Category Archives: Humor

Great Marketing


I saw this at a hockey game and just had to take a picture.

What great marketing!


Argh!


It’s just not right I tell you. *pout*

After my little hiking victory, I am anxious to try other activities. I swear I thought I’d never be able to do stuff again. Cancer treatments colored my world. Now, there’s going to be a two-day event to showcase outdoor activities, gear, clubs, and retailers in my city next weekend and I am working the booth for the hiking club. I have been excited about going because you can try the climbing wall, kayaking, canoeing, and other activities for free. I really wanted to try the climbing wall.

But alas, it is not to be! *dramatic hand placed on forehead as head leans back in despair*

My shoulder has been inflamed from tendonitis (stupid shoulder), and the doctor told me no climbing walls or kayaks until the inflammation goes down. To be more precise, he said, “If you climb the wall or kayak next week, you will have a very bad afternoon. The pain will be intense.” *grumble* I’d be mad at the doctor, except he’s really cute and nice.

So now I must wait until a later date to climb a wall, sigh. But do I really need to be practical? Maybe I’ll risk it 🙂 I guess I should ask myself if the climb will be worth a weekend of pain. I must decide. Do I flip a coin, take a poll? Ah life’s critical decisions can be so difficult. Woe is me, a sad puppy!

*close dramatically*

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


What to Say, What to Say?


I had a bit of writer’s block trying to think about what I could write, so I decided to write about writer’s block. These are just some of the things that I like to do to get inspired:

1. Watch your pets. My pets like to embarrass me. Many years ago, my cat ran happily down the street with a feminine napkin clutched in his mouth. I pretended I didn’t know him, but the neighbors knew where he lived.

2. Or, they like to annoy me. This week my cat, Nicolas, discovered my bra hanging to dry. As I was carrying laundry to my room, my bra flew past me with Nicolas in pursuit. Then I pursued Nicolas to save my bra before he could fling it again.

Nicolas, resting before hunting undergarments.

3. Watch nature. I was exiting onto a highway heading toward Beavercreek, Ohio. I looked to the grassy area to my right, and there was a beaver exiting onto the highway heading towards Beavercreek.

A light snack before the journey.

4. Listen to people. They say strange things. I told a girl my mother was from Mexico. She responded with, “But was your mother born there because she was from there or because your parents were traveling through there?”

Say what?

5. Watch people. That’s fun. How many times this summer did I drive by couples mowing the lawn- the wife pushing the mower with all her might, and the husband standing and watching her do it!

Behind every one of these is a tired woman.

6. And sometimes it’s sad. I remember seeing a very old indigenous woman in Cholula, Mexico. Her back was so distorted she was bent over double, and she was carrying a large bundle of sticks. I think carrying bundles of sticks is probably what messed up her back to begin with.

Ok, so that's not an old, indigenous woman. That's my mom. (And she is gonna kill me when she sees this!)

7. Pay attention to your surroundings. I drove past a prison in Texas. There was a giant sign on the highway that said: “Prison Area. Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers.” This was placed next to a covered rest area where the escaped prisoners could rest while they hitchhiked.

Anyone need a lift?

8. Family is a gold mine. Well, at least mine is. My great-grandfather was killed during the Mexican Revolution. Cool, a hero! Not quite. He was an accountant and he kept the soldiers’ books- and their wives.

Can't keep his eyes off the babes!

9. Then there was a great-grandmother, I think, on my dad’s side who dressed her dog up in children’s clothing, placed him in a high chair, and spoon fed him.

This one's not in a high chair, but you get the idea. My family likes to dress their pets.

Ok, writer’s block has taken over. Someone give me some more ideas, please!

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


An Uncomfortable Business


There few times when you are more vulnerable as when you are indisposed of in the, ahem, powder room. I had just settled down to do my business, so to speak, and it’s none of your business what that business was, when I heard a buzz.

Bzzzzzz…bzzzzzz…bzzzzz.

I froze, my concentration broken (and for those of you who think none of this takes concentration, just wait till you get startled in action!).

Bzzzzzz…bzzzzzz…bzzzzz.

I looked around me, trying to find the little devil before he found me.

Bzzzzzz…bzzzzzz…bzzzzz.

On my thigh, oh boy, get ’em! Get ’em!

I missed. Damn! I lunged at the retreating mosquito with my hand as he flew merrily away. Ok, well I couldn’t sit there all day, so I tried to get on with my business while looking frantically around me and waving my hands across any exposed flesh to keep the little hunter from landing.

He swooped past me once, twice. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, my head swayed to and fro. I smacked at the air. He ducked and evaded. I tried to hurry. There he was again, heading for my ankle. I bent, thereby interrupting any business, and swatted at the fool. This was getting ridiculous. I completed my business transaction, and threw the door open in hopes that the little bugger would fly away. I don’t know if he did or not because I lost sight of him. But I danced a little jig as I washed my hands (as I hope you all do- I mean wash your hands, not dance a jig), moving my arms and legs to make it tough to land. I escaped the restroom unscathed but traumatized (ok, that’s a bit dramatic). All in all, it was a most uncomfortable business.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


The Spy in Pink


I work as an editor and writer. This is a dream come true. For years I have been running around correcting people and getting in trouble for it. No one, seems to, appreciate, the proper use, of commas. But now they pay me to correct folks! It’s marvelous! Who could ask for more?

The company that pays me to use my little red pen with wanton abandon is in a secured facility. No visitors are allowed in without an appointment and an escort, I mean someone walking them through the building, not a woman for hire and pleasure, although that may be allowed under certain circumstances. This week, there was a security breach (cue in dramatic music). Very exciting.

I learned about it as I was sitting down at my desk to eat my lunch. I was a bit peeved because my soup blew up in the microwave (damn those infernal machines!) and I got soup on the sleeve of my pink sweater, one of my favorites that I bought at Zara in Mexico City. So before I could eat, I had to run over to the sink area on my floor and wash up.

As I was rinsing the soup off my sleeve, one of the vice presidents exited the restroom. He looked at me, but didn’t say anything. It’s a very small company, so I wasn’t going to be rude, and I said hello to him. He said hello back and went on his way. I returned to my desk to eat my lunch while I worked.

A few minutes later, at precisely the moment I was shoving a spoonful of soup in my mouth (timing is everything), the VP walks quickly past my door, then walks quickly backwards and looks at me. The CEO’s assistant was right behind him in the hallway and he almost backed into her. I swallowed my soup.

“Did you change your hair or something?” He asked.

“I’m wearing my contacts today,” I replied, confused.

“I didn’t recognize you! I thought you were a customer running around.”

I laughed, “That’s why you didn’t say hi to me?”

“Yes, you look different.”

“Well I did part my hair to the right instead of the left.”

“I have people running around looking for a woman in a pink sweater.”

I laughed, “Really? I didn’t think I looked that different.”

“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it. I really thought you were an unattended customer. We called the front desk to see if there were visitors today and everything and they told us there weren’t.”

The CEO’s assistant was laughing in the hallway, and calling off the search. They had found the corporate spy munching on bread and eating soup in her office. I was laughing so hard I was almost crying. The VP just looked embarrassed.

I think I better go and find that VP when my new eyeglasses come in next week. They look completely different from the ones I have been wearing, and I just want to make sure he knows it’s just me. Come to think of it, maybe I’ll recommend my optometrist so the VP can get a new pair of glasses too.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


Her Pretty Little Pearls


She was bored. The mass always took so long and she just wanted to go outside and run and play. She swung her little legs in agitation, breathing deeply. She looked around for a distraction. Her sister sat next to her, dressed all in white for her First Holy Communion. A sparkle caught the little girl’s eye. Pearls- beautiful, little pearl-like beads that her mother had carefully sewn into her sister’s First Communion dress.

She reached and caught one between her fingers. Her sister did not notice. She liked the feel of the pearl, it was cool and smooth and small. She carefully plucked it off her sister’s dress and laid it down into the crevice where the pew back met the seat. It looked perfect against the smooth, varnished wood of the pew. But it looked lonely. The little girl looked around. No one was paying attention to her. The voice of the priest droned on. It was such a pretty day outside. Oh well. She reached out and plucked another pearl from the dress and laid it next to the first. That was better.

Now she rolled the pearls against the pew. The feel of their smooth forms was enchanting. But they needed company. She reached out to grab another and her sister noticed. She slapped the little girl’s hand away and told her to stop in an angry whisper. But the little girl knew that her sister couldn’t make a scene because they were in church. That would be a sin and she would get into lots of trouble. She gleefully snatched another pearl and added it to the others.

Her sister glared at her and the little girl smiled. She felt all giggly inside as she grabbed another pearl off the dress. Her sister slapped at her again and told her mother. The little girl’s mother snapped her fingers and told her to leave her sister’s dress alone. The little girl stopped. The priest droned on. The temptation was too much. She quietly reached out and grabbed another pearl to add to her collection. They looked so pretty. Her mother snapped her fingers again. That’s two. One more snap and she’d get a spanking or a punishment of some kind.

It will be worth it, she thought, as she happily plucked several pearls from her sister’s dress, adding them to the row on the pew. She could hear her sister complain to their mother. She vaguely heard the third snap of her mother’s fingers. But none of that mattered. She was entranced and delighted by her collection of beautiful pearls, her pretty little pearls.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


Do Not Drive Slowly Throughout the Dark Night




Just some fun with Dylan Thomas:

Do not drive slowly throughout the dark night,
Old ladies driving, blocking up the way;
Race, race against the changing of the light.

A semi-truck turning towards the right,
Its giant body keeping cars at bay
Do not drive slowly throughout the dark night.

A Cadillac its headlights on too bright,
Thus blinding you and causing you delay
Race, race against the changing of the light.

Mini vans in front hindering your flight,
All traffic laws they feel they must obey
Do not drive slowly throughout the dark night.

Your home ahead and almost within sight
Oh why must traffic be so dense today?
Race, race against the changing of the light.

Your patience now has reached its greatest height
But finally you make it home to stay.
Do not drive slowly throughout the dark night.
Race, race against the changing of the light.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


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