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Monday, October 31, 2016

TALK TO ME…


 Animals do it:





(Reworked from an April, 2013 post.  Sorry, Google insists the right hand margin is in the right place.)

Talking to each other is usually good.  There are exceptions, like when you've spent an hour or more showering, doing your hair & makeup & getting dressed & your husband looks at you & says, "You're not going to wear that, are you?"

Another exception:
A woman said to her friend, "I don't know what to do. My husband is such a mess maker that you can't imagine. He doesn't put anything in its place, I am always going around the house organizing things." The friend says, "Take a tip from me. The first week after we were married I told my husband firmly, 'Every glass and plate that you take, wash when you are done and put back in its place.'"

The first woman asked, "Did it help?" Her friend said, "I don't know. I haven't seen him since."
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A man came home and was greeted by his wife dressed in a very sexy nightie. 'Tie me up,' she purred, 'and you can do anything you want.' So he tied her up and went golfing the next morning.
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When I wish someone had talked to me:

Our daughter, Nameless, must have been about 16 or 17 when she went out with this boy on their first--& LAST--date!  She was usually home by midnight or so. She wasn’t home by midnight.  Or 1:00.  Or 2:00.  Or 3:00.  I couldn’t sleep so I was listening to the news.  They reported, over & over, that there had been a fiery crash on a freeway & an unidentified young couple had burned to death.  I called the police, hospitals & even the morgue, to no avail.  About 6:00 am, I remembered that they had been introduced by a mutual friend.  I called & woke him, explained the situation & got her date’s home phone number.  I called & woke his mother, who said that the kids were there, they were fine & that they had come to his home to watch TV & had fallen asleep on the couch.  She said they were so cute she didn’t want to wake them.  Didn’t this woman realize that Nameless had a mother & father who might be just the tiniest bit concerned about their daughter???!!

Several years ago, we had a car that talked.  My husband thinks it was a ’69 or ’72 Buick.  It would interrupt our conversation with things it considered important such as, "Your washer fluid is low." These pronouncements were usually greeted with an order of "Shut up, Harry!" from us.  I think it would have been much more useful if we lived in the ghetto.  Of course, it would have to change its accent--& its name.  Imagine getting in the car, turning the key--& NOTHING!  Then "Tyrone" offers an opinion: "I think some mothaf****r stole our batt'ry!" 

I have to admit, Bud & I tend to regard the importance of words differently:


But we never argue:


This is not me:



But if you don’t talk:




If this happens, you might as well give up:












From Rodney Dangerfield:
I said to my wife, "Come on, honey.  I can't remember the last time we made love."  She said, "Well, I can--& that's why we're not!"


How men & women differ in their use of language:
At the retreat, a couple was told to individually write a sentence using the words "sex" & "love".

The woman wrote: 
"When two mature people are passionately & deeply in love with one another to a high degree & they respect each other very much, like my husband & myself, it is spiritually & morally acceptable for them to engage in the act of physical sex with one another."

Her husband wrote:
"I love sex!"
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When one of my sons was 5 or 6 years old he asked me an interesting question: "I know about menopause & the change of life, but what happens in between?"

Do your teenage children talk to you, or are they like this?













But later…:




My kids talked to me, thank heavens.  My son was probably 16, & had been dating a while, when this 20 year old asked if she could come over to our house so they could watch TV.  We didn't think it was a good idea, but we talked to him & ended up permitting it.  Bud & I went to bed & apparently things got out of hand.  He told me what had happened & said he "felt used".  I heard him discussing it with a friend later. He said, "That's what my mom said."  His friend must have expressed surprise at that last statement, because it was followed by, "I discuss everything with my mom!"

This is the kind of conversation you DON'T want to have with your husband:
At breakfast one day, I eagerly waited for John to comment on my first attempt at homemade cinnamon rolls.  After several minutes with no reaction, I asked, "If I baked these commercially, what do you think I could get for one of them?"
Without looking up from his newspaper, John replied, "About 10 years."

One woman said to another, "My neighbor is always talking garbage about her husband, but look at me. My husband is foolish, lazy, ugly, smelly, rude, obnoxious and a coward, but have I ever said anything bad about him?"

You know how, when English speakers don't understand something, they say, "It's all Greek to me."?  A Greek might ask, "Are you speaking Turkish?"  This is what they would say in a few other countries.

A French speaker would say it's Chinese.
An Urdu speaker would say it's Persian.
A Cantonese speaker would say it's English.
A Czech speaker would say it's Spanish.
A Finnish speaker would say it's Hebrew.
A Persian speaker would say it's Japanese.
An Italian speaker would say it's Arabic.
A Portuguese speaker would say it's Aramaic.
& my favorite:
A Mandarin speaker would say it's Martian.














HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!













I used to be schizophrenic but we're fine now----fishducky

 





Friday, October 28, 2016

A PAINFULLY PROFUSE PACKAGE OF PICTORIAL PUNS or ONCE A PUN A TIME



This is BuzzFeed's fault, not mine.  (Or, as one of the first things that my Italian son-in-law learned to say in English, along with "Where's the restroom?", "Please" & "Thank you"--"It's not my fault; it's Nameless' fault!!")





Target demographic:


A paradox:








It's the little things that count:












And some non-pictorial ones:

I hurt my back while I was in Egypt
so I went to a Cairopractor.
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I love cowboy clothes.
I've always been a fan of ranch dressing.
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So what if I ate your pickle?
It was no big dill!!



 

















































----fishducky