Friday Levity 06.13.2008

I've been in the doghouse for most of this week, which probably comes as no surprise to anyone. It seems, in a man's life, if it involves a female (e.g. mother, girlfriend, wife, daughters) there is a very fine line between saying too much and saying too little. And, as you might imagine, I crisscross that line quite often, usually with great fanfare. I'm extensively married (i.e. married a long, long time!) and I still haven't learned the fine art of staying out of the doghouse. There are times when I know I should just keep quiet, but I just can't (e.g. "Can't you clean up after yourself WHILE you cook instead of trying to dirty every bowl and dish in the house?") . And then there are times I know I should say something, but I just can't make myself say it (e.g. "I know you like that outfit. Buy it! Let's not worry about how much it costs") . And then, there are times when I say something with a great beginning but a dismal ending (e.g. "Sure, go ahead and go shopping for clothes. Have fun! It's not like you JUST went shopping last week and I have no idea why you need to go again."). And sometimes there are times I really do try to state my feelings, but fail miserably (e.g. "If YOU think that outfit looks good, then you're the one that has to wear it, and you're the one that needs to be happy wearing it, so feel free to buy it if you want to").
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It seems quite ironic that I hear the most complaints about my "lack of conversation", and yet, conversations are where I often get into the most trouble. I'm a work in progress, and obviously, it's a lengthy project . I hope the project survives any premature, show stopping deadlines (emphasis on "prematurely dead").
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I did something this week that I've never done before. I created a new word!!! "Conern". It's a noun. It's a person who is a "concern" and also "a few strokes short of sharp blade" . Visualize a ConeHead who greatly concerns you because he's going to say or do something to screw things up. Example Usage: "He's a conern". Feel free to use it. But if you don't mind, let me be the one to contact Mr. Webster…I'm sure it will quickly become a part of our culture. I know it has at my house. Mrs. T latched onto it immediately. And because I invented it, I like it a lot better than those other things she calls me...
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If you're sitting in a traffic jam watching the minutes tick away and you've decided honesty isn't the best policy for you, think of a believable and acceptable reason you're walking in late. After all, if you were a hiring manager who heard any of these real-life excuses for being late, you'd be suspicious, too.

1. While rowing across the river to work, I got lost in the fog.
2. My route to work was shut down by a presidential motorcade.
3. I have transient amnesia and couldn't remember my job.
4. I was indicted for securities fraud this morning.
5. I was trying to get my gun back from the police.
6. I didn't have money for gas because all of the pawnshops were closed.
   

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My friend often complained that his wife needing to be more organized, paying attention and staying focused. He recently had a chance to put his theory into practice while his wife was away. When I popped in one evening to see how he was managing, and he boasted, "I made a cake, frosted it, washed the kitchen windows, cleaned all the cupboards, scrubbed the kitchen floor, walls and ceiling and even had a bath." I was about to concede that perhaps he was a better manager than his wife, when he added sheepishly, "When I was making the chocolate frosting, I forgot to turn off the mixer before taking the beaters out of the bowl, so I had to do all the rest."

Friday Levity 06.06.2008

First, a clarification from my entry last week. The two women from the Internet who showed up at the New family reunion were history buffs who were studying the history of small towns in Missouri. The man that brought these ladies is also a history buff (he's married to Mrs. T's sister). He has several websites devoted to small towns in that area, thus they all had met each other on one of his websites. Now I'm not sure what you all were thinking when I said a guy showed up with two women he'd met from the Internet and they were sharing pictures, but I doubt that you thought they were studying history of small towns. Tsk, tsk. Regardless, Uncle Garland would have still been proud to go tell his buddies at the truck stop about it. And I doubt that he would have mentioned the history stuff. .
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I was in the yard last evening, innocently and nonchalantly pulling weeds. My eldest son wandered by and asked if I was in trouble. As per usual, I was thinking slowly and didn't catch what he was inferring and in my usual intelligent way of communicating I asked, 'Huh?", to which he replied, "You're pulling weeds. I assumed you were in trouble". Pffft. It's bad to have a reputation that precedes you. He's the same son that will randomly laugh out loud when Mrs. T has her backed turned to us, causing her to turn and glare at ME as she WRONGFULLY assumes that I was saying or doing something behind her back. And he just laughs and laughs and laughs, enjoying every second of it, as I attempt to unsuccessfully defend my innocence. I can't deny he got his sick sense of humor from me…I just wish he wouldn't use it against me. . .
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As you can hopefully see, I deal with a lot of adversity and consequently, my body continues its rapid decline. Some people assume I have wrinkled skin due to my age. Wrong. I believe it's somehow a direct correlation to being in "hot water" all the time. And I can only blame my grey hair on my teenagers, because I never had grey hair before I had teenagers. And my extra weight can only be blamed on Mrs. T because she gets upset if I don't take a second helping of food every time I eat (especially if it's a new recipe!) as she WRONGLFULLY assumes I don't like her cooking any time I don't take seconds. Perhaps I just wasn't hungry when I refused that second helping of her new recipe of spinach and egg quiche! Perhaps quiche is very filling to me! And just because she found me in the kitchen five minutes later, eating potato chips, is NO cause to accuse me of faking being full of quiche! Can't a guy get hungry again in five minutes? Pffft. I'm going to start keeping a bag of chips stashed in the garage…checking the oil in cars can make a person very hungry......
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Kids Are Quick____________________________
TEACHER: Glen, why do you always get so dirty?
GLEN: Well, I'm a lot closer to the ground than you are.
_______________________________________
TEACHER: Millie, give me a sentence starting with 'I.'
MILLIE: I is..
TEACHER: No, Millie..... Always say, 'I am.'
MILLIE: All right... 'I am the ninth letter of the alphabet.' _________________________________
TEACHER: George Washington not only chopped down his father's cherry tree, but also admitted it. Now, Louie, do you know why his father didn't punish him?
LOUIS: Because George still had the axe in his hand. ______________________________________
TEACHER: Clyde , your composition on 'My Dog' is exactly the same as your brother's. Did you copy his?
CLYDE : No, sir. It's the same dog.
___________________________________
TEACHER: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are no longer interested?
HAROLD: A teacher
__________________________________ . .
Why is psychoanalysis quicker for men than for women?
When it's time to go back to childhood, he's already there.
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Why are men like blenders?
You need one, but you're not quite sure why.
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I am desperately trying to figure out why Kamikaze pilots wore helmets.
Dave Edison
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Now suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress... But I repeat myself.
Mark Twain
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Have you ever noticed... anybody going slower than you is an idiot. And anyone going faster is a maniac
George Carlin
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I think men who have pierced ears are better prepared for marriage. They have experience pain and bought jewelry.
Rita Rudner
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I'm not into working out. My philosophy: No pain. No pain.
Carol Leifer
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How can you tell if a redneck is married?
There is tobacco spit stains on BOTH sides of his pickup truck.
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I love deadlines. I especially like the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by...