Let's Talk

"Come on, Luke Three, aren’t you hungry?"
"Honey, he’s not going to answer you."
Since the kids have moved out, we have decided that it’s difficult enough to just take care of me, so we both agreed … No Pets.
That didn’t stop my wife from bringing home “Luke Three”. He, or she, is a Beta fish. Oh, yes, there was “Luke” and “Luke Two”. My wife still calls this latest one “Luke Two”. I argued, there was already one. She said there were three others. Then one was missing. It may have been named “Luke One” … and if it had been “Luke One”, then which one would just plain “Luke” be?
Technically, “Luke” would be “Luke One” as well, right? I was so confused.
She finally put me straight … there was “Luke” and all that followed would be named “Luke Too”.
Welcome to my marriage!
Anyway … how she names our fish isn’t the point.
The point I’m making is this … she talks to it.
When she taps the top of the tank and shakes in some food, Luke responds by rising to the top to eat. Luke never utters a word back.

"Paulie! Furio! Nana and Papa are here. Come say hello."
Our youngest one and her husband have cats.
They always converse with their cats, as most cat owners do.
Nana, my wife, talks to them too.
"Paulie … ah, here’s the big boy."
"Furio … Where are you? Come give Nana a kiss."
Paulie is … the bigger boy … but Furio … never gives her a kiss. Cats hardly ever do what they’re told.
The cats respond more to the sound of their box of food being shaken than any words you say to them. You shake … they come. Other than a “meow” Paulie and Furio never utter a word.

"Chief, sit! Chief, stay!"
Our second-born (by six minutes) and her husband own a dog. His name is Chief.
"Chief, speak!"
“Rrrrrrrrrruff!”
Okay. We’re moving a little further up the intelligence ladder here.
There’s only one way I can think of when we’d actually hear a recognizable and appropriate word come out of Chief’s mouth … tell Chief to speak, after asking him how conversations go between Papa and Nana.
Other than the word “rough” (and Chief spells it wrong) … they always talk to him and Chief never utters a word.

"Lucia, what are you trying to say. Please repeat that. "
Our first-born (by six minutes) and her husband gave us our first grandchild.
Her name is Lucia.
We all talk to Lucia and at seventeen-months-old she is beginning to talk back to us. We can understand a word or two but the communications between us are a bit frustrating to say the least. Her Nana’s conversational skills and Italian mannerisms definitely stand out.
We talk to Lucia and Lucia utters a few back to us. We just wish we understood her. Check out this “father-daughter conversation …

T-Shirt Friday on Monday

This post is being published to play along with a dear fellow blogger, nursemyra. In wanting to stay healthy and happy, I followed her professional instructions for treating my underactive funny bone.
No ... not that one ... although it has been laughed at.
Anyway ... She has invited everyone to post his or her own T-shirt pic … and so as to keep with the theme she's chosen (above), I dug deep in the t-shirt draw and found this long retired favorite.

PLEASE NOTE
This license has expired a while ago and although it has never been renewed there are always the flashbacks. (smile/wink)

Papa and His Girls

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

A Link Love Carol

My friend M.I. over at Malicious Intent invited me to participate in a Christmas meme. The challenge was to write my own lyrics to the Twelve Days of Christmas ...
(Click Here for For Background Melody).
So with Stocking Stuffer Link Love ... Sing along ...

On the first day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
A place where I can be Practically!

On the second day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the third day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the fourth day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the fifth day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
All unmentioned Blogs,
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the sixth day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Six Offended Bloggers,
All unmentioned Blogs,
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the seventh day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Seven Catscratch Divas,
Six Offended Bloggers,
All unmentioned Blogs,
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the eighth day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Eight Nurse Myra corsets,
Seven Catscratch Divas,
Six Offended Bloggers,
All unmentioned Blogs
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the ninth day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Nine Depp Effects,
Eight Nurse Myra corsets,
Seven Catscratch Divas,
Six Offended Bloggers,
All unmentioned Blogs,
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the tenth day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Ten Malicious Intents,
Nine Depp Effects,
Eight Nurse Myra corsets,
Seven Catscratch Divas,
Six Offended Bloggers,
All unmentioned Blogs,
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Eleven of VE’s Nonsense,
Ten Malicious Intents,
Nine Depp Effects,
Eight Nurse Myra corsets,
Seven Catscratch Divas,
Six Offended Bloggers,
All unmentioned Blogs,
Four of Bee’s Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
Google sent to me,
Twelve drinks at the Wild Onion,
Eleven of VE’s Nonsense,
Ten Malicious Intents,
Nine Depp Effects,
Eight Nurse Myra corsets,
Seven Catscratch Divas,
Six Offended Bloggers,
All unmentioned Blogs,
Four of Bee's Musings,
Three from Queen Goob,
Two Mental Poos,
And a place where I can be Practically!

Happy Holidays to All!

Secret Santa Picture Gift Swap

This is my first blogging Christmas and thanks to the hard work and dedication of Bee, at Bee’s Musings, I received an invitation to join in on the “Secret Santa Can Suck It” picture gift swap.
Out of the hat came a fellow blogger’s name I had never heard of before, but I was excited to learn all I could to search for the perfect gift to give.

So I put on my hiking boots and headed out to Bum Fuque Egypt where this blogger resides. It didn’t take long to find my blogger, once I was in the Hillbilly sticks I asked directions and was told to follow the empty beer cans and they’d lead me right to the asshole. (BTW … this has already become an adventure for me. Just visiting my Secret Santa recipient has influenced my blogging style … two curses in the same paragraph is a new record for me.)

I learned quickly that my new blogger friend was in desperate need of help. From the far side of the chicken coop I witnessed a crafty old fox, a wounded duck and a maniacal woman with a gun. I hit the dirt and snake-crawled back to my computer.

I have got to come up with the perfect gift for a lady that calls herself an asshole, has a welcoming song on her blog about an asshole, loves sushi, loves vampires and shoots guns. DUCK!!! … No seriously, get up, she’s not here … but …I did decide on the perfect gift thanks to that DUCK!! WAIT! COME ON PEOPLE GET UP! I told you she's not here.


Meet Sassy … from none other than … Sassy & Opinionated. Sassy, right now is in the middle of a crisis. There’s a fox visiting her henhouse. Worst of all, the damn fox attacked and wounded her duck. This fox is very smart and has escaped the crosshairs of Sassy’s gun.

My Secret Santa gift to Sassy is a masterful plan, along with the backup needed to rid her of this fox. I’ve hired a team of specialists and spent time and money developing a master plan.

THE TARGET … MR. FOX


Michael? No … not that one.


Wait, yes! Hmmmm. Vivica? No. Sorry.

That's him! Caught in the act by one of our field photographers on our surveillance team, cleverly disguised so not to arouse suspicion.



THE DECOYS

Our wounded duck is currently in the hospital ...
... being cared for by the distinguished Dr. Quack

THE PLAN

The plan is to substitute a decoy in the barn …

We will also use a fake Dr. Quack. Again … so not to arouse suspicion.

Our professionally trained team members are strategically positioned in the field and are on high alert.







THE TRAINING

Be assured … Lots of preparation has gone into this operation, including and not limited to role playing techniques and battlefield advice from the distinguished General Fox Terrier.


Once the target is spotted we will spare no effort to complete our mission.
Air support will be brought in to dispose of the culprit and life will once again be good.



THE GIFT ... A SAFER HOMESTEAD

Sassy, don’t fear. All the horses, sheep, dogs, cats, chickens and “Ducky” will someday soon be safe from Mr. Fox.
So put down your gun, pop open a beer and gather the family to sing some asshole songs.
Your Secret Santa will take care of everything.

Oh ...I also got you a stocking stuffer.
Offering Rodney and Carrington songs on your blog like "Letter to My Penis" ...
I thought you might like to listen to something similar but different.
Turn up your speakers and ... Enjoy!



"Wishing a very joyful Merry Christmas to Sassy and her Family"
... Practically Joe

Hey! If you like to see what my Secret Santa gave to me ... CLICK HERE!

Getting in the Holiday Spirit

It’s Sunday. It’s my day off.
While having my coffee, I visited some of my favorite blogs.
Suddenly I was feeling some Christmas spirit.
It happened while visiting Bee’s Musings.
She had organized a “Secret Santa Can Suck It!” community blog. Check it out! What a fun idea.
I felt invigorated. I was ready to confront my Christmas time duties. I agreed to do some Christmas shopping with my wife.
This made her happy.

First … because we needed a tree and my wife’s car has the biggest trunk, we decided to take her car. Inside the car …
"Joe, where are we going first?"
"Well, what’s on our list?"

I formulated a plan …
My walk around inspection of my wife’s vehicle alerted me to the fact that two of her tires were under-inflated. From the driver’s seat I immediately noticed that she needed gas. First stop would be a service station along our route.
We arrived at our first stop, filled her up and waited for the “FREE” air pump.
There was a car at the air pump and there seemed to be a problem. There were two women seeming to have difficulties. I watched as they took the air hose and proceeded to feed it through the driver’s door. I was perplexed. We were now waiting at the pump for 12 minutes to use the air hose. I wondered what could be wrong as I eyed one of the women re-enterer the gas station. I followed her in. She informed the clerk that the hose might be frozen so they ran it inside their vehicle and turned up the heat.
The clerk said … ”Huh?” (In his defense … it was 50 degrees outside.) She then said to the clerk …
"Look, something is wrong, Instead of filling our tire it took all the air out of it and now it’s flat."
Seeing the confused look on the clerk’s face, I stepped in and told the clerk not to worry … I will try to help the woman. This made the woman happy. (as well as the clerk)
What I found was that the women were not holding down the “start” button long enough for the air compressor to start. They allowed all the air to escape from their tire wile holding the non-operative nozzle down on the valve so all the air escaped. I properly started the compressor and filled their tire. I was their hero.
They obviously thought I was hot and the left smiling and very, very thankful.
My wife was not at all impressed.
I’m not even sure she was aware of what was going on … she was on her cell phone. I filled her tires and we proceeded to the mall.

At the mall, I immediately asked one of those mall cops on a Segway scooter for directions. He moved back and forth while studying his pocket map.
My wife commented … "I’d like one of those."
I made a mental note, but then quickly erased it as I pictured her on one.
At the first store, one that sold baby clothes, we had our first argument, which resulted in me waiting outside the shop. I people watched and had much fun.

We proceeded to the next mall where I was going to visit a watch repair shop owned by a guy who owed me money. (Maybe a story for another time.)
I replaced a battery on one watch and added a new watchband to another, absolutely free.
BOO-YA! ”Who knows how to shop, baby?”
Again, my wife was not impressed.

Next … It was off to Lowes. Why Lowes? I had a $10 off coupon.
That would make our Christmas tree cost $10 less.
Do I know how to shop or what!
Alas … They were all sold out.

Well … I guess we’ll head home.
Yeah right!
"I know a place we can buy a tree."
I followed her lead which took us off my planned route.
We purchased a “Charlie Brown” special for $25.

Well … I guess NOW we can head home.
"Joe, I’d really like a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee."
Of course! Without fail, anytime we hit the road, for whatever reason, she wants to stop for coffee along the way. I think she does it purposely to aggravate me.
Nah! She wouldn’t do that. Would she?

We finally made it home.
Shortly after our arrival our youngest and her husband came by to finish the job I had started when I fell and broke my ribs. Gratefully, my wife and I helped them.
I had to retrieve the notorious ladder out of the shed for them.
"Hello, Mr. Ladder, remember me?"
I swear Mr. Ladder chuckled.

So, that was my Sunday, my day off.
I hope you enjoyed it half as much as I did.
Soon, I should find out who I have as my “Secret Santa”.
Though I’m not a big fan of memes and such, I’m really looking forward to participating in Bee’s, “Secret Santa Can Suck It!” extravaganza.
I wonder who will get me as their Secret Santa? … Stay tuned.

Mr. Mucus Paid a Visit

The little guy above, who some may know as “Mr. Mucus”, has caused me pain and money. How? Well, first of all, I’m sure he had something to do with my recent cough which just about killed me as my broken ribs were healing. Then, it was expensive getting rid of him.
No, I didn’t hire the Orkin Man, he admitted he was no match for Mr. Mucus.

So who is this Mr. Mucus?
He is like the black sheep of the mucus family. I’m sure you are familiar with some of the clan. Like cousin Phlegm who resides in your respiratory tract and his sister, Snot, who lives up your nose. The mucus family really has a lot of members and the live quietly in our bodies performing important jobs like keeping crap out of our lungs, filtering the air we breath and even helping to soften food making it easier to swallow. I’m sure you’re happy I shared that little tidbit.

Now from what I researched, Mr. Mucus is a bully and likes to wreak havoc when our bodies are weak. He likes to mess with Phlegm and loves to screw with Snot.
Sometimes he makes Snot sweat resulting in a continuous flow of liquid Snot running down our nostrils and on to our upper lip. Other times he causes Snot to dry up like an old piece of fruit, blocking the nasal passages and causing us to breathe through our mouths. None of the Mucus family hang out in our mouths unless we hack them up, then it's ... don't swallow ... spit! God knows what enters our lungs when we breathe through our mouths with none of the Mucuses around. During all this, cousin Phlegm is all eff’d up, dazed, confused and walking into lung walls. So we wheeze, cough, spit, sneeze, blow, sniffle and cry. Well, not me, but some people cry.

My personal problem with Mr. Mucus was this …
Just out of the hospital, I couldn’t breathe too well and I was chilled all the time.
Because I was cold, we ran the heat, which is a forced hot air system.
The hot air caused a low humidity level in our home.
Mr. Mucus dropped by to say hello.
My wife had me breathing steam from pots of boiling water with a dishtowel over my head. After a two-minute session, feeling like steamed broccoli, I was able to blow dried fruit out of my nose, making it easy to breathe again.

Mr. Mucus also tickled my throat and caused me with my broken ribs to flop around on the floor after every cough. We finally chased Mr. Mucus away after buying a $175 humidifier.

"Joe, it seems to be raining in the kitchen."
"I told you we bought a good one!"

Pain Killer or Killer Pain

I guess for the longest time I was lucky.
For many years I lived without much physical pain.
My recent incident with a ladder disrupted that run.

A few Sundays ago … Pain said …
"Hello, Joe. Where have you been?"
Since then pain’s been like an unwelcomed guest who just won’t leave.
I’ve tried to be subtle.
"Honey, is it time for my pill yet?"
I tried being stern.
"OMG! What the hell did I do to deserve this pain? Kill me now!"

I never imagined what broken ribs would feel like.
At first it hurt when I took deep breaths, made a sudden movement or reached too high to grab the potato chips off the top shelf in the cabinet.
I was uncomfortable lying down on the bed so I had to sleep upright on the couch.
It was painful when I had to pee. Let me elaborate on that a bit. The actual peeing didn’t hurt but getting up from the couch to get to the bathroom did.

My biggest problem was not the broken ribs or the other bodily bruises resulting from my fall. The excruciating pain I had to deal with was caused by a stupid cough that developed … the next day.
Pain said …
"Hey, Joe. Let’s not waste those narcotics the hospital gave you … TAKE THIS!"
(… then suddenly in my throat) … Pain tickled me.
"Cough."
"Yeeeeeeow! $%#!&"
"Cough. Cough."
"Ohhhhhhh! Mutha-fudger! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

This went on for a week.
I think I broke a couple of ribs on my other side trying not to cough.

I would feel Pain start to tickle.
I’d hold my breath. I’d brace myself.
My wife readied herself as well. I think that each time I coughed she covered her eyes.
"Joe, hold a pillow. It will help!"
"Sweetie, I’ve got the damn pillow, it’s between me and the wall I’m running into. Damn! I can’t hold it any longer!"
"Cough."
"Ohhhhhhh! Fuque me! Ow! Eye-yie-eye!"
"Cough."
"Crap! Huff-huff-huff. Yikes! Jesus Christmas! Ow!"

Finally the cough has subsided.
Maybe now my ribs could finally heal.
Thank God I never had to sneeze!
Amen.

Ladder Safety 101

Never push or pull anything sideways while on a ladder.
This puts a side load on the ladder and can cause it to tip out from under you.

No … That’s not really me on that stretcher … but …
If my wife wasn’t so busy being franticly worried she may have thought to run in the house, grab the camera and get a shot for my blog. Picture that poor bastard above wearing a sweatshirt and that would be me.

"Sir?" What is your name?
"Joe. My name is Joe."
This was really a good sign. This I knew.
Though the EMT didn’t know it. How could he?
It’s not like he knew my name was really Joe.
He just believed me. If I really didn’t remember my name, and guessed … "Rodney" … I think he would have from then on called me "Rodney".

"Rodney, can you tell me where it hurts?"
"All over, but mainly it’s my chest. It's sort of caved-in."
Now, I’m not kidding you on the caved in part.
I distinctly remember flying through the air, landing on top of the ladder, having the wind knocked out of me and not being able to breathe in any air. I thought it was over.
My wife was telling me to stay calm and breathe. She’d be right back after calling 911. Laying there waiting her return. I was finally able to take a breath. My mind then began to assess the damage done to the rest of me. My arms were folded in front of me as if they were trying to keep my chest from falling apart.
Hmmmm. My legs were moving. My head seemed okay. My arms were doing a good job holding my chest together. I wondered what would happen if I let go. I released the hold I had on myself and tried to look down. I had on a sweatshirt and really couldn’t see anything.
I felt around and then I realized the center of my chest was a deep cavity. The ladder had karate-chopped my chest.

"Joe, don’t worry. Stay still. An ambulance is on it’s way?"
I was still gasping for air.
"Honey, feel my chest. I think it caved in."
I could hear the sirens getting closer. She held my hand and we waited.

Back in the ambulance heading for the hospital ...
"Rodney, can you tell me what happened?"
Still gasping for air, I explained.
At the hospital, the usual questions...
What is your name?
Do you have an email address?
Who got your vote for president?
How attached are you to the sweatshirt we're about to cut in half?

There was an x-ray, a CAT scan and heroin (or it may have been morphine) I can’t remember which.
Then came the nurse administrator with the news.
"Joe. Your wife assured my your name isn’t Rodney and it looks like you have two broken ribs."
" OMG! I have two broken ribs? Now what?"
"We’re sorry, there is really nothing we can do for you."
"WHAT? Am I gonna die? You can’t do anything?"
"Rodney, Sorry ... Joe. Don’t be silly! We’re sending you home with a prescription for some pain medication and you should be fine in about eight weeks. Here is some info to take home with you. Take care. Buh-bye."
"Huh? What? Thank you."

Less than four hours after my fall, I was back at home.
I was doped up, in pain and behind on the yard work.
Since then, I’ve been lost in TV land.
I wish there was a screen saver for the eyes.
Everywhere I look there is the imprint of my flat-screen TV.

Hanging in My Closet

"Good morning, Joe. Are you here to pick up?"
"Well, no, I am not. I picked up yesterday. But I do have a question."
Apparently, I have a problem.
No … not with my dry cleaners.
Mine is a mental problem, or so I’m led to believe.

"So, how can I help you, Joe? What is your question?"
“Can you tell me if the shirts I picked up yesterday were dry cleaned or laundered?”
"Sure, Joe. Just give me a second and I’ll look it up."
I usually have my shirts laundered instead of dry-cleaned.
I get them on a hanger and lightly starched.

“Joe, I checked and they were laundered as you like them.”
"They were? Hmmmmm … that’s odd."
"Odd, Joe, how so?”
So I explained.
When I took the newly cleaned shirts home and went to hang them with my other clean shirts, they were facing in the wrong direction. My shirts all get hung with the open part of the hanger hook facing the back wall of my closet making the fronts of all my shirts face to the right. The newest bunch all faced to the left. I could face the newest shirts to the right but then the hangers would be hooked on the closet rod toward me instead of towards the back wall like all the rest of the hangers in my closet including the ones holding my pants, sweaters and tee shirts.

And yes, I hang my tee shirts. Not the tee shirts I wear under my dress shirts, those are folded neatly and placed in the right forward corner of the second draw down of my dresser. The tee shirts in my closet are the ones that have words and pictures on them. The fronts of all those tee shirts face to the left (but that’s because they hang on the right side of the closet pole.) My wife has a difficult time hanging and facing my tee shirts properly when she pulls them from the clothes dryer. I often have to reverse them on the hangers before I bring them to my closet. I like to bring them up myself because she just hangs them wherever she finds room and sometimes with the hangers facing the wrong way making the fronts of the tee shirts face the wrong way and it all gets just too friggin’ confusing to me and stresses me out, then I complain and then she gets pissed and tells me I have a problem … but I don’t. I just like order … and I know she knows how to do it right so I accuse her of just trying to aggravate me and wonder what I did to deserve this stress and it goes right back to where she calls me nuts again. But I’m not!

"Joe, please, calm yourself."
"I’m sorry. So why are the shirts facing the wrong way?"
"Joe, we use two laundry companies. If you drop your shirts off on a Saturday, which you did, they go to a company that hangs them that way. I’m sorry, I will note that you don’t want them done by them anymore."
"You will? That would be great!"
"Anything else I can do for you, Joe?"
"Well, may I ask … Do many others complain when their shirts are hung in the wrong direction?"
"Actually, no Joe. You’re the only one."

Back at home, as I turn the six newly cleaned shirts around on their hangers to make everything right, I can’t help but ask myself …
"Hmmmm … I wonder if my wife put them up to this?"

Relationship Guru

"Joe, can I ask your opinion on something?"
Recently a female friend of mine was having a bit of trouble understanding the man in her life. After discussing the situation with her female friends she discovered nothing new or helpful. Rather than just giving up, she felt it wise to consult a male friend for a different perspective.
I happened to be in the vicinity.
"Joe, I want you to be honest with me."
At this point I’m wondering if she realizes that what I have to offer is practically wisdom, (not quite wisdom … but practically wisdom).
Even with that in mind, I still agreed to answer her questions "honestly".
"Joe, How do I know if I'm the one for him?"
“Well, he's tolerated you so far, right?”
"Joe, How do I best care for him?"
“A little bit better than you would care for a kitten, puppy or your shoe collection.”
"No, Joe, I mean how do I get him to take better care of himself?"
“You can’t. Something has to hurt enough for him to care.”
"Joe, how do I know what he really wants?"
“It’s best to just ask him. But whatever he answers don’t believe him … Unless he says he wants either more sex or less questions.”
"Joe, how do I get his attention?"
“My wife usually hides the remote, grabs the mouse, calls my cell phone or just yells at me.”
"Joe, how do I get him to think about the future?"
"Marry him. He’ll certainly start contemplating the future. Be aware though, he will be worrying about it."
"Joe, how do I really know if he’s the one?"
"Well? Can you tolerate him?"
"Joe, is it possible you’re right?"
"Anything is possible when you don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Joe, I’m glad we had this conversation. Thank you."
"Oh, please! Don’t mention it. I mean it ... to anyone."

Questioning Tourists

CLICK HERE TO READ ABOUT THE SALEM WITCH TRIALS

“Hello, welcome to our restaurant. Would you like a table for two?”
“Oh, I was wondering if we could ask you a question.”
“Sure. My name is Joe. How can I help you?”
"Well, first of all, may my wife use your restroom?
“Certainly. Miss … it’s straight down on your left.”
“Go ahead Judith, I’ll be right here waiting for you. So … Joe, is it?”
“Yes sir. That’s correct. I’m Joe.”
"Yes, so can you tell me … back in 1692, were there any twin witches?"
“I’m sorry sir, I don’t know the answer to that. Why do you ask?”
“Well, Joe, because I was thinking if there were twin witches back then, they wouldn't have been able to tell which witch was which.”
“Ah … that’s very funny sir. You got me.”
“Oh good, here comes my wife. One other question?”
“Sure. Why not? Go ahead.”
“May I also use your restroom?”
“No you may not! Ha! Just kidding! Go ahead.”

Now the wife …
“Thank you, mister Joe. Did my husband tell you his stupid twin witch joke?”
“Well, yes miss, he did. He is quite the jokester.”
“I hate that he jokes about such things.”
“So you know the seriousness of it all?”
“Well, yes Joe, I do. I’ve read a lot about the subject.”
“Have you?”
“I have. Do you know researchers have found a common link while studying the intelligence of the Salem witches?
“No miss, I don’t think I’ve ever read anything like that.”
“It’s true … They were all good spellers.”
*crickets*
“Oh, here comes my husband. Well, thanks again, Joe. Buh-bye!”
“Hey! Wait! You haven’t even looked at our menu!”
Freakin’ tourists!

Bee's Musings Photo Post

Bee from Bee's Musings sent out a request.
The idea is to post a picture I decided not to use on a post.
This was close to halloween so I tucked the picture between some October posts.

Scary Bikers

Guess where the 2008 MDA Halloween Motorcycle Run ran through...
That's right! Salem Massachusetts.
Our restaurant was packed with bikers.
The last time I saw that much leather was at a Dominatrix party back in the summer of 1973.
Here are a few pics of those in attendance.




Me Yelling: "Hey! Where's your buccaneers?"
Him Yelling Back: "Under my buccan helmet jerk-off!"

These poor bikers never finished.

In Our Bedroom

“Alright honey, before you come into the bedroom I want you to close your eyes and don’t peek.”
“Joe, I’m so excited. My eyes are closed. Am I close enough yet?”
“Yes dear, two more steps. Good. Now keep your eyes closed. I want you to feel it first.”
"Okay Joe. Guide my hand. I promise not to peek … Oh my!"
“Well, how does it feel? Press down on it if you like.”
“Wow, Joe, it’s really hard. It’s not like it was before.”
“I would say everything in the ad was true. It should stay hard for a long time. Are you ready to open your eyes to see it?”
"Yes, can I open them now?"
“Sure, go ahead and open them now … Ta-Da!”
“Joe, it looks really big. It definitely seems bigger.”
“Well hon, you’ll surely be sitting a bit higher than you did before.”
“Joe, I can’t wait until tonight. I want to get on it now.”
“Sweetie, you don’t have to wait. Climb right on top of it and try it out.”
“OMG, This feels unbelievable! I love it!”
“I agree honey, this feels fantastic.”
“Joe, I want to try it on my side and on my stomach.”
“Of course sweetie, any positions you want.”
“Joe, I’m really glad we saw that Sleepy's ad.”
“Me too, honey. Me too.”

We just love our new Simmons Beautyrest Firm Plush Mattress.
Thank you Christopher Columbus for generating that half-price sale.

No Glass

My wife is very much set in her ways.
Whenever she feels like a beer ... her request is always the same.
"I'll have a Bud Light bottle ... ah ... and no glass"
Why won't she take the damn glass?
Why must she insist on drinking from the bottle?
Why always Bud Light?

Where I work ... we sell only our own brewed beers.
We go there for dinner.
"I'll have a Bud Light bottle ... ah ... and no glass."
Jeeeezus! Is she kidding me?
"Honey ... We make our own beer here."
"Then I'll have whatever is close to a Bud Light bottle ... ah ... and no glass."
"Honey ... all the beers are on tap ... there are no bottles."
She gets upset and angry.
"Then I guess I'll have some friggin' wine! WTH! ... ah ... and no glass."
*HELP!*

Zombies for Dinner

“Hello. And how are you guys doing today?”
“We’re dying to eat. Do you serve zombies?”
“No, I’m sorry. But we do serve burgers and pizza.”
So, it's begun ... October in Salem, Massachusetts. Yesterday more than a hundred zombies walked the streets of Salem.
What’s next?
Well, while witches are certainly not uncommon in Salem ...
Yesterday … zombies.
Tomorrow ... vampires and goblins and ghosts, oh my!

Peter, one of our waiters, making friends with zombies.

Looks like more to come ...

Feeling Lucky

“Hello handsome. Where ya goin'?”
“Huh? Do I know you?”
“Ya buyin’ me somethin’ good?”
“I’m sorry. I really don’t think we know each other.”
So, I stopped to get gas on my way home from work … I went into the mini-mart because I was feelin’ lucky. I’m standing by the newspaper racks, coin in one hand and a Lottery Scratch Ticket in the other. As I wished for a million, I began to scratch. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn around … and there she is.

“Oh baby, don’t you remember me?”
I stepped back, looked at her intently … but … nothing.
“Sorry. I don’t. What’s your name?”
“What’s my name? Ooooo baby … I really like you. Buy me somethin'.”
I look around. What the hell is this? Is she putting me on?
Something’s not right. I detected a faint smell of alcohol. I know it wasn’t from me. Maybe she’s drunk?
“Lady, you okay? I’m sure we don’t know each other. You must have me mixed up with someone else.”
“No, baby. I know you. Let’s go out.”
First of all she wasn’t my type. I don’t even have a type. My wife won’t let me have a type. And … Go out? Go out where?
“Listen. I don’t know you, and I can’t go out. I have to go home.”
“Okay, baby. Let’s go home. We can have some fun. I like you. Buy me somethin’.”

What the hell does she want me to buy her?
She wants to come home with me?
Yeah, that'll go over big.
”Look who I brought home honey.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know … but she likes me.”

Now, I’m looking for the store clerk who is busy with a customer. As soon as he was free I walked over to him with my admirer close behind. I stop … She bumps up against me grabbing my arm. I wiggle away giving her a stern look.
She doesn’t seem to mind.
“Sir, do you know this woman?”
He looks at me without answering and just shrugs his shoulders.
Then she steps forward and says to the clerk …
“He’s my baby, ain’t he cute? We’re going home now after he buys me somethin’ … ain’t that right baby?”
The clerk looks back at me again … and again … shrugs his shoulders. I return the shrug and then turn to my new friend and say …
“Yeah baby! That’s right … Now go pick out whatever you want.”
She looks at me ever so lovingly and says …
“Okay baby. Now you wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
She headed down one of the aisles.
I headed out the door.
As I pulled out of the station I looked back inside.
She was talking to the clerk …
He was shrugging his shoulders.

Ironically … This all happened because I was feeling lucky.
And … No … I didn’t win anything.

What to Do

“Joe, What do you feel like doing today?”
“I don’t know, honey. What do you feel like doing?”
I’ve been very busy at work as you may already know. We’ve attended weddings the past two weekends. A day in front of the TV, just relaxing, was at the top of my list of thing I’d like to do. But I know better than to show my cards too early.

“Joe, I have a few ideas. Would you like to hear them?”
“I’m not sure. Will I like your ideas?”
You see what I just did? I answered her question with a question. I used to be corrected all the time for doing that. But I’m not little JoJo any more. I’m setting her up to re-think her ideas before she expects me to answer. Hopefully she will not end up suggesting the things she knows I don’t care to do.

“Joe, stop answering my question with a question. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to do that? Now, I would really like to get those blinds hung in the bedroom.”
Crap! … not those stupid blinds. I hate this shit. I’d have to use a ladder, use friggin’ screwdrivers … I’ll have to make holes for screws so I’ll need that pointy thing … I’ll have to struggle because all the work is up high … so I know my arms will get tired … I'll have to measure stuff … line things up … I always screw these projects up and then have to do it over and over again … never getting it right … settling for a half ass job because I don’t know what I’m doing. And did I really type s-h-i-t? I need to turn this around. Ive got to come up with something quick.

“Hon, it’s nice out. How about going one last time to the beach before it gets too cold?”
“Hmmmm? Yes, that's a good idea, Joe. We can go for a nice long walk.”
Long walk? I was thinking more like lounging by the water … doing the Sunday crossword … napping … that kind of day at the beach. Jeez, doesn’t she remember the open bar at the wedding and all those rum and cokes? I need to recuperate not exercise.

“Sweetheart, how about we catch up on some shows that we DVR’ed?”
“Joe, how about we catch up on the laundry?”
“Honey bunch, why don’t we relax and later go out for dinner?”
“Joe, why don't we go food shopping and then cook something?”
“Sugerplum, we can go for a drive.”
“Joe, my love, we can clean the house.”
“Baby doll, we could cuddle on the couch.”
“Cuddle? That's a great idea! And ... you can watch football.”
“Muffin, We can … huh? … What? … Cuddle and football?”
“Yes Joe ... After I help you put up the blinds.”
“And we can order pizza too?”
“If we get them both up without you breaking anything.”
Damn she’s good!

Busy Busy Busy

“Joe, where have you been?”
Don,t worry. Everything is fine.
I've just been working long hours getting ready for this ...


And them ...


I expect to see these lovely ladies as well ...


We're preparing to deal with the likes of these ...


You can see we're really into the spirit as well.
This is inside our restaurant.


Here's a little more ...



The next month is going to be a tough one.
Wish me luck.