Tag Archives: Humour

Cooking The Prompts

13 Feb

You’re at the beach, lounging on your towel, when a glistening object at the water’s edge catches your eye. It’s a bottle — and yes, it contains a message. What does it say?

Drink Me.  Oh, wait…you’re not Alice.  Damn rabbit!

*

Tell us about something you’ve tried to quit.

Blogging.

Did you go cold turkey, or for gradual change?

Cold turkey.  It was Christmas.

Did it stick?

What do you think?

What’s the one item in your kitchen you can’t possibly cook without? A spice, your grandma’s measuring cup, instant ramen — what’s your magic ingredient, and why?

The Hub.  If he’s not there, cheering me on and hugging me through my failures, I go to pieces.  I once incinerated a pack of chippolata sausages because he was in another country instead of my kitchen.  I have to burn food so I know when it’s cooked (I was one of the few people to take notice of all those safety adverts as a child).  I need the Hub there to tell me when ‘burnt to a cinder’ is too much.

What’s instant ramen?

*

You’ve been granted magical engineering skills, but you can only use them to build one gadget or machine. What do you build?

Star Trek TNG‘s food replicator.  

But then I wouldn’t need the Hub…what to do, what to do?

*

What’s the household task you most dislike doing? Why do you think that is — is it the task itself, or something more?

Previous answers refer.

*

Write a post that includes dialogue between two people — other than you. 

A True Story, almost

The Hub: Where’s your Mum?

Tory Boy: In bed.

The Hub: Where are the boiled eggs?

Tory Boy: On the ceiling.

The Hub: She cooked?

What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned from the person you’re the closest to?

To leave the cooking to him.

Actually, not any more; his M.E. means that he can’t cook these days.

So I guess the lesson is, marry someone rich enough to afford takeaways.

*

It’s January 26. Write a post in which the number 26 plays a role.

Hello?  I’d like to order a Number 26, two 14s and a 32, please.

*

Tell us about the nicest thing you’ve ever done.

Stopped cooking for my family.

*

If you could fast forward to a specific date in the future, when would it be?

The day the replicator is finally invented.

*

I Do Love You, Spud, Honest

11 Feb

Wednesday 15 January, 2014

Where’s my birthday post?

I’m not blogging at the moment!

You don’t love me.

Spud turned eighteen while I was on a break.  I didn’t write a happy birthday post – because I was on a break.  I did take him tea in an eighteenth birthday mug, buy him banners and balloons and not say a word about the girl in his bed on a school day; but, no, all he can see is no birthday post.

Apparently, I didn’t write him a birthday post last year when he turned seventeen.  I wrote one for his brother and his father, a hundred readers and even myself – but not one for him.  My argument, ‘But you don’t read my blog!’ didn’t cut it, because, apparently, he does.

I have been ordered to write a make-up post and not to make this make-up post all about his brother, which is what I appeared to have done in last year’s make-up post, saying how great his brother was and how he spoiled Spud on his birthday blah blah blah.

I’m a terrible mother.

But I can’t say that, because this post is all about Spud.

Spud was the biggest baby in the hospital, the week he was born – about ten pounds.  I have mentioned before that he looked like the V alien baby when he came out all blue and crinkly.  And absolutely gorgeous – which is how he’s stayed:

DSCN1860_IGP5708DSCN1770

Spud is now a man, and he has a learner’s driving licence to prove it.  He has done a lot of thinking this past year about what he wants to do with his life; but the decision was really made in the summer, the moment a sweaty Macbeth spat on him during the performance at the Globe: Spud wants to act.

This past year he has played Greek tragedy, Shakespeare and farce.  At the moment he’s rehearsing Judas in Godspell.  He doesn’t want to be rich and famous; he wants to work in theatre.  He is deadly serious: he wants to pretend to be other people for the rest of his life.  I couldn’t be prouder; or more scared.

Happy birthday, my darling boy.  Whatever you do in life, I know you’ll obsess about it until it’s right.

I love you.

Breaking My Own Rules

8 Feb

From clangnuts.blogspot.com

Remember how I was only going to blog three times a week?

So far, you’ve had posts on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Thursday and Friday – six out of eight days.

This is Seven of Nine*.

*If you’d like to read an amusing post about Seven of Nine**, go here (ignore the first bit about blogging).  If you get there and you don’t find it amusing, complain to the management.***

**Ding!Ding!Ding!Ding!Ding!  I just realised where the Beckhams found Harper’s silly second name – they are Star Trek fans!

It’s not sounding so silly now, is it?

***Management will not be available until Monday.  Maybe.

This seventh post comes to you courtesy of Edwina Currie, who riled me so much, I had to write about it.  My rant didn’t suit this blog’s theme of sharing the laughter, however, so I had to start a new blog.  Go and take a quick look, if you don’t mind.

It’s called Edwina Currie Made Me Start This Blog.

Miss Molly-Moo-Moo

7 Feb

You’ve heard a lot about Toby this week and almost nothing of Molly.  Molly worships the ground I walk on unless I’m not there; in which case she worships whoever is giving her the most attention.

She is the most loving dog but she doesn’t do dog behaviour: Walk?  No thanks; I might get wet/cold/hot/dirty.  Food? Is it gourmet/heated/yours?  Maybe, if you spend long enough coaxing me.  Coat?  Absolutely!  And t-shirt, jumper, blanket as well.  I’m freezing!  It is August, after all.

She hasn’t done anything interesting of late (she has to be prised from my side for that) so I thought I’d re-post A Day In The Life, to give you a flavour of her character:

  • Scratch at Mummy’s door but she can’t hear me over her avalanche impression.
  • Go potty.
  • Bark to wake Mummy.
  • Watch her stand in my poo and go potty.
  • Hide in the cushion like a cutie pie.
  • Cuddled for reassurance that Mummy loves me despite what she is sure is a mistake on my part.  Phew.
  • Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.
  • Demand breakfast.
  • Turn nose up at breakfast.
  • Let Mummy hand feed me my breakfast of expensive tinned dog meat.
  • Love Mummy.  Manage a sticky lick to her face.
  • Love Mummy.  Wonder why she’s looking a little nauseated.
  • Sleep behind Mummy while she’s at the computer.
  • Wake up, irritated by the noise Mummy makes when she falls off her little bit of the seat.
  • Love Mummy: if I’m going to be awake, I might as well enjoy it.
  • Watch Mummy trying to type one-handed while I sit on her lap for an extended belly rub.
  • Sleep.
  • Take the occasional sniff at Toby’s bottom, particularly when he wants a fuss from Mummy.

  • Drool as Mummy eats lunch.
  • Refuse to let her up until I get my share.
  • Sleep, exhausted from eating my protection money.
  • The dreaded walk…
  • Tolerate grooming; harness, putting on of; coat, putting on of; coat, taking off of; harness, taking off of; coat, putting on of; harness, putting on of.  I knew she had it the wrong way round but I didn’t tell her because it might start raining before she’s finished and then I have a legitimate excuse to refuse to leave house.
  • Open door.  See rain.  Refuse to leave house.
  • Tolerate harness, taking off of; coat, taking off of.
  • Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.
  • Sleep.
  • Ignore the weird kid who sleeps in the room next door to Mummy, when he comes downstairs, eats, grunts, and returns to his hole.
  • Drool as Mummy eats dinner.
  • Refuse to let her up until I get my share.
  • Demand dinner.
  • Turn nose up at dinner.
  • Let Mummy hand feed me my dinner of expensive soft pellets.
  • Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.
  • Sleep.
  • Cuddle Daddy while Mummy’s busy, keeping my eyes trained at all times on Mummy.
  • Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.
  • Stick to Mummy like poo to her toes as she prepares for bed; she’s going nowhere without me.
  • Wait patiently to be lifted on to the bed because I’m too feeble to jump up myself, unless she’s not there.
  • Have extended cuddle until Mummy’s arms ache, her tea goes cold and she knocks her Kindle onto the floor while trying to reach around me.
  • Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.
  • Sleep.
  • Disturbed by Mummy trying to get comfortable on her tenth of the bed.
  • Wait until she settles then sit on the most awkward part of her body (varies according to whether she’s lying on her front, back or side).
  • Sleep.
  • Disturbed by Daddy giving me a goodnight cuddle before he puts me out of the room so he can go to bed.
  • Give Daddy the evil eye for separating me from Mummy.
  • Wait for Daddy to fall asleep and try to sneak back in; jump easily onto the bed and wiggle my way between them, sleeping long-ways to get comfortable.
  • Daddy’s on to me: he shuts the door properly this time.
  • Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.  Love Mummy.  Can’t be separated from Mummy.
  • Scratch at Mummy’s door but she can’t hear me over her avalanche impression.
  • Go potty.

Spooked

6 Feb

Toby is easily spooked.  He was abused as a pup and, although he is a happy and healthy dog now, some issues remain.

One dark night in January, Toby chose to sleep downstairs, even though it was cold and lonely; and here’s why:

He had been asleep, tucked up in his bed, covered by his blanket.  His whole body was under the covers, including his nose.

That’s when he broke wind.

The peculiar smell sent him running off in panic.

I shouldn’t laugh, but I have a dog who is literally scared of his own farts.

New Year, New Rules

3 Feb

Image from integral-optionsblogspot

A Little Housekeeping

As you know, several minor health issues last year left me with no appetite for blogging.  The break has helped but, if I’m going to keep it up, I need to change my habits.

My intention is to try to post at least three times a week from Monday to Friday; and to visit your blogs on Saturdays.

Apologies

I won’t be commenting on my or your blogs as often I used to.  If last year taught me anything, it’s that I just can’t sustain it.  I’m sure you understand.  And if you don’t, feel free to leave a comment.

But don’t expect a reply…

Kind Of Strange

2 Feb
The villain of the peace

The villain of the peace

Have Toby, Will Travel

Besotted, bewildered, bawling woman is reunited with her unrepentant pooch. He is absolutely fine apart from being a lot scared and a little breathless.  She is still crying, but now in relief.

Have you ever wanted to be a heroine from one of your favourite books?  I always saw myself as Jane Eyre: pragmatic, stoic, capable.  Imagine my shock when I realised I am actually Twilight‘s Bella Swan, the girl who never stops crying.

White Van Man offered me a lift but we were five minutes from home as the crow flies (fifteen minutes as the drip walks), so I refused his kind offer.  White Van Woman, however – who could have been Jane Eyre because she didn’t take any nonsense – insisted on driving Toby and me home.  Her name is Christine and she didn’t mind the interruptions as I talked over her yet again (it seems my manners disappear in emergencies).  I first phoned Pam with the good news and then took a call – to my great surprise – from the Hub, who seemed to know all about our adventure.

Christine dropped me and an excited Toby – I’m in a car!  I can see out of the window!  Why isn’t it open so I can surf? – at home and I opened the door and fell, sobbing, into the Hub’s reassuring arms.

Right knee, battered and bruised

Right knee, battered and bruised

I love coincidences.  Do you?  How’s this for a coincidence?  I had left the Hub asleep in bed when we went out for our walk. About twenty minutes later he was woken by a nice woman named Doreen, who asked if he had two small dogs and if so, his wife had collapsed at the Pyramid roundabout.

Turns out that Doreen used to live just up the road from us and Doreen’s daughter had been in the traffic and seen Toby running through the cars and what she thought was me collapsing (I went down fast, hard and face-first). Luckily, she recognised me even though we have never met – worryingly, from the back (or, more accurately, from the bottom up); I hope it is mostly because she knows the dogs.

Doreen’s daughter phoned her Mum and asked her to drive to our house to tell the Hub what had happened.  I found all of this out later when she returned to check on us.  Doreen even posted a message on Facebook about a lost Yorkie.  I am so grateful.  What kind and thoughtful people.

Left knee, ditto.  Also elbow and thigh, but the pictures are not of this same high quality

Left knee, ditto. Also elbow and thigh, but the pictures are not of this same high quality

The Hub, half asleep and scrambling for socks, decided to look for Toby. He didn’t know about all of the people helping me but he did know I was with Pam and therefore not alone.  He also knew that I would climb out of the hospital bed it was possible I might be in and kill him if he came to see me before finding my dog.  

The Hub could be Jane Eyre as well.  Everyone could except for Miss Sobsalot here.

Pam arrived then with Molly, and we all exchanged stories in the kitchen, while the Hub made tea to aid our recovery.  I’m pretty sure that at one point I said, ‘Excuse me,’ to Pam, and dropped my trousers.  I wanted to show my wounds to the Hub.

The Hub disinfected my knees and elbow (I only discovered the scrape on my left thigh later on) and fed me paracetamol and ibuprofen, because my left arm from hand to shoulder was extremely sore.  He only became concerned when I couldn’t eat a biscuit: he has never known me turn down food in thirty years, come childbirth or illness, apart from one nasty, four-day bout of gastroenteritis.

A day on the couch, a hearty lunch (including the rejected biscuit), some strong painkillers, wonder that the whole incident had lasted no more than twenty minutes (it seemed like three days; it must seem so to you, as well) and reflections on the immense kindness of strangers, and I was soon back to my normal self.  

Which is just as well, because Toby wants a walk…

More Kindness From Stockport Strangers

1 Feb

Image from joyreactor.com

When I left you yesterday I was bumped, scraped, shaking and crying like a tumbled toddler; and Toby was haring down to the business park off the slip road, having avoided every vehicle on an incredibly busy intersection.  I use the word ‘haring’ deliberately – one helpful stranger said that when she first saw him, he was running so fast, she thought he was a rabbit.  If we ever catch him, we’re thinking of entering him into greyhound races as the mechanical hare.

I didn’t know what to do.  A cyclist and several motorists had all stopped to tell me that they’d go after him.  I didn’t know whether to wait where I was for them to come back, or follow my dog…my dogs!  I had two dogs, one of whom I’d recklessly abandoned to chase the other.  I phoned Pam, my walking companion, and she reassured me that she had Molly safe.  We arranged a meeting place so that I could give her my house keys and she could take Molly home via our usual walk, on the off-chance that Toby had run that way.

I think Pam managed to grasp my instructions between my dry heaves and gasps, because she found me, took my keys and gave me the lead.  She carried Molly all the way home because Molly, having been carried so far, refused to walk.  Molly was born to be a handbag dog.  Her only regret in having me as her darling is that my main ambition in life is to have a handbag so empty, pockets will suffice (yes, I am a woman.  I’ve been tested).

Image from mchumour.com

What happened next is a bit of a blur.  I know people stopped to ask if I was okay; to offer help/lifts/comfort; to tell me they’d seen my dog – a big husky, right?  All of these drivers pulled over in rush hour traffic to help a complete stranger in obvious distress.  There was a fireman, a businessman, truckers and more.

At some point, a man who works for one of Stockport Council’s service providers told me to get in his truck and he and his mate would take me to where they had last seen Toby.  His mate was apologetic but adamant that I couldn’t get in because of insurance issues.  No problem, said the first man; he’d walk me down and his mate would follow.  I went with him but I don’t remember getting from one side of the intersection to the other.  I think I was a little dazed.

The kind man then got back in his truck and went off in search of my dog.  I walked in the same direction, calling Toby, still crying and shaking but thinking, somewhere deep in the bowels of my mind, I hope I haven’t put holes in the knees of these pants.  I love them and I’ve only had them a month.  It’s all about the priorities with me.

A blue van appeared and a nice man invited me to get in.  I did.  I can’t believe how easily I was prepared to drive off with total strangers.  I can’t believe how the media have lied to me all these years – no one molested me in any way and every one just wanted to help.  The man took me round the back of the business park, where a man out of a white van told me a bunch of people had tried to catch Toby but he had run off round the back of the buildings and they had all gone after him, some in their cars, some on foot.

He suggested I go one way and he go another, in a circle to try and head him off. He pointed to a woman slowing down in her white van (this was a business area; white vans are de rigeur in business areas) and told me she had trailed my dog.  As I was chatting to her – mostly me saying, ‘Thankyousomucheveryonehasbeensokind’ between sobs and over her as she tried to tell me what had happened, the white van man shouted, ‘There he is!’

Toby was running towards me!  He must have run all the way around the fairly large business park.  I ran towards him, shouting his name, so of course he turned-tail and ran off in the opposite direction.

Desperation focused my mind at last: I yelled, ‘Where’s Hub?  Where’s Hub?’ The Hub is the love of Toby’s life (and vice-versa): he slowed down; he turned; he hesitated; and then reluctantly headed in my direction, not entirely sure he could trust the woman yelling his beloved’s name.

Then he realised it was me.  Not for Toby an enthusiastic gallop into my arms – he turned his back to me, which is his way of saying, Pick me up, please.  

And I did.

The Kindness Of Stockport Strangers

31 Jan

Image from Wikipedia
What happened to Zemanta?  I’m away for one short month and WordPress has changed everything.
I feel a prompt post coming on…

Yo, readers!  I’m back!  Did you miss me?  I told you I’d be back.  Thank you for your patience.

I had a lovely blogging break and feel refreshed and ready to write again…or I did, until yesterday.

Back With A Bang…Literally

I had intended to write my first post-break post tomorrow, on the first (you will note that my break didn’t wash away my propensity for mangled sentences; there’s no break in the world long enough to make that happen), but I had such a day yesterday, I wanted to tell you all about it; and to boast about how kind the people of Stockport are.

The day began in the ordinary way: at 08:35, my Yorkshire Terriers Toby and Molly, my friend Pam and I left my house for our weekly walk along the river Mersey, on the Pennine Way.  It takes us into the heart of Stockport, under the M60 motorway, but away from roads, so it’s safe to let the dogs off the lead.

We’d been out about fifteen minutes and Toby was a little way off, investigating smells.  Have you ever walked Yorkshire Terriers? They were bred as ratters. Try throwing a ball – they’ll get halfway to where it lands and be distracted by a smell, à la Doug and squirrel in Up, and that will be that for the game of Fetch as far as a Yorkie is concerned.

Toby was nose-deep (probably in something disgusting), when his body language changed and he realised he was being stared at intensely by a large dog which had come up behind us, a husky-type dog.  The husky charged, scenting prey. Toby legged it.  He ran up the path, under the subway and followed the path until it turned left.

I acted instinctively, forgot I was fifty and charged after him, yelling his name in what was intended as a command but which came out as a whiny beg.  Fortunately, Pam had the presence of mind to grab Molly before she ran after me running after the husky running after Toby.  We must have been quite a sight, with the husky owner running after me running after the husky running after Toby…who ran into rush hour traffic.

I rounded the corner as he dashed across the far four lanes.  The traffic in the two lanes closest to me had stopped so I belted over to the other pavement and suddenly realised I was running downhill, faster than I’ve ever run before, and I would very shortly be crashing face-first to the ground.

And lo, it came to pass.  My left hand must have taken the impact because it hurt-hurt-hurts today, up my arm to my shoulder.  I thought at first I had sprained it and I’m lucky not to have broken it, such was my momentum.  It is worth the pain because my face merely bounced off the pavement, leaving no scratches or bumps, just temporary indentations where my glasses had tried to give me eyes in the back of my head.

A car pulled up, and another, I think.  Someone helped me stand, a cyclist chased off after Toby, who was running the wrong way through the cars on a busy intersection.

Image from webaviation.co.uk 

See the triangle of grass above the .co.uk?  I had crossed the diagonal red path above it and was now prostrate on the path to its left.  Toby was running down the slip road in front of the Pyramid, which has a large white truck going one way and a yellow van going the other.

And I will stop there for today, for two reasons:

1. Always leave them wanting more and

2. My arm hurts. Which leads to three:

3. Always leave them feeling sorry for you: it may result in chocolate.

Season Break

22 Dec
prozac

prozac (Photo credit: Life Mental Health)

I’m what doctors technically refer to as ‘knackered’, so I’m taking a break from blogging and other stuff.  I won’t be posting, reading or commenting.

Please don’t be offended if I unsubscribe from your blogs – spending my break deleting emails is not what I have in mind to do over the next month.

Thanks for all the support.

I’ll see you in February!

 

101/1001 (Week 143) Or, The End (Part Two)

21 Dec

Before I go any further, I want to say thank you to Sarsm‘s husband for designing the challenge logo and that freaky snail you met yesterday.  Having an identifying image was a great help.

First, some statistics of some of the tasks I completed:

  • Target: Write 1111 blog posts.   Achieved: 2068.  No surprise there because I didn’t think it through: counting jokes as posts (I still had to write, prepare and schedule them like ordinary posts), that removes 1001 immediately.  All I needed was to write 110 posts in just under three years to succeed.
  • Target: Try three new foods.   Achieved: 8.  And I can’t remember any of them, which means I’m not still eating them, which kind of defeats the object of the exercise.  Ah well.
  • Target: Write 1001 new poems.  Achieved: 1115.  114 over the odds!

Tasks I found both fun and useful:

  • Learn the names of the New Testament books as they appear.  I have known the Old Testament books since I was a child; but I have to sing the list.
  • Learn the names of all twelve disciples.  
  • Learn the names of all the Kings & Queens of England in chronological order.
  • Learn the names of all the American Presidents in chronological order.

Learning these lists has given me:

  1. A party piece at last.
  2. A great tool for dealing with the boredom of  my daily dog walk.
  3. An excellent distraction technique for anxiety.
  4. A love of lists.

The task I really didn’t expect to complete:

  • Lose some weight.  More than a little; less than a lot.  I put it in to pad out the list.  I’ve lost 11.5kgs/25.35316lbs.  Chuffed!  Never before has so much padding led to a lack of padding.

The easiest task:

  • Target: Watch 101 new films.  Achieved: 173.  Easy!  No wonder I didn’t get a job.

The toughest task.

  • Finding 1001 clean and funny jokes.

The completed task that was really a cheat:

  • Not play on King.com for a total of 101 days.  Which I managed for 498 days.  The point of the exercise was not to waste so much time at the computer.  I played solitaire instead.  Time wasted: lots.

The task I’m most pleased to have completed:

  • Finish editing SA Poems.  I was thrilled to put together my first poetry collection, ready to submit to publishers.  I might never have done it if I had not set it as a task.

The task I most enjoyed:

I couldn’t choose just one.  I probably wouldn’t have done the first two without this challenge.

  • Have a go on every item in the new children’s play area in Gorsey Bank Park.  [Refresh your memory here] I was giddy with excitement, just like a child.  And then furious, because the Hub, instead of photographing the moment when I crashed to the ground from the spider web, rushed over to check if I was hurt.
  • Learn all the words to the South African National Anthem.  Did I mention it’s in five languages?
  • Go to the theatre.  Six months of birthday celebrations and four theatre visits, plus everything Spud starred in.  Hooray!

Thank you, readers, for your encouragement and interest in this project.  You kept me going.

And more thanks, this time for Sarsm herself, who talked me into doing this challenge.  Although determined to finish some of the tasks, I always treated it as fun, and it has exposed me to activities I might never have done without her. Thank you x

101/1001 (Week 143) Or, The End (Part One) So, The Penultimate Episode, Really

20 Dec

That’s it!  My 1001 days or 143 weeks or thirty-three months or two-and-three-quarter years of purgatory/fun/must-remember-to-do-something-on-my-list time has reached the end.

So, how did I do?

I didn’t complete all of the challenges – including, Find another 64 challenges for the list.  I found 38.  Technically, then, this project should have been called 75 Tasks in 1001 Days, but do you really want to argue with a menopausal woman so close to Christmas?  I thought not.

There are some I regret not doing:

  • Get a job.  I didn’t.
  • Leave my poems in 101 locations. (0/101).  I didn’t have the guts to be a poetry bomber; it seemed presumptuous to force myself on strangers.
  • Read 101 new books (84/101).  I did a lot of reading, but mostly old favourites.  
  • Save £1 for each completed task.   I never seemed to have it to spare.

Some I don’t:

  • Win NaNoWriMo. This writer really doesn’t have a novel in her.
  • Do a REAL spring clean.  Talk about your proverbial pipe dream…
  • Ride my bike twenty out of thirty days.  (0/30).  Too much like hard work.
  • Try out three new recipes (6/15).  Previous comment refers.
  • Try olives AGAIN.  Forget it.  I can still taste the last one.
  • Taste a courgette.  The olives put me off.

And some are on my To Do List:

  • Answer all comments received in one day with song lyrics.  Too much fun to let go.
  • Ensure Spud can cook before going off to university.  My timing was out: that’s next summer’s job.

Tune in tomorrow for the tasks I did manage to complete.

Remember the Scary Snail?  He celebrated the first anniversary.  

I Told A Joke A Day For A 1001 Days

19 Dec

…And then some!

When I set myself the challenge of telling you a joke a day for 1001 days, I’m not sure that I believed I could do it.  It seemed like a fun challenge but I can’t say I had a burning desire to complete it.  However, I plodded on; sometimes staying up late with a couple of matchsticks and glowing screen; sometimes scheduling them a week in advance.   Occasionally, because of computer or internet problems, I posted late…but I never missed a day!

I told puns and one-liners and shaggy dog stories.  I shared lists and cartoons.  I lifted stories from news sites, comedians, the telly, and other blogs.  I told jokes so bad, I had to give you another dozen to disguise them.  And I never missed a day.

When I was stuck for a topic, I looked around the room until something caught my eye, then I Googled it: jokes about computers; jokes about dogs; jokes about chairs.  I once shared this habit with you and I was challenged to find a joke about orange.  I found a hundred.  I have to say, I’m probably Google’s biggest fan.

Some of you love the jokes; some of you never read them.  I found it arduous at times to come up with something, but I kept on going for the diehards who wanted their joke for the day.  Thank you for making me post a joke a day.

There were times when I was ready to jack it in.  I have been tired and unwell this year and ready to take a break from blogging, but I had to post a joke a day. I plodded on.  Then I hit day 851: the bulk of the challenge was behind me; the end was almost in sight.  I was determined to reach the end.

Animated horse, made by rotoscoping 19th centu...

Animated horse, made by rotoscoping 19th century photos by Eadweard Muybridge. Artistic license has been used to achieve the cartoony look. Animated by J-E Nyström, User:Janke, released under CC-BY-SA-2.5 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

And I did!

I have to say it – I’m rather impressed with myself. Telling a joke a day doesn’t sound that difficult, but have you tried to find funny, clean jokes on the internet or elsewhere?  I swear, there isn’t one topic that cannot somehow be made grubby by those with the will to do it.  My eyes dropped and my chin boggled at some of the stuff I was forced to filter on your behalf.

But it was worth it.  Searching for laughter is always worth it.

Sharing the laughter – my reader-approved-by-poll tagline – is what this blog is all about and you helped me, beloved readers: you shared your jokes by email, post and comment; you re-blogged and pinned the best jokes; you tut-tutted at the duff puns and gently/forcefully steered me in the direction you wanted me to take.

Most of all, you laughed.  You commented.  You shared the laughter.

Thank you.  Thank you for your encouragement.  Thank you for your terrible (and sometimes terribly rude) jokes.  Thank you for your hilarious jokes.

Thank you for sharing the laughter.

Now, I’m going to take a month off blogging; and re-group.

And that’s no joke.

I have prepared a couple of end-of-challenge posts, to round things off; but there will be no jokes; no posts; no comments after this week.  

I apologise to new readers but something’s got to give.  I don’t want it to be my sanity.

To soften the blow, I will share my absolute favourite joke from the archive.  I laugh out loud every time I read it.  

A man was dining alone in a fancy restaurant and there was a gorgeous redhead sitting at the next table.  He had been checking her out since he sat down, but lacked the nerve to talk with her.

Suddenly she sneezed, and her glass eye came flying out of its socket towards the man. He reflexively reached out, grabbed it out of the air, and handed it back.

‘Oh my, I am so sorry,’ the woman said, as she popped her eye back in place. ‘Let me buy your dinner to make it up to you.’

They enjoyed a wonderful dinner together, and afterwards they went to the theatre, followed by drinks.  They talked, they laughed, she shared her deepest dreams and he shared his. She listened to him with interest.

After paying for everything, she asked him if he would like to come to her place for a nightcap and stay for breakfast. They had a wonderful, wonderful time.

The next morning, she cooked a gourmet meal with all the trimmings. The guy was amazed. Everything had been so incredible!

‘You know,’ he said, ‘you are the perfect woman.  Are you this nice to every guy you meet?’

‘No,’ she replied.  ‘You just happened to catch my eye.’

Joke 1001

19 Dec

First, jokes from the archive:

Very British Problems

There was a knock on the door one morning.  Seamus opened it to find a young, well-dressed man standing there who said, “Hello sir, I’m a Jehovah’s Witness.”

Seamus said, “Come in and sit down.”

After he offered his visitor a fresh cup of coffee, Seamus asked, “What do you want to talk about?”

The Jehovah’s Witness said, “Beats me.  Nobody ever let me in before.”

Any guy out there who believes women are the weaker sex has never tried to reclaim his half of the blanket on a cold winter’s night.

An old sea-captain was sitting on a bench near the wharf when a young man walked up and sat down. The young man had spiked hair and each spike was a different colour…green, red, orange, blue and yellow.

After a while the young man noticed that the captain was staring at him.

“What’s the matter old-timer, never done anything wild in your life?”

The old captain replied, “Got drunk once and married a parrot. I was just wondering if you were my son.”

From A Doctor:

At the beginning of my shift I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and slightly deaf female patient’s anterior chest wall.

‘Big breaths,’ I instructed.

‘Yes, they used to be,’ replied the patient.

Someecards

And finally, at last, here it comes, ta-da!  

From Heroes magazine (supporting the British military), my 1001st joke:

*

Four strangers travelled together in the same compartment of a European train. Two men and two women faced each other. One woman was a very wealthy and sophisticated 70 year old lady who was decked out in the finest of furs and jewellery. Next to her sat a beautiful young woman, nineteen years old, who looked like something right off the cover of a fashion magazine. Across from the older lady was a very mature looking man in his mid-forties who was a highly decorated Sergeant Major in the Army. Next to the Sergeant Major sat a young private fresh out of boot camp.

As these four strangers travelled, they talked and chatted about trivial things until they entered an unlit tunnel, and there they sat in complete darkness and total silence, until the sound of a distinct kiss broke the silence; following the kiss a loud slap could be heard throughout the cabin.

In the ensuing period of silence the four strangers sat quietly with their own thoughts.

The older lady was thinking, “Isn’t it wonderful that even in this permissive day and age there are still young women who have a little self-respect and dignity?”

The young woman, shaking her head and greatly puzzled, asked herself, “Why in the world would any man in his right mind want to kiss an old fossil like that when I’m sitting here?”

The Sergeant Major, rubbing his sore face, was outraged that any woman could ever think that a man in his position would try to sneak a kiss in the dark.

The private, grinning from ear to ear, was thinking, “What a crazy and mixed up world this is when a private can kiss the back of his hand and then smack a Sergeant Major in the face and get away with it!”

*

And here’s my end-of-performance jig, to celebrate:

Thank you, everyone, for reading along and commenting.  It has been my pleasure.

Joke 1000

18 Dec

Every ten years, monks in a monastery are allowed to break their vow of silence to speak two words.

Ten years go by and it’s one monk’s first chance. He thinks for a second before saying, “Food bad.”

Ten years later, he says, “Bed hard.”

It’s the big day a decade later. He gives the head monk a long stare and says, “I quit.”

“I’m not surprised,” says the head monk. “You’ve been complaining ever since you got here.”

*

From buzzle.com

*find x

From the archive:

*

A man asked his wife what she’d like for her birthday. “I’d love to be eight again,” she replied.

On the morning of her birthday he arose early, made her a nice big bowl of Coco Pops, and then took her off to the local theme park. What a day! He put her on every ride in the park: the Death Slide, the Wall of Fear, the Screaming Monster Roller Coaster, every thing there was.

Five hours later she staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling and her stomach felt upside down. Right away, they journeyed to a McDonald’s where her loving husband ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a refreshing chocolate shake.

Then it was off to the movies: the latest Star Trek epic, a hot dog, popcorn, all the Coke she could drink, and her favorite M&M’s. What a fabulous adventure!

Finally she wobbled home with her husband and collapsed into bed, exhausted. He leaned over his precious wife with a big smile and lovingly asked, “Well, Dear, what was it like being eight again?”

Her eyes slowly opened and her expression suddenly changed. “I meant my dress size!”

The moral of the story: Even when a man is listening, he’s going to get it wrong.

 *

No collection of jokes from the archive would be complete without the incomparable punster Tim Vine:

Tim Vine The Joke-Amotive promotional advert

Tim Vine The Joke-Amotive promotional advert (Photo credit: http://www.theedinburghblog.co.uk)

*

  • So I told my mum that I’d opened a theatre. She said, “Are you having me on?” I said, “Well I’ll give you an audition, but I’m not promising you anything.”
  • So this cowboy walks in to a German car showroom and he says, “Audi!”
  • So I met this bloke with a didgeridoo and he was playing Dancing Queen on it. I thought, that’s aboriginal.
  • I visited the offices of the RSPCA today. It’s tiny, you couldn’t swing a cat in there.
  • I was stealing things in the supermarket today while balanced on the shoulders of vampires. I was charged with shoplifting on three counts.
  • I bought a train ticket and the driver said, “Eurostar.” I said, “Well I’ve been on telly but I’m no Dean Martin.”
  • At least it’s comfortable on Eurostar; it’s murder on the Orient Express…
  • I went to the doctor. I said to him, “I’m frightened of lapels.” He said, “You’ve got cholera.”
  • So I met the bloke who invented crosswords today. I can’t remember his name, it’s P something T something R.
  • I was reading this book today, The History Of Glue, and I couldn’t put it down.
  • My mate asked me, “What do you think of voluntary work?” I said, “I wouldn’t do it if you paid me.”
  • So I was in the jungle and there was this monkey with a tin opener. I said, “You don’t need a tin opener to peel a banana.” He said, “No, this is for the custard.”
  • This policeman came up to me with a pencil and a piece of very thin paper. He said, “I want you to trace someone for me.”
  • So this lorry full of tortoises collided with a van full of terrapins. It was a turtle disaster.
  • So I told my girlfriend I had a job in a bowling alley. She said, “Tenpin?” I said, “No, it’s a permanent job.”
  • I went out on a date with Simile. I don’t know what I metaphor.
     
  • My DVD cellophane was put on by a psychiatrist. It was shrink-wrapped.
  • I used go out with an anaesthetist – she was a local girl.
  • I had a dream last night that I was cutting carrots with the Grim Reaper… dicing with death.
  • Albinos – you can’t say fairer than that.
  • The advantages of easy origami are two-fold.
  • So I said to the gym instructor: “Can you teach me to do the splits?” He said: “How flexible are you?” I said: “I can’t make Tuesdays.”
  • When I left home, my mum said: “Don’t forget to write.” I thought: “That’s unlikely – it’s a basic skill, isn’t it?”
  • Velcro… what a rip-off.
  • You invented Tipp Ex, correct me if I’m wrong.
  • I’m so lazy I’ve got a smoke alarm with a snooze button.
  • I bought some Armageddon cheese today, and it said on the packet ‘Best Before End…’
  • You see I’m against hunting, in fact I’m a hunt saboteur.  I go out the night before and shoot the fox.
  • You see my next door neighbour worships exhaust pipes.  He’s a catholic converter.
  • So Batman came up to me & he hit me over the head with a vase and he went “T’PAU!”  I said, “Don’t you mean KAPOW?  He said, “No, I’ve got china in my hand.”
  • I’m so lazy I’ve got a smoke alarm with a snooze button.
  • So I went to buy a watch, and the man in the shop said, “Analogue.”  I said, “No, just a watch.”
  • I went into a shop and I said, “Can someone sell me a kettle?”  The bloke said, “Kenwood.” I said, “Where is he?”
  • So I went in to a pet shop. I said, “Can I buy a goldfish?” The guy said, “Do you want an aquarium?” I said, “I don’t care what star sign it is.”
  • I was in this restaurant and I asked for something herby.  They gave me a Volkswagen with no driver.
  • I’ll tell you what makes my blood boil…crematoriums.
  • I saw this bloke chatting up a cheetah.  I thought, ‘He’s trying to pull a fast one.’
  • I was at sea the other day and loads of meat floated past.  It was a bit choppy.
  • Did you know if a stick insect laid its eggs in a jar of Bovril, it will give birth to a litter of Twiglets?
  • I was having dinner with my boss and his wife and she said to me, ‘How many potatoes would you like Tim?’  I said, ‘Ooh, I’ll just have one, please.’ She said, ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to be polite.’  ’All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll just have one then, you stupid cow.’
  • You know, I’m not very good at magic – I can only do half of a trick.  Yes – I’m a member of the Magic Semi-circle.
  • You know, somebody actually complimented me on my driving today.  They left a little note on the windscreen, it said ‘Parking Fine.’  So that was nice.
  • So I went down my local ice cream shop, and said, ‘I want to buy an ice-cream’.  He said, ‘Hundreds & thousands?’ I said,  ’We’ll start with one.’  He said, ‘Knickerbocker glory?’  I said, ‘I do get a certain amount of freedom in these trousers, yes.’
  • Exit signs – they’re on the way out, aren’t they?
  • Now, most dentists’ chairs go up and down, don’t they?  The one I was in went back and forwards.  I thought, ‘This is unusual.’  And the dentist said to me, ‘Mr Vine, get out of the filing cabinet.
  • So I rang up my local swimming baths.  I said, ‘Is that the local swimming baths?’  He said,  ’It depends where you’re calling from.’
  • I rang up a local building firm.  I said, ‘I want a skip outside my house.’  He said, ‘I’m not stopping you.’

 

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