Category Archives: Humor

“In a Relationship” to “It’s Complicated”

It dawned on me today that it’s been a long while since I’ve gone from “in a relationship” to “it’s complicated.” Time for a Facebook update.

Maybe you know what I’m talking about–the frustrating hours and time spent communicating  talking with someone only to realize that he or she just doesn’t get it (apparently, they never will).

Could be that your personal investment in the one sided relationship fling and the cold awareness that the other person doesn’t care as strongly about you as you do for him (or her) becomes your final wake-up call.

Whatever the deciding factor is that tips your relationship to “it’s complicated” and a looming break-up, know that you’re not alone. There are hundreds of thousands of us who know what you’re going through with Comcast and we’re here for you.

B.S. Meter

Meter reader guy:  “I inspected your service line and nothing’s been tampered with.”

Me:   “Thank God, I was worried for a minute.”

Meter reader guy:  “I went ahead with the maintenance and you should be good to go.”

Me:  “What do I owe you?”

Meter reader guy:  “Nothing.  Says here you’ve paid in full.”

Me:  “Awesome!”

I am happy to announce (no, not that, what the heck were you thinking?) that my B.S. meter is fully operational.  It is so sensitive that it picks up the slightest B.S. kilowatt.  Then the small hand moves.  Fortunately, I am not charged for B.S. read.  I’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble.  However, I am developing a portable, handheld system that may be purchased for a reasonable price for those of you whose meters are not working properly.  I have many people to thank for my highly, specialized meter but I will reserve my accolades for another time and place (the B.S. Oscars 2011).  In the mean time, you know who you are.  I do, however, have my speech worked out.

Me (accepting my award):  “Thank-you.  I am so honored.  I would like to thank my family and friends for supporting me during times of high stress  B.S.  Next, I thank those red hands for spinning out of control and saving me from unnecessary naivety. I will treasure you always.  For those of you who have fine tuned my meter because of the spoonfuls truckloads of B.S. you have dumped my way, my future appreciates it (bowing)!”

Suave, Four-Legged Children

I’m from a soflo city which, in recent years (about the last 20 or so) has become somewhat of a suave place to live.  Part of the suaveness includes numerous Starbucks (thank God) and a posh mall that, when I was a child, had a toy store and a Taco Viva (yes, for a seven-year old kid, it was thrilling). Now there is a plethora of stores I do not know the names of (excluding Juicy because that’s just sheer fun to pronounce). But I digress.

I am an allergy queen.  I will not bore you with the details but the only pets I am aware of that will not aggravate my asthma or allergies are reptiles (yep, turtles, snakes, lizards etc.). Fish are safe, too, but not an option.  Years of living with lone Betas that required their own little containers (because the pretty males would kill one another if put in the same tank), certain water, special fish food, who managed to persist way beyond the normal goldfish life span (one of them survived five years even after accidentally ending up in the disposal), no way, no how.  You get the drift.

Back to my original point.  People here like dogs.  A lot.  They love them actually.  Many people act like the dogs are their children.  Some of the dogs ARE children.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love dogs.  Have always loved dogs.  Will always love dogs.  I was fortunate enough to have two of the dear creatures growing up (they were a girl’s best friend).  But, they were DOGS.  They did not sit at the dinner table, have their own laptops, and sport designer clothing.  In my city, though, a phenomenon exists.  I’d call it a trend but it’s bigger than that.  More like a revolution.  A doggie revolution.  Not only do dogs have their own park, they now travel (many of them complete with doggie seat belts and sunglasses) to such places as the aforementioned posh mall.  And high-end restaurants.  And Whole Foods.  And Starbucks.  The owners of large dogs showcase their “children” by diamond studded leashes.  The “children” flaunt pink leather collars with engraved, sterling dog tags.

Look, a working dog helping someone to live a normal life (or as close to a normal life as possible), fabulous.  Police canines who fight crime, sniff out drugs, and help to protect my community, awesome.  Childhood pets like Buster, Max, and Molly, who are home chilling where they should be, wonderful.  I’m not referencing these fantastic animals.

I’m speaking about Fifi, Diego, and Persia whose doggie doo I step in when I come out of Starbucks.  Who I spot scouring The Mall perched in their comfy, cushiony STROLLERS!  Where else in the world, with the exception of Beverly Hills, can you walk through The Mall and see a pair of dachshunds side by side in their pink, double wide STROLLER?  I know, I know.  I grew up here.  I am a native and I swear it wasn’t like this twenty-five years ago.  I find myself irritated enough to consider showing up with an adopted “child” in a stroller, too.  Only my “child” would be roughly twelve feet long, have brown blotches up and down its back, and would curl up nicely in its STROLLER.  Of course, when it would get hungry, I’d be sure to drop into the nearest pet store to pick up a few rats or rabbits. At least my “child,” couldn’t send someone into anaphylactic shock.  A heart attack, maybe, but no Zyrtec necessary.  Please, people, leave your “children” home, safe and sound.  Those of us who are allergic, thank-you.

Humor Me Monday

Wow! A post on Monday the intended day!  Fabulous!

  • My niece and nephew were spending the night over the weekend.  My nephew wanted to sleep in my son’s room (my children were time-sharing with their dad) and my niece was thrilled to sleep in my daughter’s room.  They both ran into the bedrooms.  Nothing but silence from my daughter’s room as my niece headed straight to the dollhouse.  Suddenly, I heard “booooooooooo” streaming from my son’s room.  I walked in and my nephew was lying on his back on the floor staring at my son’s bulletin board.  I glanced over and saw the large, signed poster of the Florida Panther’s ice dancers (with their exposed abs, short shorts, and laser whitened teeth).  “Do you want me to take that down for you?” I asked.  The kid is only 7 yrs. old!  “Yes!”  he replied with another long “booooooo.”  I promptly removed the push pins and placed it out of sight.  The sweet innocence and wit of little ones!

Humor Me Monday

This past week, a couple of cute incidents occurred involving my niece and nephew.  Aside from the Jedi training questions from a couple blogs ago (which were quite serious you know), others things made me laugh (or suppress laughs):


  • Christmas Eve, my nephew and I were discussing elves at the dinner table.  I told David and Emmie how I asked Santa (every year from the time I was a kid) for an elf.  The elf conversation quickly changed to a discussion about boyfriends and girlfriends (don’t ask how). My niece blurted out, “But I already know who I’m going to marry, Aaron!”  I explained to her that it was sweet since he was a nice boy (they’re in kindergarten) but she’d have to date him when she was old enough (college age, ha-ha). Then, I told her how she’d need to see if he treats her well like opening the car door for her, calls her when he says he will, makes sure he is kind, caring, and doesn’t tell lies etc.

Suddenly, my nephew turned to me and said, “Auntie, you can’t have a leprechaun for a boyfriend because they’re sneaky and they steal!”

“What?” I asked trying not to laugh.  He smirked at me and repeated his statement.  I assured him I would not and he seemed relieved.  Lol.

  • (Christmas evening.  My niece looked exhausted.  My mom asked her if she slept Christmas Eve.)

“Not at all,” Emmie replied.  “I heard Santa open the front door at midnight.  Then he put the magic, yellow dust on me and it makes me dizzy.  Then it stops and I still remember.”

“Remember what?” I asked.

“You know Auntie.  That I saw him.”

“He probably needs to use more dust for you then,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess so.  That’s why I’m so tired.  The dust didn’t work. I was up all night!”

(If you could have seen her convincing, little face and gestures as she explained it, even better.)

Life is never dull with little ones around and they are a continuous stream of humor.  I’m so grateful to be an auntie and a mom!  Till next Monday. . .