Tag Archives: humor

The Hungry Commuter

On a very hungry day of the week, my friend CM was driving home from work on the northbound freeway between Goleta and Buellton when she was passed by a California Highway Patrol car at the precise moment she happened to be biting into a burger.
He pulled into the lane behind her and switched on his siren lights.
She safely stored the burger in front of the speedometer until she found a decent spot to pull over.
The officer stepped up to her window and asked, “Ma’am, do you know how fast you were going?”
CM glanced under her dashboard.
“Well, no… I couldn’t tell because the burger was covering the numbers…”
The officer told her he was going to have to write her a ticket and went back to his car.
Just then a strong ocean breeze came upon them and swept one of her food wrappers out the window.
She watched in despair through the rear view mirror as the wrapper stopped every few seconds only to then roll away some more.
Not only was she facing a speeding fine, but now, if the officer saw the wrapper, she would also be facing something like a $400 littering fine.
The implications were overwhelming.
Should she risk endangering her life by stepping out of her car next to the busy freeway traffic just to pick up a silly wrapper?
Would the officer think she was going to attack him?
Should she pretend nothing had happened and pray the officer didn’t notice the wrapper rolling by?
As the officer stepped back up to CM’s window to hand her the ticket, she saw the wrapper lodge itself behind a prickly plant.
The officer asked if there was anything else she wished to tell him.
“Well yes…” she said, “Would you mind handing me that wrapper that just flew out of my car?”
“Where is it?”
“Behind us, lodged in that prickly plant.”
“That one there?”
“Yes.”
“Ok.”
So he handed her the wrapper and sent her on her way, with clear instructions not to put burgers in front of her speedometer in the future.

Equals Mortified 

Idk why i feel like i need to explain this right right now of all times.
I sometimes remember- i should explain this!
And then i forget.

Many many years ago, when the internet was AOL, i used the = sign invariably to represent eyes, the way people today use the : sign.
Some of you may remember that once famous show “equals 3” as in “=3”.
WELL i always thought it was a cat, you know, with the eyes and the chubby cheeks…?
I used to sign my emails that way.
Then one day, not sure why, my husband saw it and said, Why are you typing penis?
Me: What do you mean?
Him: That emoticon. It’s a penis.
Me: No it’s not. It’s a cat. You know, like the YouTube show. Equals Cat.
Him: *tilts head* Yeah i guess in a really innocent person’s mind that could be a cat but on the show, it’s a penis.

Thus i came to find out i had been signing my emails “Have a great day! Penis, Ave.”

World Introvert Day

World Introvert Day may be one of a handful of holidays i celebrate:

Jan. 2nd – World Introvert Day (as of today, when i realized it existed)

Second Sunday in March – When the clocks all get distorted and the day has 25 hours

March 20th/ Spring Equinox – When i sacrifice a virgin to the sun

April 1st – April Fool’s Day (and the following day when i meet bail)

April 7th – National Beer Day (US)

May 25th – National Wine Day (US)

June 2nd – National Doughnut Day (US)

July 7th – World Chocolate Day

Sept. 10th – World Suicide Day (or is it suicide prevention? i think i’ve been doing it wrong)

Oct. 29th – National Cat Day (US)

And probably my wedding anniversary ought to be up ^ there somewhere.

So to celebrate World Introvert Day, i will give you a sneak peek into the interior of my amazing mind, because let’s face it- i am awesome.

(1) Everything, absolutely everything, has a song or can have a song. My mind is the stage of a never-ending musical.

(2) I always picture worse-case scenarios. Chances are, if we’ve ever spoken, i was simultaneously picturing at least one form in which you might have horrifyingly died in a sudden freak accident while listening to you. And usually the more i care about you, the more horrific deaths i picture. With a choir singing in the background. But if you’re a boring conversationalist or if you’re explaining something important, then i just picture a chimp with an accordion on a unicycle, or those flying elephants from Fantasia.

(3) I eat all day. If an hour passes without me putting something into my mouth, i will get fidgety. If five hours pass without me consuming anything, i will get a terrible tension headache and all hell will break loose. This is why i always carry a whip with me. (Well- the other thing too).

(4) I tend to accidentally speed read and then when i realize it, if i actually want to go back and conscientiously read an entire long paragraph- it can take me between 15-30 minutes because i will continuously get distracted. I attribute this to an excess of awful bad modern authors and i do not believe i would get distracted in the least bit if only they would

(5) On the other hand, when i remember something i read, i remember all the numbers involved and the font that was used.

(6) I have very vivid dreams which are mostly about how much people love me, but it’s always people whose faces i don’t recognize or can’t see. I think they are my subscribers 😉 and i also dream lots of meowing cats. I often try to wake up only to find myself in another dream and will go on like this for usually five or six dreams. It is very scary as i think one day i will give up waking up and just stay on the wrong dream level. Maybe this is the wrong dream level. Maybe i’m in a coma right now. Maybe it’s you who’s in a coma. I bet it’s you. I just want you to know- hang in there- i hope no one pulls the plug on you, and i still own the copyright to these posts.

Thank you for journeying into the Interior of My Magnificent Mind (that’s  what i’m calling the ride now). (The ride is the blog post). NO REFUNDS; the time you waste here is wasted forever.

Why I’ll Start Writing Again

Whoa, I just read what I wrote almost a year ago– That’s some dark stuff there.

I didn’t remember having written that, but looking back I understand what was going on.

That’s the power of blogging.

Well the old me is back, the real me, the one who uses a pseudo-pseudonym and wants to write 24/7, even when I’m dreaming.

The truth is I never really stopped writing; it was just very dark and lonely and unsuitable for this blog’s audience.

So it was on Tumblr.

Naturally.

I don’t want to go into details about the past, but my marriage is as good as it’ll ever be.

I am less interdependent so if that relationship goes down I think I might skip a beat but probably not 2 and definitely not 3.

Now I no longer commute for work. My boss got me an office a few blocks from my home, so I could concentrate on sales, and I no longer have to wait for coworkers to leave the room before I can write.

I’m all alone here, just me and the Internetz.

And the phone. That rings every now and then but I’m not sure how it works. I think it’s trying to tell me something.

Oh! My faithful subscribers. How I’ve missed thee. If only you could know the anguish our separation has wretched me with. I shalt never leave thee again!

Unless I die. In which case, leaving thee is entirely involuntary and should not be held against me.

Unless it’s suicide.

If I kill myself you can be mad at me. But not if it’s accidental, like an overdose. Stuff loses its strength over time. They don’t make it like they used to.

Anyway, let me tell you what my office is like.

It is on the second story behind an art gallery which sells weird ethnic art, like the African pieces my boss had at his office. I imagine that subconsciously it largely influenced his decision to choose this location.

There is a winery next next door and the mother of the owners is a new friend of mine from my church. My friend also owns the vineyard so in a way it makes me feel special somehow even though it has little to do with me.

In my office, there is a tiny window out of which one can view happy little people- “kids” i think they are called- playing in a park-like setting, around a beautiful fountain surrounded by red and yellow sycamore trees.

The window has bars over it in the old Spanish style and is a small reminder that whilst i am at work, i am to think of myself as a prisoner and partake in none of those joys which i may observe below.

My one point of social interaction is when i walk to the post office every day, or when i get lucky, the FedEx drop off.

The clerks at the post office know me now and they are like 100 times nicer than the ones in DOWNTOWN SANTA BARBARA- yes, I HOPE YOU ARE READING THIS you mean clerk who made shipping packages from there a living hell.

(Just that one clerk though- all the other ones were nice, especially Daniel and Michael. I think they are vets). (War vets not animal vets otherwise their career counselors should have told them).

Everyday the bell at the post office tower chimes out a song. Lately it’s been a lot of Christmas music, which some of us find tastefully offensive. But mostly it’s old American classics, the same kind that used to play in my 65 Mustang’s AM radio.

My office kind of has more space than i need and no walls. My boss let me have his old glass desk so i need to rearrange the computer stuff onto that but i’ve been meaning to do it for 6 weeks now and i just can’t seem to bring myself to do it.

I have what they call lazyphoria.

The office is very cold but it has a brand new climate system which no one knows how to program for heating, only for cooling.

Sometimes i bring my guitar but i can’t play very loud because i’m afraid the other tenants will hear me and ask me to perform for them. Then my boss might find out i’m using the office for concertos and then he’d want to get me a bigger office. But i like this one just fine.

There is a skylight on the ceiling.

Well duh, it’s not like there would be a skylight on the floor… *clears throat*

I guess that counts as a window too. I can see some form of rusty pipe and sometimes clouds, but today the sky is blue- like a tepid sky-blue.

Once, down the hall, the hatch to the roof was open and I climbed the ladder because no one was around and the hatch was open, beckoning for someone to climb up through it. There were only more pipes and roof gravel.

Downer down the hall there are a couple of architects who mostly just look stuck up but are actually quite decent, i imagine, and a married couple who are masseuses, (am i saying that right?) and they are just about the nicest people one could ever meet.

Downstairs there is the shared girls’ room, which ought to have but does not have a mirror, because i assume the other tenants are too ugly an no one wants to remind them of that.

Someone is building a tapas bar so i have that to look forward to.

Perhaps then i shall make a friend or two.

But knowing me, i’ll probably just observe them and then write about them.

So now you have something to look forward to too!

 

 

 

 

 

I Presume You Think I’m Stupid

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"A- I presume you know that .25 is #1/4

Dear Mrs. Upper Micro Management,

No, I did not know that .25 would be referring to 1/4, despite getting an A in my 4th grade math class.
Even so, I still managed to graduate from college and accurately calculate all the invoicing for both your businesses for the last two years.
In fact, I was going to work very hard today,  but I have decided my time would be better spent grasping my head around the concept that .25 is 1/4.
That must be why 25 cents is called a quarter!!!
Thanks for the enlightening post-it note.
Working with you is such an enriching experience.

Sincerely,
Your Eager Employee

PS- I notice you throw away the magazines in reception that don’t have white people on the cover.
I will speak to Sports Illustrated, National Geographic and People en Español to request special custom covers for our particular office.

PPS- I presume .5 is 1/2?

The “Stop Blogging” Award

Are you an amateur poet who recently took up writing as a result of a breakup?

Do you see yourself as the protagonist of your own movie script?

Are you passionate about social issues that you research on Facebook but are otherwise oblivious to?

Are you in the habit of liking every post without reading it just to get more page visits on your own blog?

Do you blindfold yourself and then type random characters at your keyboard for several minutes?

If you or someone you know identifies with any of these, please nominate them for my new award:

The Stop Blogging Award.

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This award is designed to give recognition to all sorts of authors, but mostly just the bad ones.

If you’re not sure if you qualify, feel free to private message me and I will pretend to be happy to read what you write.

After all, isn’t that what the WordPress community is all about?

Hypothetical Avocado

Hypothetical Avocado
You’re my very best friend.
In the breakfast or in the dinner
You’re more than just make pretend.
I can spread you on
Tortillas
Or I can spread you on
Bread.
I can spread you
On chinchillas
Or even on my own head!
Hypothetical Avocado
Don’t ever dare leave my side.
Many fruits come and go.
They are mere passers-by.
I can’t spread them
On potatoes,
I can’t spread them
On rice.
Hypothetical Avocado!
You’re the
Apple
Of my eyes.

Today On The Bus

Welcome to my new blog section titled, “Today On The Bus,” where you can get a first hand in depth view second hand general overview of what the Ventura public transit system is really like in this quaint metropoli.

Today’s story consists of two and a half characters: the Mademoiselle, the Gentleman, and the Chauffeur (the Chauffeur is more of an extra, although he plays a vital role in the scenery.)

Ok, ok let’s get started.

Today on the bus, Mademoiselle Passenger was having trouble getting the wrinkled dollar bills into the ticket machine.
(Not that the machine actually gives one a ticket… We just don’t know what else to call it.)
(Let’s call it Dollar-Gobbler for the sake of this story).

Mademoiselle Passenger was having trouble getting the wrinkled dollar bills into the Dollar-Gobbler.
She must admit she’s been a bit apprehensive of it since the city replaced the old machines.
She liked the old Dollar-Gobblers way better.
These new ones seem to try to eat her fingers.
The old ones were often broken and she could ride the bus for free.
But with the latest high-tech Dollar-Gobblers installed, she has no choice but to pay.
I suppose she could drive her car to work but then she wouldn’t have time to read.

Anyway, the new Dollar-Gobbler made a horrifying screeching sound as it refused to gobble her third dollar bill and took a nibble at her index finger.
Mademoiselle Passenger blushed and apologized to the people in the long line behind her.
Monsieur Gentleman lifted his backpack from the seat next to his as she walked down the aisle.
She accepted the invitation with a humble smile, mumbling the obvious, “May I sit here?” as the handsome gentleman nodded.

Now, Mademoiselle Passenger doesn’t generally sit next to men, but the female bus partners were taken, and this was the cleanest looking male.

She thought about making chit chat but hadn’t had time to use her mouthwash that morning.
So she read while he scrolled down his phone screen and now and then scribbled on a tiny notebook.
In such circumstances, half an hour went by.

Mademoiselle Passenger was self conscious about her face, having not had time to do her makeup that morning.
She wondered why she cared.
Just because Monsieur Gentleman was handsome in no way meant she had any chance with him, even if she’d had makeup on.
Then she felt warmness all along her left arm.
What’s this?
Monsieur Gentleman was leaning on her.
She thought about leaning back but then remembered the mouthwash.
Hm.
Strange feeling that someone of the opposite sex actually wants to be physically close to you.
She let the moment live itself out.
Five or ten minutes went by when Monsieur Gentleman seemed to have realized his posture wasn’t entirely appropriate and he sat up straight.
(Either that or he also took note of the mouthwash).

(Enter Chauffeur).
“Smart n Final. Smart n Final, get ready!” announced the chauffeur in a sing-song voice, 20 minutes later, as the bus slowed down.

“Excuse me,” said Monsieur Gentleman, “This is my stop.”

Mademoiselle Passenger bent sideways on her seat and smiled ever so politely as she was too lazy to get up to let him through.

Will these two passengers ever meet again?
Will Mademoiselle Passenger learn to manage her time better and use the mouthwash?
Or will it not make a difference because she is moving and will no longer ride this bus?
Tune in next week for another exciting semi-exciting interesting saga of “Today On The Bus.”

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Things you see from the bus.

Conversations With Brain

Otherwise known as the boring chronicles of a dying sex drive.

Body: “You over think.”

Brain: “I have time to kill.”

Body: “Kill it doing something fun.”

Brain: “He doesn’t like it when I wake him.”

Body: “Maybe he will this time.”

Brain: “Memory blockers haven’t been working these last couple days.”

Body: “Who cares. Use him.”

Brain: “It’s the other way around; he’s using us.”

Body: “I don’t mind.”

Brain: “That line you noticed under our eye tonight? All him. Trust me. You mind.”

Body: “Can’t you at least think of someone attractive? You know, what about that one guy we used to like?”

Brain: “Doesn’t work anymore. He didn’t like us, remember?”

Body: “YOU. He didn’t like you. I’m pretty sure he liked me.”

Brain: “I’m not going to argue this. But I had my doubts.”

Body: “That’s the problem. You second guess everything. Why do you have to be so damn picky?”

Brain: “My pickiness is keeping us alive and healthy. You should be proud of yourself. You’re not like most female bodies around you.”

Body: “There you go again imposing your values on me. Just give me something. Anything. A fantasy. You know, Bear Grylls looks pretty hot without his t-shirt.”

Brain: “He’s married. You get turned off by married guys.”

Body: “Well, yeah, if you bring it up.”

Brain: “Plus he’s got kids.”

Body: “I get the point.”

(Silence.)

Brain: “Just go to sleep.”

Body: “I’m not ready yet. Can’t you at least think of chocolate or some sort of carnal pleasure?”

Brain: “Chocolate. Chocolate Kisses. M&Ms. Organic Trader Joe’s dark chocolate.”

Body: “Mmm I’m drooling. Let’s go get some from the kitchen table.”

Brain: “Are you kidding me? No, we’ll make noise. We’ll wake him.”

Body: “It’ll be a start.”

Brain: “Do you really want to put more sugar into us so we can spend another two hours worrying about our sex drive?”

Body: “My sex drive is fine. It’s all your traumas that are giving us trouble.”

Brain: “This would be a lot easier if you were attracted to women.”

Body: “I refuse to have this conversation again. You need to accept me for who I am.”

Brain: “FINE. I’ll shut up now. That’s what you seem to want.”

Body: “I’m telling you what I want! Oh never mind, you never listen to me.”

Brain: “Ok, I’ll shut up.”

Body: “Shut up then.”

Brain: “But it’s because I want to shut up, not because of you.”

Body: “You just keep telling yourself that.”

Brain: “Goodnight.”

Body: “I already told you I’M NOT SLEEPY.”