Archive | November, 2012

Warning: Explosion Imminent

30 Nov

File:Arbol Navidad 03.gif

To those of my readers who don’t celebrate Christmas, I’d like to apologise in advance for December. 

Scrooges, look away now.

I love Christmas.

You have been warned.

What to expect from The Laughing Housewife in December:

  • A decorated blog
  • Christmas jokes
  • Christmas cartoons
  • Christmas stories
  • Christmas pictures
  • Christmas anecdotes
  • A lot of posts about Christmas
  • A lot of re-posts about Christmas (including this one)
  • A lot of giddiness on my part
  • A lot of lists (some naughty, some nice)
  • A list of lots of things to do, mostly involving wine and hysteria, though not necessarily in that order
  • A lot of posts which include the word ‘panic’ – it’s one day to Christmas month and I still have to find 25 Christmas jokes, Christmas cartoons, Christmas stories, Christmas pictures and Christmas anecdotes
  • Red and green fonts

If this has come as a surprise to you, then it’s clear you haven’t read my About page: 

Christmas and Maltesers must be done to excess; everything else is showing off.

I’ve just made a connection!  Christmas is red; Maltesers are red – I’m not a greedy pig when I eat seven boxes of Maltesers: I’m re-living Christmas. 

Now pass me a bucket; I feel a bit green.

Joke 617

30 Nov

From dogbreedinfo.  

English: One man and his dog

One man and his dog (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A man and his dog were walking along a road.  The man was enjoying the walk, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.  He remembered dying, and that the dog had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.  He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?”

“This is Heaven, sir”, the man answered.

“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.

“Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.” The man gestured, and the gate began to open.  “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.  You’ll have to leave the dog behind.”

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

“Excuse me!” he called to the reader. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there.”  The man pointed to a place that couldn’t be seen from outside the gate. “Come on in.”

“How about my friend here?” The traveller gestured to the dog.

“There should be a bowl by the pump.”

Man and dog went through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveller filled the bowl for the dog and took a long drink himself.  When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree, waiting for them.

“What do you call this place?” the traveller asked.

“This is Heaven.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” the traveller said.  “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.”

“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s Hell.”

“Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?”

“No. I can see how you might think so, but we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who’ll leave their best friends behind.”

 

NaNoWriMo Update

29 Nov
nanowrimo

nanowrimo (Photo credit: evilnick)

You may have noticed, after my first burst of enthusiasm, that I went quiet on the subject of NaNoWriMo.  Then again, you may actually have a life.

I signed up for NaNo to settle an argument: the Hub reckons I have a novel in me; I don’t believe I do.  I was prepared to fight fair and give it a real go.  Either way, I’d win: either I had a novel in me, in which case, hooray!  I’d have written a novel; or I wouldn’t, in which case, hooray!  I won an argument.

I won the argument but I couldn’t gloat because the Hub looked so sad.  He’s such a spoil sport.

The bit I have written isn’t very good.  That’s no false modesty: I’ve read enough tripe to know when I’m writing it.  I am a Twihard, after all.

I had intended to have a heroine only – Daisy, deserted by her husband, jobless and searching – but a hero appeared on the scene, name of Jack (a manly name; I made a point of saying so).

Jack was an accidental hero and it was incidental that he happened to be a traffic warden.  While I was still in the throes of writing passion in early November, I envisioned Jack and Daisy in their follow-up novel: Daisy works alongside Jack (it’s the kind of job you’d have to be desperate to take, which she is); they become sleuthing traffic wardens.  I doubt such a pair exist in literature – most writers want readers to like their characters.

I got to about Day 14.  I had about 12,000 words.  I took a couple of days off to do stuff that needed doing…and I never went back.  Every time I thought about sitting down to it, I found something else to do.

For a time the guilt hung over me: I signed up for NaNo; I should see it through; it doesn’t have to be great – it just has to be done.

Then I decided to say, ‘Stuff it!  I don’t want to do it.’ And I stopped feeling guilty.

Writing has always been a joy for me, even essays.  This was the most un-fun I’ve ever had when writing.  I’m not sorry I stopped.  

But I do like the idea of sleuthing traffic wardens.  Maybe I’ll sign up for NaNoWriMo next year and finish the novel.  The Hub is always saying I have a book in me.  It’s about time he won an argument.

Joke 616

29 Nov

These came to me via Pseu, from The Telegraph.

On Monday, John Gurdon won the Nobel Prize for...

On Monday, John Gurdon won the Nobel Prize for physiology or medicine. This is an excerpt from his 1949 high school report card. (Photo credit: orangeek)

School reports: the 15 best school reports submitted to the Telegraph letters page

  • He has an overdeveloped unawareness.
  • This boy does not need a Scripture teacher. He needs a missionary.
  • About as energetic as an absentee miner.
  • Unlike the poor, Graham is seldom with us.
  • The improvement in his handwriting has revealed his inability to spell.
  • For this pupil all ages are dark.
  • The tropical forests are safe when John enters the woodwork room, for his projects are small and progress is slow.
  • Henry Ford once said history is bunk. Yours most certainly is.
  • Would be lazy but for absence.
  • At least his education hasn’t gone to his head.
  • He has given me a new definition of stoicism: he grins and I bear it.
  • The stick and carrot must be very much in evidence before this particular donkey decides to exert itself.
  • French is a foreign language to Fowler.
  • Rugby: Hobbs has useful speed when he runs in the right direction.
  • Give him the job and he will finish the tools.

The ‘Ahhhh!’ Factor

28 Nov

My friend Pam shared this on Facebook yesterday.  It’s not her cat, by the way.

 

Joke 615

28 Nov

Grand Cayman Golf

From Will & Guy.

A man was walking down the street when he was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless man who asked him for a couple of dollars for dinner.

The man took out his wallet, extracted ten dollars and asked, “If I give you this money, will you buy some beer with it instead of dinner?”

“No, I had to stop drinking years ago,” the homeless man replied.

“Will you use it to go fishing instead of buying food?” the man asked.

“No, I don’t waste time fishing,” the homeless man said. “I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive.”

“Will you spend this on greens fees at a golf course instead of food?” the man asked.

“Are you NUTS!” replied the homeless man. “I haven’t played golf in 20 years!”

“Well,” said the man, “I’m not going to give you the money. Instead, I’m going to take you home for a terrific dinner cooked by my wife.”

The homeless man was astounded. “Won’t your wife be furious with you for doing that? I know I’m dirty, and I probably smell pretty disgusting.”

The man replied, “That’s okay. It’s important for her to see what a man looks like after he has given up beer, fishing and golf.”

Sandra Bullock Has A Sex-Change And Retires To Norfolk

27 Nov
The Rolling Stones discography

The Rolling Stones discography (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Time For Bed, Grandad

The Rolling Stones breached their curfew this week.  Playing at the O2 Arena, according to The Telegraph:

...the quartet, all aged in their 60s and 70s, were half an hour late starting, which meant the concert did not finish until just after 11pm [and] their set ran 40 minutes over a strict curfew.

Quite how strict the curfew was is debatable, given they ran a not insubstantial forty minutes over.

Fans, already annoyed by touts selling tickets at £3000 each – and who showed their displeasure by not purchasing them, leaving empty seats in the arena – were furious that the Stones’ final set omitted I Can’t Get No Satisfaction. Imagine their dissatisfaction, then, when many were left stranded because the tube line they needed to use to get home closed at 11:45pm.

You see, Mr Jagger – there’s a reason for the curfew.

But not to worry: in true British fashion,

It was left to a busker outside the local tube station to reprise I Can’t Get No Satisfaction as concert-goers made their way home.

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Bus, Earlham Rd. Norwich

Bus, Earlham Rd. Norwich (Photo credit: mira66) Not my story, but what a great picture!

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Meanwhile, Over In Norfolk

Ms Bullock, real name Alfred Throop, has been up to her old tricks again, driving speeding buses.  The Telegraph reports:

Alfred Throop, 67, was on the number 58 bus in Northfields, Leicester, on Thursday when the driver fell unconsious [sic] and the bus began to swerve.

Realising what had happened, Throop grabbed the wheel and steered the bus to the side of the road where it collided with metal railings at a pedestrian crossing.

With true British understatement, hero Mr Throop remarked:

“I noticed the bus going from side to side on the road and thought ‘there’s something wrong here’.”

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English: A square of bricks I just love a well...

Up against a brick wall (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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One For Alien Hippy‘s Mr Locoman

Mel Thorley of Stockport is having some trouble selling his house.  The Stockport Express reports that Mel’s perfect house [has] a spiral staircase, triple-glazing, two garages and six off-road parking spacesIt’s a great garden for sunbathing, the neighbours are great and it’s a good price.

There’s just one small problem: potential buyers tend to be put off by one little thing.  The paper describes it as:

…four railway engines parked on the back lawnwhich each weigh five tons.

British house buyers – picky, picky, picky.

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