Posts Tagged ‘humor’

There is some crazy alien that is madly in love with me!

I really do not know what the deal is. I will make plans to have people over to my house. I will call and invite them over and they say that they would love to come over. And then I get excited… even though I know that I probably should not. I love to entertain. I like to cook and clean and get my house ready for company.

There is this crazy thing that happens from the end of the phone call to the day that the person is to arrive at my house. I am guessing that there is some crazy alien that is madly in love with me.  This alien would be jealous that he does not get to spend time with me. The reason for that is well, because I do not believe in aliens.alienAnyways, this alien, let’s call him Al, is a very jealous creature. He does not want anyone getting close to me. So once he hears that they are coming to my house, he somehow uses his powers to make them back out hours before they are to arrive. See he is tricky, he knows that if they cancelled earlier than I would make other plans.

Well Al, I am tired of it. You have done a wonderful job of making me run through friends like water. See after they cancel on me, I do not invite them to do anything. I let them invite me to something several times before I try again… and then if they cancel twice thats it, they are taken off my buddy list. I do have a number of friends that do most of the contacting, but I think to have a great relationship that it should be about equal give and take.

I would like to think that I am a person that has a lot of friends, but it might make more sense to say that I am a person that had a lot of friends. Is it just normal behavior for people to be so flakey! Well, I am tired of it. I am going to be doing some serious friend weeding, so to speak. And don’t worry if you are a close enough friend that I have told you about this blog than you are someone I want to continue to know.


Another Story (about a one legged man)

  You would think that a person would not have many stories about  a person missing body parts and while the first story was about a bum, this one is also about a person who I did not know.  I have to tell quite a bit of back story before I get to the point so please stick with me.

When I was growing up, my family lived in a beautiful pre-civil war home. That house is what I compare all places that I have lived since, none of them felt like home in comparison.  This house was set in the country and you would think that life would be calm, but no that was not the case. I don’t know if any of you have ever lived out in the country but people are always stopping by. Some of these people wanted to ask you about your horse or something that they found interesting, some needed something and since there were no cell phones and the nearest gas station was some ways off they would stop for their minor emergencies. Then there were stops of people who used to live in the house or their friends used to live in the house, and hey when a house is over two hundred years old that can add up.

One day we were all out in the yard, and an elderly lady comes around to the front and starts asking my Dad questions. It was not long before the women had convinced my Dad to let them host a family reunion at the house. So as soon as she left we got to work on fixing up the little things around the house.  

So, the day arrives and so do the people. There were tons- and they all had the best stories. One lady took us on a tour of the house and told about events that happened in certain spots. It got really interesting when she got to my parents room.

“Oh this room was used as the parlour. We would have all the viewing, those of the dead bodies, you know for funerals, in that there corner over there, actually right where your bed is darling.” 

My mom’s eyes got big on that one. (Before they were out of the drive way she had moved the bed to a different spot. That still makes me laugh.)

“Oh and over here is where they amputated Thomas’s leg.”

Dad- “I always thought might be a blood stain, but you never know.” 

My dad was a big history guy and actually worked on old houses. He was used to being in homes that the civil war used as hospitals. So a blood stain was not new to him.

“Yes, well you were right. You see Thomas was the very first one in this area to get a motorcycle. U97597P-AThe day he got it, he went out and had an accident and they had to remove his leg, actually they buried in the yard.  Mother told him, that he would be the first to own a bike and the  first one killed on one too.  I can’t quite remember why we decided to bury the leg…”


I remember at that moment, seeing my younger brother’s eyes. He ,like the rest of  us, was hooked on every word that the former occupant was saying, but I also knew that knowing that the leg was out there was a huge challenge to my brother.  What else is a second grader going to want to do, but find it and dig it up.

After they left my brother went out in search of a shovel but he could not find it and when he found my Dad to ask where it was, he found both. I guess that Boys never really do grow up. They searched the hill and finally found the foot stone that marked the grave, once that happened I was not sticking around to actually see the foot, too wierd for me.

So a couple of weeks goes by and life turns back to normal. Something else about the house that I did not mention before is that all the rooms are connected. There was more than one door to each bedroom. In mine actually there were four. One to the living room, one to the bathroom that was actually in an old closet (remember when the house was built there was no indoor plumbing) and another was connected to my sister’s room and the forth was to the outside porch, which was used as the main door. I know the layout sounds strange but I loved that room, it was big and I always knew what was going on.

One night a thunder storm began and while I liked them, this one was a loud one. Since there were mountains and valleys the thunder would get caught down in a valley and the sound would last a good ten seconds.  The wind was also quite strong and would sometimes make a howling sound when it was caught in the storm windows or doors. Well a loud crack broke into the air and the outside door was caught by the wind and started to open.

Just about the time I sat up in bed to go shut it, a blot of lighting struck right outside only a few hundred yards away and lit up the sky. Suddenly there IT was on the porch. It was the leg. I screamed, but either the sound did not come out or it was covered up by the thunder. Before my scream and the thunder had the cleared the air I realized my ghostly limb was only a boot.  You see my Dad had taken off his work boots and had left them on the porch before coming inside. One of the boots had fallen down, leaving the other standing up right and in place for the haunting.

 I waited for someone in my family to come and see about me, but no one did.  And it was actually many years later that I told my family members that story.  We sometimes get to talking about that house and we always have new memories to share with each other.  I think that we only lived there five years, but it has given me a life time of stories.  If you like this one there are more where that came from, just let me know.

Thank goodness for Handicap Rails

This is a story from my normal rotation. It is from a work trip to LA.  I was able to tell it to the ladies at dinner on Wednesday night.  We were all laughing and having a great time, so the timing could have been what offset the humor of the story.  Someone asked Norma, my room mate for the training, how crazy was it to room with me.  She said fine…I  interrupted and said how well I had been behaving all week. (And really I was trying to calm it down for her, she was quiet).  She agreed, but then said that she would rather not room with someone who laughs at themselves while in the bathroom.  Of course this brought out a couple of giggles and some questioning faces. So anyone who knows me knows that I have to defend my character and explain… 

It started because on Monday night when we got to the hotel, they said that they did not have any rooms with two bed left.  We had just met each other and were very tired.  We did not want to share a bed, that night or actually any nights for that matter. So we said that would not work and after a lot of typing he found a room on “floor 2”.  Thats what he kept sayng “floor 2”, “floor 2” and kept asking if that was ok. How I am supost to know, he is the one that works there. So, we in return would ask why, what was special about floor 2?“.  After too many exchanges on this matter he finally told us that floor 2 was the Smoking Floor.  So we had a decision to make, smoking room or a pull out bed. 

We said that we would try the smoking floor…We get off the elevator and enter the thick smell of set-in tobacco smoke.  Me, being the optimist, said “We should go into the room first it will be better.”…I mean he did say that they clean the room very well after each guest…. Well we open the door and I was surprised that the room itself was not filled with smoke. As I entered the room I wasn’t sure if I needed to get on my hands and knees and calmly seek the nearest unblocked exit. People, it was pretty bad.  So we hadn’t even set our bags down when Norma started to sneeze.  I then said “Well this isnt going to work, I’m patient we’ll get this changed.” 

So down the stairs we went and to my great relief there was another at the counter.  She looked like she just might be able to help.  So Norma went to call her hubby and watched from afar.  I told the lady what had happened.  She, after typing for an exgaurated time period, said that there was a Handicap room on the third floor, and asked “Is that was alright?”  Again, how I am to know if that would be alright. Is that some sort of training response, like when you say “Thank You” at Chick fil a they have to say “My Pleasure”. I figured it would be alright, but asked her what was the difference.  She said that there were only a few differences but mainly there were more rails and some assistant items to assit the disabled.  I took it, that was easy. But while she was typing and doing what she had to do, I was still talking and moving my arms around. Of course, I wanted Norma to think that I was working hard to get us an upgrade. 

Well, we journeyed to our new room and I was a little worried, remember at this point I didnt know what training was going to be like and would have rather been at home.  Some of you know me and how my mind can get carried away.  I had envisioned the room and had the idea that the beds were the ones that tilt to meet you. That the walls would be covered by bars and everything would be lowered. 

The door opened and I cautiously walked in to find that it was normal.  Where were the wheel chair tracks?  OH and the smell, heavenly. Well as good as a hotel room can smell.  The only place that you could tell that the room was for the handicapped was in the bathroom. All along the walls and the bathtubs there were ton of rails and handlebars. It was crazy how many different angles and different placements these bars were.

Now at this point you may be wondering what the point of this story was or is.  Calm down I am getting there. Ok, so the room was nice and great. We had many laughs about the room mixups and I even made Norma go outside and ring the special doorbell so I would know what it did. If you are curious then I will let you know… the lights flashes and the ring was more of a pulsing tone.

Nothing special had happened until Wendesday morning when I was taking a shower.  As I went to get out I slipped,  time slowed down, but my mind raced…I just knew that I would be lying on the ground, dripping, naked-as-a-jaybird and unconscious. But in the moment I reached out and what did I find… You guessed it…   Handicap Rails!  I would have fallen if it weren’t for those beautiful handles that were in perfect spot.  As I grabbed the bar I thought  “Thank goodness for handicap rails”. And the truth is if it wasn’t for those rails, then I myself might have become handicapped!!!  As these thoughts went through my head, I found the humor and started laughing.  But I thought no more of this til later that night, when in front of everyone, my roommate calls me out!! She never said anything that morning. Why would someone so sweet do that to me?

That is one of my favorite travel stories but I have more where that came from. Including one from the same trip. It’s called Zig and Zag. Keep a look out. Who but me names their own stories?!