me a big chocolate snowman wrapped in silver and red foil. “Eat this and go back to bed” he said as the snowman flew across the room towards me. “Lots of kids say they don’t believe anymore. Most of ‘em still want to believe but there’s just too much peer pressure from their friends. I’m not ready to give up on yours just yet!”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense” I replied.

“Here, put this in one of the kid’s stockings, I don’t need it. I ate a bunch of candy before I turned in tonight.” I tossed the snowman back to him. “Guess I better get back to bed.” “See you next year, maybe?” I asked as I started to turn around to head back upstairs.

“We’ll see, that’s a long way off, let me get through this year first.”

“Yeah, okay… alright good night” I said and I turned back towards the creaky stairs. For a brief second I wondered if I was sleep walking and I stopped and glanced back. No, I was definitely awake, but our guest was gone, the dog was asleep on the floor gently snoring, and the rest of the house seemed deathly quiet. I grabbed a glass of water and poured it down my parched throat as I pondered this late night encounter.

A few moments later, up the stairs I went, back into the bedroom. My wife was asleep as if nothing had happened, but as I climbed into bed, the jostling of the mattress woke her up.

“You okay?” she mumbled, her now half asleep.

“Yeah, I’m fine” I said. “I just needed a glass of water… I haven’t been sleeping real well tonight. Must be all that chocolate I ate.”

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Overlooked… AGAIN!

I am mad!

I am really mad!

I am really so fucking MAD!

Do you know why I am MAD?

No?

Well, listen up, ‘cuz this is some serious business!

You readers probably know this already, but just in case you don’t… in case you are not a subscriber… in case you haven’t seen the front page…. well… I have been overlooked once again. OVERLOOKED… ONCE… AGAIN! Do they think I haven’t noticed? Do they think I’m not offended? Do they think I haven’t figured out that they probably are not even considering me?

Well… BELIEEEVVEEE MEEEE… I HAVE noticed. It’s a sham, it’s a crock, its criminal. Time and again I’ve put myself out there in front of the world and time and again I’ve been overlooked. Overlooked like the last kid picked in gym class for the dodgeball team. Overlooked like some dork at the school dance, standing against the wall, hoping the homecoming queen will ask him out. Yeah, I’ve noticed alright! I keep getting overlooked and… I… AM… MAD! In fact I have been overlooked so many times I’m starting to feel like Susan Lucci at the Emmy Awards.

Seriously, are they saying I don’t have what it takes?

Well, you know what? I think I do have what it takes. I mean, what the fuck do these other guys have that I don’t have? Is it because I swear too damn much? Or what… do you have to have connections or something? Do you have to kiss someone’s ass?  Do you have to be like a goddamn movie star?

I mean, who in the hell do these people who make these decisions think they are? Who’s involved in the selection process? What’s their criteria for selection? I want to know! I want some facts and figures! I want some answers to these questions!

I demand some goddamn answers!

Because, you know what? YOU… KNOW… WHAT? I think it should finally be my turn.  I think I deserve it because I’ve worked hard and I believe I have a large fan base that would support my selection!  Think what it would do for my reputation, my fame, my stature.  Think how my blog would grow! Next time around, I want to be selected, I want to be on the goddamn front page!

I will not be OVERLOOKED any more!

I mean, who the fuck is Bradley Cooper anyway? Sure, he’s handsome and has great hair and stunning blue eyes and perfect teeth, and sure, he won this time…

… but frankly… I’ve never heard of the guy.

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MEMO: Changes to Shitting Policies

MEMO

November 25th, 2011

TO:  ALL BROWN ROAD RESIDENTS

RE:  Changes to Shitting Policies

 

As stated in the Brown Road Resident Handbook and Policy Manual; Section 5, Page 24; Shitting Policies:

Any resident (person or animal) that uses the out-of-doors as the primary location for shitting shall have no restrictions on where the particular shitting must occur. As the Brown Road Residence has a reasonably large area of property, Brown Road Management feels it would put undue burden on our residents to specify that out-of-doors shitting only take place in certain areas.

It is these types of flexible and considerate policies that Brown Road Management believes contributes to the well-being and consistent happiness and satisfaction of all of our residents.  However, it has come to our attention that there has been a proliferation of shitting on or in the vicinity of the entryway porch.  Yesterday, to prepare the residence for guests to arrive to share in the annual Thanksgiving Feast, Brown Road Management was required to clean up roughly twenty piles of dog shit from the area immediately surrounding the main residence entryway, as well as sweep up a large volume of goat shit that had been directly deposited on the porch.  Brown Road Management understands that the actual process of shitting can be complicated and can, perhaps catch some of our residents off-guard. However, as the Brown Road Resident Handbook and Policy Manual makes quite clear, Brown Road Management believes we have afforded all of you out-of-doors shitters, plenty of space to do your shitting, approximately three full acres and that it is unnecessary for you to do the vast majority of your shitting in the roughly twenty square feet that our residents and guests must walk through upon entering the residence.

Shitting on or in the vicinity of the entryway porch is problematic for a variety of reasons, those being most notably;

  • It is unkempt and unsanitary.
  • Guests entering the home resemble soldiers traversing a minefield.
  • Independent research has proven that stepping in shit and tracking it into the home has negative ramifications on the well-being of those residents who spend most of their time inside.

Therefore, with sincere and deep regret, Brown Road Management has determined that we must immediately revise the out-of-doors shitting policy as follows:

Any resident (person or animal) that uses the out-of-doors as the primary location for shitting shall be restricted to shitting no closer than 100 feet from any and all high traffic areas. This includes all entryways to the home and barns, picnic tables, seating areas and driveway. We understand that this may put an undue burden on those residents that do the majority of their shitting out-of-doors but in turn we believe that these shitting restrictions are in the best interest of all Brown Road residents.

Violations of this policy will be handled on a case-by-case basis, but in general will follow the steps outlined in the Brown Road Resident Handbook and Policy Manual, Section Seven: Disciplinary Procedures and Corporal Punishment. Please review that section of your manual at your earliest convenience.  We also suggest you print a copy of this memo and add it to your individual handbooks for future reference.

Thank you for your patience and understanding of Brown Road Management’s decisions regarding this regrettable situation.

 

 

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