Porn Roast

Today, Tom and Myrtle are both in their mid seventies.  Still very active and always on the go.

During his haircut yesterday, Tom was telling me that one of the grand kids gave Myrtle a new cell phone for her birthday a couple of weeks ago.

As expected, he said, it was going to take some time for her  to get use to the new technology and all the functions that were available to her, on her new phone. 

Last week he said they were driving to the city for an afternoon of shopping.  With Myrtle in the passenger seat and her cell phone in her hand, she decided to do a Google search on pork recipes, since she had planned to have some sort of pork roast supper that evening. 

She commenced to type in the word 'PORK.'  And as she did, she accidently hit the 'N' button for the 'K.'  And what appeared in front of her instantly made her scream.  "WHAT IS THIS?"  "HOW DO I GET RID OF THIS?"  And of course by now, Tom is also yelling... "WHAT, WHAT IS IT?"  "HERE, LET ME SEE!" as he barely missed hitting a parked car.  She had typed in the word 'PORN' instead of 'PORK.'  The screen was covered with very explicit pictures, like nothing she'd ever seen before, or ever wanted to see again.   

That evening pork roast left a different taste in their mouths.  Even though the recipe hadn't changed.

And from that day on, Tom said Myrtle was very careful while doing any Google search, making sure all words were spelled correctly, before hitting the 'Enter' button.
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Close Shave

Did you hear about the man who decides to drop in the local Barbershop for a shave.  While the barber is foaming him up, he mentions the problems he has getting a close shave around the cheeks.  

"I have just the thing," says the barber, taking a small wooden ball from a nearby drawer.  "Just place this between your cheek and gum."  

The man places the ball in his mouth and the barber proceeds with the closest shave the man has ever experienced.  After a few strokes the client asks, "What if I swallow it?"
 "No problem," says the barber.  "Just bring it back tomorrow like everyone else does."

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Fractions!

August 18, 2013.  It's amazing how fast our lives can change.  Actually within a second. 

I was talking to my very best friend tonight, who lives in St. John's, Newfoundland. 

He told me about a week ago he was at his cabin, trimming a couple of windows that he hadn't finished.  While using his table saw to make the cuts, he accidently ran his left hand over the blade and sheared off two fingers and sliced his thumb, down the middle, almost in half.  The doctor couldn't save the two fingers and told him he may never have more than fifty per cent use of his thumb, if in fact, any. 

During our conversation, he told me he's making the best that he can of a bad situation.  His spirits were up and he could joke about it now.

Retired, for some years from teaching he said, "Well, if I were still teaching school, I'd have no problem doing fractions in math class."  "Or, at a rock concert, I'd fit right in." he laughed.

Actually we were both laughing by now.  And I said,  "I wanted to call you tonight and get the story, first hand."  (never any pun intended, of course.)

Ron, over the years I have told people many stories of you and us.  I don't think there's a day goes by but something reminds me of you.  And now, I have another story to tell. 

I hope you recover quickly and that you do adjust well. 

Note:  Ron is not only my best friend, but he's also my editor.  Love you buddy.

Montreal

Ever notice the feeling you get when visiting a small town?  The type of service you get, can be second to none.  People seem to be more caring and down to earth.  This type of atmosphere is not often found in bigger cities.  Or is it?

James and his wife were visiting friends in Montreal whom they hadn't seen for a couple of years.

On the third day of their visit, James suggested he'd treat everyone to breakfast.

After it was decided as to where they should eat, they were off.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, the first thing everyone noticed was a sign that read "Cash Only."  Well, who carries cash these days right?  Two blocks down the street at a service station there was a cash machine, they were told.  When they got there, and after three attempts to do a withdrawal, James' card was declined.  For some reason it wouldn't accept his PIN.

Somewhat disappointed by now, they headed back to their vehicle, to try a different place.  But as they past in front of the restaurant, there was a gentleman sweeping the sidewalk in front of the main entrance.  He stopped his sweeping for a second to say hello.  James preceded to tell him about what just happened. 

He said,  "Oh no, you all just go on in, find yourself a seat. I'll be right in to make sure you're taken care of.  Don't worry about the money right now, you can take care of that after you eat." 

Upon his advise, they took him up on his offer and went inside.  Had the heartiest breakfast ever. And were treated like royalty.

Oh, the gentleman sweeping outside... was also the owner of the Restaurant.

So even if you're in Montreal or any other major city for that matter, I'm sure somewhere there, you can always find that small town atmosphere.

Why I Mow My Own Yard

The following is a true story...

One day, shortly after joining the PGA tour in 1965, Lee Trevino, a professional golfer and married man, was at his home in Dallas Texas mowing his front lawn, as he always did. 

A lady driving by in a big, shiny Cadillac stopped in front of his house, lowered the window and asked, "Excuse me, do you speak English?"

Lee responded, "Yes Ma'am, I do." 

The lady then asked, "What do you charge to do yard work?"

Lee said, "Well the lady in this house let's me sleep with her."

The lady hurriedly put the car into gear and sped off.

The Finger

While I cut Jim's hair today, he was telling me of a little incident that he was part of about a week ago.  At nearly 80 years old, he still drives and is quite active.

While driving home from the grocery store, he said a fellow drove up behind him and appeared to be very annoyed at him for no apparent reason.  When the left lane was clear, the driver sped up and passed him.  Seconds later they were both stopped at the red light just ahead.  Jim now in the left lane and the other driver in the right.  Both, at the same time, turned and looked at each other.  At which time, Jim instantly turned up his right hand and gave him the 'little' finger.

I said, "You gave him the little finger?  What happened to the middle finger?"

"Yeah, but I only used the metric system on him." he said.

Gotta love a guy who still has a great sense of humor, even in his eighties.

British Humor

The train was quite crowded and, a U.S. Marine walked the entire length looking for a seat, but the only seat left was taken by a well-dressed, middle-aged, French woman's poodle.

The war-weary Marine asked, 'Ma'am, may I have that seat?'

The French woman just sniffed and said to no one in particular. 'Americans are so rude. My little Fifi is using that seat.'

The Marine walked the entire train again, but the only seat left was under that dog.

'Please Ma'am.  May I sit down?  I'm very tired.'

She snorted, 'Not only are you Americans rude, you are also arrogant!'

This time the Marine didn't say a word; he just picked up the little dog, tossed it out the train window, and sat down.

The woman shrieked, 'Someone must defend my honour!  This American should be put in his place!'

An English gentleman sitting nearby spoke up, 'Sir, you Americans seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing. You hold the fork in the wrong hand.  You drive your cars on the wrong side of the road.  And now, Sir, you seem to have thrown the wrong bitch out of the window.'

Long Shot

So far it's been an unusual summer around here.  Extreme temperatures, high winds, to much rain and way to many mosquitoes!

But there's another thing that has caused havoc around our place this summer.  Hornets!  Now hornets won't burn your house down, or kill you, but it could happen.  And it almost did for me, about a week ago, in both cases.

I was mowing the lawn, and must have disturbed a nest of them in the ground, when all of a sudden I was being attacked by a swarm, ready to devour me.  I instantly let the lawnmower go, as my hands went flailing above my head, trying desperately to ward of my attackers, running for my life at the same time.  This all happened in less than two seconds.  But in that short time frame, I had been stung five times.  Three hits on my left wrist, one on the tip of a finger and one on the top of my nose.  (And for anyone who 'nose' me, you'd have to agree, any bigger would not be a pretty site.) 

The following day, after nursing my wounds, my wife discovered a hornets nest under a bench in front of  the picture window on our deck.  She thought lighting a votive candle,  and placing it under the bench near the nest might drive them away.  It didn't work.  Actually I think they kinda liked the soothing smell. 

That same evening I decided to run in town and pick up a can of wasp spray, that a friend suggested.  It was called "Long Shot."  Guaranteed to get rid of our pest problem, he said.

I waited 'till about 10pm before carrying out my execution.  I stood back about six feet, bent down, took careful aim and pulled the trigger.  In all my excitement to rid those nasty critters for good, I had neglected to blow out the candle first.  Instantly, I was holding a six foot flame thrower.  The nest caught fire, the deck caught fire, flames were shooting up the side of our ceder home.  I threw my 'torch', ran inside to the kitchen, grabbed the fire extinguisher from underneath the sink, pulled the pin as I ran back to the deck, kicked the bench over (in my bare feet) putting a one inch gash in my right foot, at the same time dousing the fire with the chemicals. 

That whole scene was played out in about ten to fifteen seconds.  It's amazing the adrenaline rush we get when we are faced with such a panic situation.

No damage was done to the deck or the ceder siding.  Only the fumes ignited and was put out before the wood had a chance to actually catch on fire.  

All the hornets died!

Dog Gone

There's a cemetery about about a mile from where we live.  I drive by there many times a week.

About a month ago, on a Sunday morning, I had to swing by our church to check on a call that I had received from our Security company.  It was about 6 am.  Not much traffic and very little activity anywhere for that time of day.  Except when I drove by the cemetery I had noticed someone with a wheelbarrow and shovel walking about.

A little unusual for Bob to be working today, I thought.  (Bob is the caretaker and grave digger of that particular cemetery).

A few days later, Bob was in for a haircut and I had mentioned about seeing him at the cemetery around six o'clock the previous Sunday morning.  "No, it wasn't me," he said. He's never there on Sundays.

Today, which is about five weeks later, he's back for another haircut.  He informed me that he had solved the mystery of the early Sunday morning cemetery prowler, that I had seen.

Apparently, someone decided it'd be a great idea if they came around daylight, and bury their dog, that had died a couple of days prior.  

Unbeknown to me, Bob had done some poking around (literally) and found a small box about five inches below the ground surface, directly behind a plot where someone had recently been buried.  Contacting the family of the deceased person, he did find out who had come in and helped themselves to a doggy plot, directly behind the 'owner of the dog.'

The body of the dog was exhumed, and found a proper burial spot.  No charges were laid.  

Smart Kid

Pete was telling me today that him and his wife were invited to a wedding out of province, about a month ago.  It was about a six hour drive, so they left on Friday to  be sure they had lots of time for the Saturday celebration.

 

While getting ready Saturday morning, his wife thought it might be a good idea if he popped down to the little Barbershop in the hotel lobby, for a light trim, since he neglected to come and see me before he left.

Halfway through the haircut, a little boy, about ten years old was seen looking in through the Barbershop window from the outside.

The Barber then said to Pete, “See that kid staring in the window there?”  “He’s the dumbest kid I’ve ever seen.” 

“Why is that?”  Pete asked.

“Well about every two weeks he comes by here and just stands and stares at me though the window.”  “So, let me show you how dumb he really is.”

The Barber then goes to the cash  register and takes out fifty cents and places it in one hand.  And in the other hand he places a dollar.

He nods to the kid to come inside.  When inside, he asks him which he would prefer to take.  He takes the fifty cents, thanks the Barber and leaves.

“See what I mean?” he than says.

Interesting, thought Pete. 

 

While walking to his car a short time later, Pete ran into the kid and he had to ask… “How come you took the fifty cents and not the dollar?

The kid replied, “Because the day I take the dollar from him, our little game is over.”