Share this:

I have to reblog this, if only for the truth of the last line.

Janie's Place

Tilly Bud, you won’t believe this.

Last winter (January maybe?) I found Maltesers in the ethnic foods section for Great Brittan in the huge supermarket in the Big City.  So, I dutifully bought a package because, well, I just had to know what a Malteser of Laughing Housewife fame tasted like.

Now what you really won’t believe is that it made it all the way home (a 90+ minute drive) and into the house unopened.

Even more unbelievable, and down right sacrilegious I’m sure, is that it got put in my candy dish on the top shelf of my desk hutch (out of sight of the spud, who can sniff out candy from a block away) then buried under mail, spud artwork, homework and other flotsam for some 4 or 5 months until today, in cleaning off the desk and hutch, I unearthed the candy dish and rediscovered the existence…

View original post 112 more words

Naughty Hub

Customers are Ignoring You (Photo credit: ronploof)

 

I have blogged about cold callers before, and the fun the Hub has with them.  He found a new one yesterday.

An automated call came in.  He usually hangs up straight away but this one was about lower phone prices.  He listened to the whole message and then was extremely irritated to hear, This service is not available to cable customers.  All other customers, please press 2.

The Hub pressed 2 and was connected to a sentient being.  The sentient being, reading from her script, was thrilled to have a new customer.  She patiently asked lots of questions, and the Hub patiently answered.

After fifteen or so minutes, she asked what service he used now.

Hub: Virgin Media

SB: Oh, I’m sorry, sir; cable customers cannot apply for this service.

Hub: Yes, I know.

SB [Clearly thrown off-script by this]: You know?  But…why…?

Hub: I got that automated call which made me sit through it for the information I should have had first, so I thought, if you can waste my time, I can waste yours.

SB: … … …

*

The Hub is a minx.

Joke 434

 

English: cow icon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Another one from Cliff, slightly adapted.

The Hub was explaining to me last night that when you die you get reincarnated but must come back as a different creature.

I said, ‘I’d like to come back as a cow.’

He said, ‘You’re obviously not listening.’

*

*

I Is For ‘Me’

 

Washing dishes in 1983. Some things never change. Pity my waistline isn’t one of those things.

Continuing my occasional series of the A to Z of The Laughing Housewife, I have nothing for ‘I’. 

But I = Me, so…. 

Of course, the whole A to Z series is about me, so…. 

So what shall I write about?  I don’t know.

I know!  The things people have said to or about me.

Thanks for giving me time to work that out.

*

Best Introduction [from a friend’s daughter, spying me through the window after I had knocked on the front door]:  Tilly’s here, and she’s got great hair.

Best compliment: 

Sorry; I don’t listen to those.  I’m English, don’tcha know.

Best thing the Hub ever said to me: I couldn’t have picked a better mother for my children.

Worst thing the Hub ever said to me:

Unprintable.

Don’t think bad of him; every marriage has its downturns.  Yes, I have to put up with him, but he has it really bad: he has to put up with me.

Besides, there are so many worst things, how do I choose just one?

Best unexpected compliment that managed to slip through [from a brother-in-law partial to his food, visiting from overseas, after weeks of takeaways, restaurants and visiting other rellies]:  That’s the best meal I’ve had in England so far.

Best thing my boys ever said to me: I love you.

Worst thing my boys ever said to me: Now can I have one of your Maltesers?

Best thing ever said to me by anyone, ever:  Congratulations on getting your degree.

I got my degree in my forties, with the Open University.  Six years of part-time study while busy with a family, a husband who is ill, volunteer work, and a serious Malteser addiction.  Excluding all the usual stuff like a happy marriage and great kids blah blah blah, I consider it my greatest personal achievement. 

Oh Happy Day!

 I can’t think of any more.  I = Me = Egocentric.  I’m so wrapped up in myself, I never listen to anyone else.  I know they think I’m great; I don’t need to hear them say it.  In fact, people respect my position on this issue so much, they never do say it.  How kind!

*

*

Related articles

• Facebook is like Maltesers (nodamnblog.wordpress.com)
• The ‘Blah’s That Plague Us All (adamignited.typepad.com)
• Blah. I’m too lazy to title this. 🙂 (smileitsahappyday.wordpress.com)

Joke 433

Thanks to my friend Cliff for this one.

The Grim Reaper (Photo credit: Helico)

*

*

The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a vacuum cleaner.

Talk about Dyson with death.

*

*

Seven Of Nine, And Not In A Good Way

Dear Readers, I apologise: excluding the daily jokes, seven of my last nine posts mentioned blogging, improvements to blogging, problems with blogging, faulty blogging and why blogging is killing me, one white screen at a time.  To quote the best tv series ever made – The West Wing – I should Just change the subject!

But I can’t, of course, because I’m blogsessed.  To quote the second-best series ever made – Star Trek – Resistance is futile.

The good news is, the problems appear to have been fixed: I have not had to refresh my Facebook connection once in 24 hours (instead of having to do it 24 times in one hour); comments no longer disappear; pictures now appear; and the white screens have returned to their parallel universe, where Frustrated Me lives in a permanent state of Munch’s Scream.

One of several versions of the painting “The Scream”. The National Gallery, Oslo, Norway. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have answered as many of the comments on my own blog as I can – I had problems commenting here, as well, but I had to just do it.  I eventually gave up because I needed to regenerate (white wine-Maltesers-hot shower).  I have tried to catch up with your blogs but if I missed some, I apologise. 

As a thank you for your patience, here are seven of nine reasons not to date Seven of Nine (actually, these are seven of 45, but that kills the theme.  Read the rest here, where I found them):

1. The two of you have a little too much syntho-tequila, steal the Holodeck’s portable emitter, undergo a minor transporter malfunction, and “Boom!” you’re a daddy.
2. The first two and a half hours of any romantic encounter are spent trying to find the zipper on that damn catsuit. 
3. At the monthly Voyager Beer Bash, inebriated crew members keep shouldering you aside to use the bottle opener on Seven’s forehead.
4. The Collective has assimilated detailed knowledge of the sexual practices of thousands of species, and who needs that kind of pressure?
5. Her old roommate, Eighty-Four of Eighty-Five, always wants to tag along.
6. 198,874,987,293,128,154 in-laws.
7. Automatic response to “Was it good for you too?” is always, “Pleasure is irrelevant.”

For those of you who are not Star Trek fans, here’s a West Wing joke:

*

*

No joke.  I got nuthin’.  The show was often funny, but I can’t find a joke about it.  8,340,000 possible results, and nuthin’. 

Have a Scream cartoon instead:

Finally, this won’t make you scream with laughter, but it amused me:

From the Arts Council:  Arts Jobs: Wanted: tramsgendered performance artists

I wonder how much training they need?

*

And if you think this post is weird, wandering all over the place, making no sense, have a word with WordPress – they drove me to it.

Make it so.

Joke 432

 

Throat Lozenges (Photo credit: incurable_hippie)

This one came straight out of BC.

*

*

*

Show me a librarian with a sore throat, and I’ll show you a hoarse whisperer.

*

*

Summer. This Time Without The Hissy Fit

Sorry about yesterday!  A full weekend, a lot of sun, a thumping headache and a faulty WordPress led to my little tantrum.  Having slept on it, it occurred to me this morning that the photos were probably still in my media file; and they were.

I was going to give you a gallery but I didn’t want to fiddle about too much and lose things again, so you have to scroll down instead.  It still took me an hour to compile this.  But I’m in control of myself…really…I’m not secretly sticking pins into WordPress dolls or chanting around a cauldron…honest…

 Remember my enthusiasm for cycling…?

Not the new X Factor judges all in a row…the bins are flattening the grass to make it short enough to mow

The dogs give new meaning to the word ‘weed’

I would be embarrassed but the weather has been so bad, we haven’t been in our garden since last September, so I didn’t notice what a mess it was.

Green shed from Freecycle; old shed from B&Q 15 years ago; dead plants from the Hub’s vegetable-growing period, in which we got one minute carrot and three tiny radishes, after an outlay of at least £70…gardening is not our area of expertise.

How will I get the lawnmower in this?!

Now for a spring cleaning miracle:

Did I work hard or what?

 

I left the weeds growing up the sides because they are quite pretty.  Green is green as far as I’m concerned.  I have no shame – I’m not a gardener, and never will be.  As this is barely a garden, I don’t think it matters.

Sorry about the bold; I’m not shouting: WordPress has found a new way not to co-operate.  Where’s my cauldron?

Related articles

• Weekly Photo Challenge: Summer (thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com)
• http://laurieanichols.wordpress.com/2012/05/26/a-grand-day-gardening/#comment-3060
• http://eof737.wordpress.com/2012/05/25/weekly-photo-challenge-summer/
• http://pseu1.wordpress.com/2012/05/26/contrasts/
• http://pseu1.wordpress.com/2012/05/28/other-peoples-gardens/

Joke 431

 

Snail Hang-Out (Photo credit: Melissa Maples)

This one came from Janie’s Place.  It might take you a moment to get the punchline, but it’s worth it.

 

A snail walked into a car dealership. Immediately a salesman came up to him and offered his assistance, figuring a commission is a commission and if the snail had money that was all that mattered.

Salesman: Hello there, erm, Sir? Can I help you pick out a car?

Snail: Mr. Snail…. Yes, but I have some…special…requirements.

Salesman: Certainly, why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for?

Mr. Snail: I want something small and sporty that goes very fast.

Salesman: Not a problem, Mr. Snail.

Mr. Snail: But it must have vinyl seats, not cloth, not leather. For obvious reasons.

The salesman and Mr. Snail looked down briefly at a puddle of goo on the show room floor.

Salesman: Um. Right. Also not a problem!

Mr. Snail: Good. Then I want a special paint job. I’m tired of people overlooking me because they think I’m just a slow, dumb snail. I want something sleek, sharp. Something eye-catching that will stand out. Something that sizzles. Money is no object, so I’ll want it done exactly to my specifications.

Salesman: We will see what we can do. What were you thinking?

Mr. Snail: I want a fire engine red car. Fire engines are fast, and they get noticed. That’s what I want. And, the car must have a bold letter “S” painted on each side of the hood and the boot so people from all directions will know it is Mr. Snail when they see me drive down the street in my new car.

Salesman: O-kay. I think we can accommodate that. Is there any thing else, a vanity plate perhaps?

Mr. Snail: Oh…yes.

Salesman: The letter “S” maybe?

Mr. Snail: Oh, yesssssss.

So the salesman shook hand to pseudopod, some papers were slimed and some money changed over.

In a few weeks Mr. Snail returned to pick up his new car, and was very pleased with his purchase. The salesman had even made sure the new vanity plate was attached for his special customer. As Mr. Snail peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing and accelerator pressed flat to the floor, in his compact but fast, custom-painted car, the manager of the dealership looked out of the window and said to the salesman, “What’s the deal with the special paint job and the vanity plate?”

The salesman replied. “I don’t know, but you can’t help notice that little “S” car go!”

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Summer

If this is summer, it must be spring cleaning.  Yesterday was tidy up the garden time.  I fought pavement weeds, re-arranged the garden ornaments (old bikes, old pots, recycling bins) and braved the grass.

Today, I spent the past hour uploading photos and writing amusing captions, and WordPress has just lost them.

We are not amused.  And neither are you, because I’m not uploading them again.

Joke 430

 

Notifies people of a joke. (SVG version) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Thanks to Granny1947 for this one.  She’s funny without the jokes.  Check out her blog.

*

*

I’m in trouble with the wife. We were in bed and she asked what I would like to do most with her body.

Apparently, “Identify it” wasn’t the right answer.

*

*

McGuffy Stuff

Happy Birthday to Ann over at McGuffy’s Reader.

I liked her blog from the moment I heard the name, because I was heavily into The Little House on the Prairie at the time, where they use McGuffy’s Reader to teach Nineteenth Century children (hey, I’ve followed blogs for dafter reasons than that).

Ann blogs about cats, a lot – another reason to make me a fan.  Like that mad dictator of one of the Russian ‘Stans who dedicated a public holiday to water melons, Ann has Cat Thursday – my favourite day for her posts.  Check out her latest pic:

Ann also blogs about books, promoting new releases.  Treble fandom.  She has just reviewed a book by Kellie Meister called Crazy Critter Lady.  Make of that what you will…

Ann tells me that she is ‘extremely casual…been married 30 years’…make of that what you will.

Here is her birthday poem:

*

A Birthday Poem For Ann

Happy birthday, Ann,
of whom I am a fan.
Married to Bill
(make of that what you will)

for thirty years.
She endears
herself to her readers
with cat pics that get weirder

by the Thursday. 
I can’t stay away:
McGuffy likes fluffy
like I like McGuffy.

Of folk she never speaks ill;
make of that what you will.
She likes to distil goodwill;
make of that what you will.
This poem’s going downhill –
make of that what you will.

No need to be my mind reader:
I like McGuffy: read her.

Bday2 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 ***If you would like your own nonsense birthday post, leave your details in the comments section.

Tearing My Hair Out

Posting for Six Word Saturday…maybe*

If I am lucky enough to access your blog, the ‘Like’ button works but when I write a comment, all I get is the ‘Posting Comment’ box, forever, but it never does actually post the comment.  On some blogs, comments on one post work but not on another.  A new glitch this morning was the absence of photos.

If I go bald, it was WordPress inflicted.

 

A vision of my future if I stay with WordPress. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I’m off to take my rage out on the garden.  It’s a mess, too, but at least I can fix that.

*It depends on whether I can access the 6WS blog; and if I do, whether it will let me link; and if it does and you aren’t having the same problem, I will reply if I can but it depends on whether I get white screen; and if I don’t and I can access your blog, it depends on whether it will let me comment.  So, thank you for visiting and consider me with you in spirit, at least.

Signed,

Hacked-off of Stockport

SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!

Just tried to preview this post and all I got was…white screen!

Here, take it!  Faults and all!

 

Joke 429

 Last one from Michelle.  I don’t know about you, but I’ve really enjoyed them.

**

A cartoonist was found dead in his home. Details are sketchy.

*

&

*

*

I’m Not Ignoring You

 

English: WordPress Logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have had two WordPress issues this week: I have had to renew my Facebook connection at least eight times; and most of the blogs I have tried to visit appear to live in the Antarctic (all white screens; hear my frustrated screams).

I do care about you but I’m the elderly aunt who can’t drive and who is waiting on busy nephews and nieces to take her about – I will visit; but it may take a while.

In the meantime, here’s a little something from a blog I did manage to catch between white, white and white screens…

…okay, just tried to visit him and he’s disappeared into the white, like almost everyone else.

Here’s a poem instead:

*

Help Wanted

WordPress, you suck this week.
Tweak your settings –
I’m getting frustrated;
my visits, belated,
leave readers betting
Tilly Bud’s playing hide-and-go-seek.

I’m begging you, please,
on feeling-old knees,
fix your settings
or I’m going to freak.

*