Humor – Page 6 – 50 Shades of Gray Hair

Pulling Out the 50th Shade

Famous Opening Lines…We all know them and know too, that when we hear one, there’s bound to be a good story to follow!

Once Upon a Time…

Far, Far, Away…

Long Ago and Far Away…

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night…

In the Beginning…

It Was Love at First Sight…

You get what I mean right?

I know when I hear one, I feel a true sense of anticipation for what’s to follow.

Good storytelling does that for me.

A good story begins at the beginning; that great opening line.

One that gives me that special kind of ‘tingle up my leg’

(stole that from some pseudo-famous liberal’s “tingle heard round the world”)

Anyway…while preparing to re-enter the blogosphere after my short but eventful hiatus from sharing, I needed to capture, in one good opening line, the true sense of what’s to come.

A line to draw you in and make you want to keep going to see what there is to see and feel what there is to feel.

An open to encapsulate the last 374 days, 17 hours, and 49 seconds in a little amuse bouche that, once tasted, will leave you wanting a bigger bite.

None of those listed above will do for me though. Not this time anyway.

While great, they are lacking that je ne sais quoi I’m hoping for.

So, to that end…I’m pulling out the final shade in my Bag O’ Fifty; the one I didn’t think I’d get to for at least another 5 years minimum, if ever.

The one I call “The 50th Shade – Kiss My Ass and Call Me Fred, What Next?”

I know, I know…we are such a huge community of optimists here.

And I love that about us

I do! 🙂

But we all have our limits. That point where we tell optimism to fuck off!

After we’ve fallen through the hole of the shithouse two-seater, but before we decide whether to wallow in the muck and mire and drown in the sludge, or crawl out and take a damned shower!

Okay…this is me…post-wallow…yet…pre-crawl.

I’m covered in it, sticking with it, red-faced, and blotchy skinned from it…but I ain’t drowned.

I’m one slime-covered maggot with a boil on its ass away from dead, but not dead yet.

I still have one good leg and two good arms with which to push and pull my way out of this crap, and I’m using them now.

(Well, maybe the good leg’s not so useful on the keyboard, but hey, I’m giving it its due)

Stay tuned…my famous opening line is coming…as soon as I think of it.

Then watch out (or at least have an anti-microbial handi-wipe ready)

See ya soon!

In the meantime….

~

A circus owner runs an ad for a lion tamer and two people show up.

One is a good looking, older retired golfer in his late sixties and the other is a gorgeous blond in her mid-twenties.

The circus owner tells them, “I’m not going to sugar coat it.

This is one ferocious lion. He ate my last tamer so you two had better be good or you’re history.

Here’s your equipment — chair, whip and a gun.

Who wants to try out first?”

The girl says, “I’ll go first.” She walks past the chair, the whip and the gun and steps right into the lion’s cage.

The lion starts to snarl and pant and begins to charge her.

About halfway there, she throws open her coat revealing her beautiful naked body.

The lion stops dead in his tracks, sheepishly crawls up to her and starts licking her feet and ankles.

He continues to lick and kiss her entire body for several minutes and then rests his head at her feet.

The circus owner’s jaw is on the floor.

He says, “I’ve never seen a display like that in my life.”

He then turns to the retired golfer and asks,

“Can you top that?”

The tough old golfer replies,

“No problem, just get that lion out of there.”

Hey Claude…how’s tricks?

Time for another Email Funny! I LOVE my email buddies…:)

For your enjoyment…Claude the Hypnotist!

😆

After the community sing along led by Alice at the piano, it was time for the star of the show – Claude the Hypnotist!

Claude explained that he was going to put the whole audience into a trance.

“Yes, each and every one of you and all at the same time.” said Claude.

The excited chatter dropped to silence as Claude carefully withdrew from his waistcoat pocket; a beautiful antique gold pocket watch and chain.

“I want you to keep your eyes on this watch” said Claude, holding the watch high for all to see.

“It is a very special and valuable watch that has been in my family for six generations” said Claude.

He began to swing the watch gently back and forth while quietly chanting

“Watch the watch — Watch the watch —-Watch the watch”

The audience became mesmerized as the watch swayed back and forth.

The lights were twinkling as they were reflected from its gleaming surfaces.

A hundred and fifty pairs of eyes followed the movements of the gently swaying watch.

They were hypnotized.

And then, suddenly, the chain broke!!!

The beautiful watch fell to the stage and burst apart on impact!

“SHIT!” said Claude.

It took them three days to clean the Senior Citizens’ Center, and Claude was never invited there again.

Sometimes you just need to change your underwear

Have you ever had one of ‘those‘ days?

A day where nothing seems to go right?

One where you spend way too much time fighting with hair that refuses to stay the course, ride the center line of your head-road because it has another destination in mind?

Somewhere…out there ——–>^<<^>>^<>>>

Where no hair has gone before?

(ooooh weeeee bum bum bum bum buuuuuum)

Yeah, out there

mommy hair — **What?**
W A I T
**What?**

The bags under your eyes are big enough to hold your winter wardrobe and dark enough to draw questions like “Hey, when’d’ya have a nose job?”

One of those “I have nothing to wear” days because everything you put on feels both to small and too big at the same time?

Even your SHOES?

**Does anyone else see Sigourney Weaver hiding in a space closet here?**

I could have SWORN these fit yesterday! — **I could have *SWORN* these fit yesterday!**

So gawdawful a day that whatever you put in your mouth tastes like yesterday’s leftovers of last week’s Sunday supper?
(so bad that the furball the cat gagged up would be more appetizing?)

The blind man driving the thought truck through the dirt roads in your head is making you dizzy from all the twists and turns and stops and starts while he tries to figure out where the hell he’s going?

Pull over you idiot I'm gonna be sick! — **Pull over you idiot**
**I’m gonna be sick!**

Okay, you get the idea.

I had one of those days yesterday.
What didn’t make me cry, made me mad
What didn’t make me mad, made me cry

I stood looking out the back door
Leaking like a sieve, both from the eyes and from the mouth (#$%^$$%^$)
But, as luck would have it, we were ready to leave
We had made arrangements to meet Supe and others at the only watering hole in town

To raise a glass to the glory of the day, as every day Supe’s willing and able to be out is a good day
And here I was, bitchin’ and moanin’ about it

So…I turned my thoughts inward

And what do you suppose came to mind?

I HATE my underwear — **I *HATE* my underwear**

Then I wondered what I could possibly do to help turn this day around
I stood there searching and feeling every inch of myself

Physically and mentally

Wonder what men feel like in THEIR underwear? (oooooh...eenie meenie minie mo' mo' mo') :) — **Wonder what men feel like in THEIR underwear?**
*(oooooh…eenie meenie minie mo’ mo’ mo’)*
🙂

(Ooops…wrong mental picture. This was not one for you)

(Damn, not that one either…)

I left the doorway, went upstairs, stripped from the waist down, and got redressed

Having changed but one thing

…and you’ve likely guessed what that one thing is by now

Ahhhh, that's better! — **Ahhhh, that’s better!**

But, by God it helped.

It helped a LOT.

So…I’ve come to this conclusion:

When you have one of ‘those‘ days?

Check your underwear…it all starts with the foundation!

Baaaaaaad Foundation — **Baaaaaaad**
Foundation

(don’t laugh…we all know the foundation is key!)

I’ll leave you with one last thought…

The power of positive thinking is a great tool – an awesome tool and one I try to take out of my tool box every day

But on those days when the thoughts can’t be tooled with tools alone?

Go down underwear nothong….(hehe – nevermind!)

You get the idea 😉

Go in peace and good fitting underwear

(*thanking the internet for the images this time, for once, they are not my own. phew)

I need a Rosetta Stone!

Written by:
**Every Damned Person Who Ever Had To Learn The English Language!!**
Rules?
Rules for Rules!
Breaking Rules To Follow Rules!!
**Spreken ze Deutsch?**

Okay, it’s late.

Off to bed, right after I grab my tooths-brush and brush my tooths

Right?

Write??

Rite???

Arrrrrrrrgh

Nighty nite nyte 😉

Don’t Laugh

**Sometimes Facebook shares make my day just**
**Sparkle!**

Symbols and Signs ~ Signs and Symbols

Do you believe?

Big question.

There are signs everywhere.

Do you see them as such?

If you do, then you must believe they are signs.

But who determines what the signs mean?

To each his own?

Are there rules?

Some easy ones:

The palm of your hand itches:

You are coming into money.

You are going to have company.

I’ve heard both explanations and neither has been the case for me.

So far, it Just means my damned hand itches.

Ringing in your ears:

Someone is talking about you.

Oh yeah? Not anything to do with that 44 magnum you used for target practice, because it’s very important you know how to blow that poor tree to smithereens?

Whatever you say.

A black cat crosses your path:

Bad luck.

Well shit, I can have bad luck without a furry black puss within a 1,000 miles…so what gives?

But I’m guessing you get the idea.

Okay, so what of symbols?

Who decided what these ‘designs’ are symbols for?

Can we choose our own?

Can I say I like roosters so I’ve decided they are a symbol of love or happiness or well-being?

No…

The Greeks decided the cock was the symbol of victory over the night.

Hell…if anything I’d say he’s more a sign of him fucking up your morning (no pun intended)

But that’s just me.

We wear moons and stars in our ears…you wear one, he/she will wear one.

The universe is yours or maybe you see the moon/stars in each others eyes?

More like, I’m a cheap bastard and I’m only buying one set, you wear one and I’ll wear one. How about that?

We wear others too…either ones we’ve chosen, or others have chosen for us.

A bracelet with a circle:

Meant to symbolize the circle of life?

Karma?

Well, besides being ever thankful for the heartfelt gift and the generosity behind the giving…I can honestly say the one that’s been on my wrist for months now, has pretty much been my symbol for life going round in circles.

And personally, that fits.

Or hey…what of a piece with an infinity ∞ symbol:

Always and Forever?

Hell to the No…not in my experience and don’t believe it likely is for many.

We wear rings on our fingers…left hand, third finger:

Til death?

It could mean death, certainly…see below

Symbol of fidelity?

Sure, but only if you remember to take it off first, or leave it on and face the possibility of death…unnatural death that is.

The beginning and the end with just one?

Sure…one at a time.

You kiss someone and you hear thunder claps and see lighting strikes:

That person is The One; your Soul-mate.

Um, listen up folks…it means get your ass inside dummies.

I don’t mean to be judgmental. I do believe in live and let live and to each his own.

But…

I also believe there are times when signs and symbols get in the way of seeing life for what it is; seeing things for what they are.

Not hoodoo voodoo.

Not some preordained circumstance formed in the heavens waiting for the right moment to ‘come out’.

No…I think looking for / believing in / abiding by signs is too easy a trap to fall into for those looking for reasons for and meanings to, the things that occur in our lives, good or bad.

Shit happens…now there’s a sign I can live with

And I also think attributing symbolic meaning to the shapes and designs of life, can lead you down a path of missing the forest for the trees.

Of letting someone else do the thinking for you.

For me, I’d rather see something for what it is, appreciate it’s natural (or man-made) beauty in its own light, for its own sake, than believe it means something someone I’ve never met…will never meet…and believe knows enough nothing of my life to have a say about what I should think of it.

At least, that’s me now. No signs – No symbols – Just life

Just a mind wandering and pondering on a Saturday afternoon.

Um, helloooooooo Saturday. 🙂

Enjoy the rest of the weekend.

~♥~

WaG tHe DoG….

What the heck does that mean?

Just this:

I’ve become (dun dun dun)

A PIT-BULL – WOOF!

Now I actually know what that really means.

When you find something that you sink your teeth into and can’t seem to let go of because it

just HAS to get done

just HAS to be perfect

just HAS to get out there

Geesh…my doggy-jaw is E x H a U s T e D

For those that visit me here; are friends of mine on Facebook; do the Google-y +1 circle thing with me…you know what I’m talking about.

I’ve been buried in photos, copy, making videos, posting videos, making advertisements, paying for advertisements, and now my social pages are fraught with links to

You Tube

Craigslist

Backpage

more more more!

Our first Open House is this Sunday and all I want for Christmas is a BUYER!

In the meantime, however, I’ll keep slogging along, doing my thing, and hopefully not lose what family and friends I have because they are sick of me SeLLing My HoUsE all over cyberspace!

Oh…and did I tell you I have real estate agents?

😆

At least I HOPE I still do…oy what they must think of me!

Thanks for indulging though, now it’s time to go feed the dog!

Feeling Sluggish? Not such a bad thang!

I absolutely hate staring at this blank page when what I see staring back is, well, a blank page and my mind is also, a blankity blank.

Makes me feel sluggish.

So…naturally, when that happens, I go looking for that day’s alter ego.

And as luck would have it, I found it, or rather, it found me.

We shared some quality wine-time (before it got drunk and the mosquitoes showed up and ruined our party)

Too bad it ended so early because I was quite enthralled with these tales of a slug’s life.

Admittedly though, a tad runny at the mouth. Ewww.

Oh excuse my manners…I’ll introduce you.

Everybody? Meet my new friend.

If I tell you its name, I’ll ruin the lesson, so new friend will do for now:

What I learned during our luscious liquid lunch interested me enough to want to share it with you.

So, if you’ll allow, the slug‘s life lesson begins.

🙂

Did you know, that in addition to being a major part of his mobility requirements, his slime is actually a defense mechanism?

Yeah, I mean, who the hell wants to eat something that gross?

Nothing it seems. Smart little cuss.

And…as luck (? you’ll see) would have it

(kids, cover your eyes..this is for mommy and daddy)

it’s also a huge part of their (shhhh) sex life.

I KNOW!

Imagine?

(Okay, here’s where the third glass is starting to take affect. He fell off his perch mid-sentence and landed on the table; like a cat; feet first!

(that’s a joke…their whole body is one giant foot really)

one too many — **Oops. Schorry – Hiccup!**

To continue…

Of course, we humans secrete our own slime of a sort (well…we do!) but it’s nothing compared to these love bugs.

Slugg-ette drops chemicals into her slime letting Slugg-O know she’s ready.

Months go by…haha, not really but imagine how LONG it takes ol’ Slugg-O to mosey on over?

You might think sweet little Slugg-ette would get sick of waiting…but to hear my new friend tell it…

Slugg-O is packin’ heat and proud of it!

(So the signs on the garden wall are TRUE! Call 1-900-worththewait for a slimy good time!)

His slugg-o-schlong is HALF the size of his body!

Ahem…sorry, was daydreaming.

Anyway, Slugg-ette is staying put! She’s in for the loooong haul.

Once they do manage to mingle, their foreplay can last for hours!

(No surprise there, after waiting all that time? what’s the friggin rush)

But what IS surprising is these little rascals are into…

(kids? still covered? good)

K-I-N-K!

Absolutely!

Biting, tail lashing, licking up each others goo….Grrrrrrross!

But hey, whatever flexes your hose right?

Another interesting fact…and this is why I didn’t give you my new friend’s name…

Because Slugg-ette is Slugg-O and Slugg-O is Slugg-ette, if ya catch my drift.

Yeah, so I’ll call him/her Slugg-ett-O

(anyone else hearing Pinocchio music?)

What this means is that they are both hes and they are both shes and they can BOTH get preggers at the same time for gawd’s sake!

(My head just exploded. Who’s your Daddy? Baby Mama? I’m so confused!)

But all is not wine and roses for these poor dude(ttes).

Sometimes, when they are done with the fun, their fun parts aren’t having any fun a’tal.

Why? Because their schlugg schlongs can get stuck in their own goo!

And as it hardens mid wham-bam thank ya man/am, before ya know it?

SUPER GOO-ED.

Gulp…and the only way out? Can ya guess?

Don’t – it’s a gawd awful picture.

I’ll just tell ya.

One gnaws off the other’s ‘peter piper picked the wrong place to get stuck’.

Yup…the slug version of Bobbittized!

But don’t cry for them Argentina (salt’s bad for them anyway).

Shed no salty tears, all is not as it appears.

Not only is it not fatal to the one who happened to get stuck in the prickle jar…it’s a whole new life!

Basically, your garden variety transgender operation.

Nature amazes doesn’t it?

Seems the dearly depetered goes off to live a normal, happy, Slugg-ett-O life as strictly a female.

A whole new slug. Slugg-ette for ever and ever.

Cool huh?

That’s all we had time for during our first meet and greet; the bugs were bitin’ and Slugg-ett-O

(yeah, I asked…was still packin’)

was obviously slime-faced!

But here’s his parting shot, and if I do say, not a bad looking she-fellow when you get to know her/im

See ya ’round…ya ol’ slimeball! 🙂

an hour later — **Catchya later gater!**
**Next time, I’ll bring the refreshments…If you dare!**

Why I Still Read the Newspaper…with RELISH!

For those of you who take advantage of digital technology to keep up with current affairs in your communities, states, country, or the world, you don’t know what you are missing.

Perhaps it’s because you are too young to remember what it was like to open a newspaper. The sound, the smell, and the ink on your fingers. Or maybe you don’t have the leisure time every day to sit and peruse your local rag.

Whatever the reason, it’s too bad, you are missing out on a truly satisfying and, sometimes, very entertaining past time.

This is my Ode To Print…with sincere thanks for all the years of joy.

Hope you enjoy as much as I do…