Tuesday, June 30, 2009

M.J.'s Cause of Death?

Apparently, a vast collection of the tens of...tens of people who read this blog are positively apoplectic at the thought that I haven't turned the recent demise of Michael Jackson into a yuckfest.

Hmmm...what kind of person do you think I am? There are thousands upon thousands of people who suddenly realize that their lives are not complete without Michael Jackson making a hermit of himself in horribly overpriced housing. How could I possibly make light of their pain?


For some reason, I couldn't help but be reminded of this classic little story, reproduced here as submitted to the June 2009 issue of Reader's Digest by Hank Chawansky:

In surgery for a heart attack, a middle-aged woman has a vision of God by her bedside. "Will I die?" she asks.

God says, "No. You have 30 more years to live."

With 30 years to look forward to, she decides to make the best of it. So since she's in the hospital, she gets breast implants, liposuction, a tummy tuck, hair transplants, and collagen injections in her lips. She looks great!

The day she's discharged, she exits the hospital with a swagger, crosses the street, and is immediately hit by an ambulance and killed.

Up in heaven, she sees God. "You said I had 30 more years to live," she complains.

"That's true," says God.

"So what happened?"

God shrugs, "I didn't recognize you."

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Almost the News III

Woman, 83, Stabbed at Bowling Alley -- An 83-year-old woman repeatedly thrust a knife toward a bowling alley today, causing only minor injuries to herself when she missed the bowling alley but hit her thigh.

Man Gets 3 Years in Meth-Related Fire -- An East Grand Forks, Minnesota, man recently ran into a blazing meth lab and retrieved a treasured possession: a three-year calendar.

Pakistan Braces for More Taliban Bombs -- Quite a trade was made today in the Middle East as Pakistani orthodontists swapped their services for additional explosive devices from Taliban terrorists.

Biker Killed After Hitting Deer -- A minor incident of bullying soon turned into deadly mob violence as an angry crowd of Bambi's relatives sought and found revenge for a motorcyclist's thoughtless act of punching a 7-point buck.

Police Break Up Two Prostitution Rings -- However, this reporter is still trying to figure out why law enforcement officers were telling jokes to prostitutes in the first place.

Hillary Clinton Breaks Elbow in Fall -- And with this single headline, we have gone from reporting the news to predicting it.

Terror Attacks Down Globally -- A wave of fear has swept over the supply of goose feathers around the world. Consequently, experts expect an exceptional rise in pillow prices. That's right...down will be up.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Food to Die For

This past Wednesday, Beloved had her left knee torn in two, drilled into, sanded off, and stapled on. But this blog post isn't about that. This blog post is about MY experiences in the hospital's cafeteria. [But let's pause here for just a bit and consider the opening three words of this paragraph: "This past Wednesday." Doesn't that phrase strike you as being a bit odd? This-past? Is it this or is it past? This implies something that is present; something that is here and being referred to. Past doesn't imply any of that. I'm just sayin'...]

Two things worthy of note from my cafeteria excursions:

Menu True Truth: The receipts at this particular cafeteria are fairly detailed. Instead of just saying, "Meal--$8.49," they list each item purchased. They are also wincingly honest in making that list. For instance, instead of saying that I had whipped red potatoes, skin on, with a trace of chives, my receipt said "Starch."

Dole 100% Apple Juice: You never can tell what you might learn by reading the labels on the things you eat and drink. I'd be willing to wager that most folks don't know that Dole is owned by Pepsico. I'm also pretty sure that only a few people on the planet are aware of just how internationally involved a 15.5 ounce bottle of apple juice can be. Let me quote from the list of ingredients (this is true truth): "Filtered water and concentrated apple juice, natural flavors, malic acid, ascorbic acid. Contains concentrate from Germany, Austria, Italy, Hungary, Argentina, Chile, China, Turkey, Brazil, and the United States."

I'm not kidding. That's really what it says. I suddenly feel so rural and inexperienced. My apple juice has been more places than I can ever hope to be.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Roadkill Ode

I saw the strangest roadkill
Along I-35
It filled my heart with pity
For what was once alive

Why it tried to cross the road
Like chicken-tales of old
Is something we will never know
A story never told

But there it lay, flattened out
Soaking in the rain
Long past being frightened
Or feeling any pain

The driver simply drove away
As if he didn't need it
Surprising, since the object was
A queen-sized PosturePedic

A drying out, some cleaning
And it'd be good as new
But those were things the driver
Must have thought he couldn't do

Instead, the roadkill mattress
Perhaps a U-Haul blunder
Was left to pique our interest
And fill us full of wonder

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Big Splash from a Little Stone

I had a fun time today rediscovering how funny some of my friends are...and I'm not talking about appearance.

I had no idea what to type in response to the question that creates a Facebook status message, "What's on your mind?" so I let my fingers do the walking every which way but loose all over the keyboard. The result: blusnoe;ona lkdjoe ;lajfopjjkdleijafj fager lkdiej;aj ;lkajij llmohjenpa

Having done my duty of updating my status, I went on about the far-less-important tasks associated with my 40-hour-a-week excursion into bankruptcy avoidance. And that's when the fun began.

First, a nephew simply checked the response, "I like this." Then, a preacher's wife interpreted the gibberish by saying, "You must really, really, really be mad." Our current children's pastor gave away what he thought my status was by saying, "Gesundheit." My Former Office Mate agreed, "Yeah...I'm thinking, did you wipe off the keyboard when you were done?"

At which point, I'm thinking, "Cute. This is like Modern Art. It means different things to different people...because it doesn't really mean anything at all."

The next opinion was contributed by the namesake of my daughter, BuckEye, a former college classmate, who added a theological twist: "You're supposed to have an interpreter." (See I Corinthians 14:27. Click here.)

And the ball just kept rolling...

Former coworker: That happens to me all the time when my fingers are on the wrong keys on the keyboard.

Again from Former Office Mate: Oh wait - you're supposed to use your FINGERS for the keyboard?!? Ohhhhh. That could explain a few things for me - my keys kept getting jammed between the buttons when I was typing. Wow - the things you don't know. (Editor's Note: Correction...the things YOU don't know.)

And then my Big Guffaw of the Day came from another entry by Buckeye's Namesake: I can't believe butt typing would get such a response.

With friends like these, who needs Jay Leno?