Sep 202011
 

I got this by email this morning, and it’s too funny not to share. I laughed. I cried. Mostly, I laughed….

 

Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife… A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:

Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest…

The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety….??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home, loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I’d get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.

AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5″ long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, ‘no possible way!’ What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best …

I’m sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say, ‘Don’t do it stupid,’ reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny li’l ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and …

HOLY MOTHER OF… WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE ….!!!

I’m pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs!

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.

Note: If you ever feel compelled to ‘mug’ yourself with a tazer, one note of caution: there is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor! A three second burst would be considered conservative!

A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.. I had no control over the drooling.

Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair. I’m still looking for my testicles and I’m offering a significant reward for their safe return!

P.s… My wife can’t stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!

Sep 082011
 

So, on weekdays when the Big Guy goes off to work, he usually leaves me at home with Sneetch the Wonderdog. Sneetch watches Nickelodeon in the morning and when I wake up – usually mid- to late-afternoon – Sneetch and I start channel surfing and usually watch a little Cops or Lost in Space or something. Sneetch can’t change the channels by himself… no opposable thumbs.

Well, the other morning I just couldn’t get to sleep. I’d been playing Star Wars Battlefront II all night (and let me just say if I had been born a Super Battle Droid long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, then that whole “revolution” thing would have ended completely different) and I just couldn’t get to sleep.

So, I went in and watched Nickelodeon with Sneetch. He was watching something called Bubble Guppies. I’d never heard of it before. But these little tadpole characters would ask questions, and Sneetch would answer them. (I think he thinks they can actually hear him. Silly puppy.)

Anyway… they asked “What sound does a cow make?” and Sneetch said, “Moo! Moo!” They said he was right.

Next they asked what sound does a horse make, and Sneetch said “Nay, nay!” He got that one right, too. I don’t know why creatures that live under the sea are so interested in the vocabulary of terrestrial animals, but there it is.

Finally, they asked what sound a pig makes. Sneetch and I shouted out the answer together. Apparently, the right answer – or, at least the one they were looking for – was “Oink, oink.” We still think we were right, though; we said, “sizzle! Sizzle!”

Bacon. It’s what’s for dinner. Pity there isn’t a song about it.

The Tune: Bacon in D (PDF)

Jul 142011
 

A teacher was reading the story of the Three Little Pigs to her class.

She came to the part of the story where first pig was trying to gather the building materials for his home.

She read. ‘And so the pig went up to the man with the wheelbarrow full of straw and said: ‘Pardon me sir, but may I have some of that straw to build my house?’

The teacher paused then asked the class: ‘And what do you think the man said?’

One little boy raised his hand and said very matter-of-factly…

‘I think the man would have said – ‘Well, I’ll be ******!! A talking pig!’

Jul 142011
 

When I got out of bed this today right at the crack of noon – an unholy early hour for getting out of bed, I’m sure you’ll agree – and stumbled into the kitchen, hoping to score a slice of leftover pizza for breakfast, you can no doubt imagine my delight when I discovered the remains of a bag of peanut butter cookies. These were the Oreo style of sandwich cookies with a crunchy cookie on each side of a sweet peanut butter filling. Mmm.

Of course, my first instinct was to shout “COOKIES!!!!!” and make “om-nom-nom-nom” noises while I devoured them with reckless abandon. However, I fought back my baser urges and decided to approach them with somewhat more refinement.

I decided first of all that they would be eminently more enjoyable if they were double-wides instead of single-wides. I love the whole “Double Stuff” meme, but it has yet to catch on with Garden Faire generic cookies. So, I was forced to re-engineer.

I carefully removed the top from one cookie, leaving the stuffing on the second half. I ate the first cookie top – waste not want not – and then performed the same operation on a second cookie.

Once the second cookie was in two parts, I ate the bottom half – the half with the cookie and the stuffing – and then carefully attached the top half to the bottom half of the first cookie. Then I stepped back to admire my handiwork….

And discovered that I had just recreated a single-stuff cookie.

DRAT!

I ate the wrong half of the second cookie and only recreated a regular cookie, but now with mismatched halves. It isn’t easy conducting a successful cookie surgery when you’re forced to get out of bed that early in the afternoon.

-T

Jul 112011
 

Once upon a time when wishing still helped and when kings and queens still mattered, there lived a great and terrible monster. He was green and furry and ferocious and he lived under a bridge and would sometimes eat people who tried to cross.

Telford is in no way related to that monster.

Telford was born into a small family of monsters living in a small log cabin on a small street in lower Manhattan. The small part of it. His father drove the short bus and his mother took in a little washing to help make ends meet. Most people thought a monster from that part of town would never amount to much, but Telford was never one to think small.

Telford dreamed of one day leaving Manhattan and setting out for the city. The big city. It wasn’t that he wasn’t fond of his rural roots or the pastoral setting in which he grew up… he just dreamed of something more. But he knew he would have to have a way to get there, and so he saved up his allowance and bought a bicycle.

He could never have dreamed how far that bicycle would carry him.

One day while out riding his bicycle, he met a fellow cyclist with whom he became fast friends. This other cyclist was to have a major impact on the young Telford’s life, because it was none other than Bob Roll, famed bicycle racer and power player on the international racing scene. Under Bob’s capable tutelage, Telford soon found himself at the front of the pro peloton and became the first monster to win the Tour de France (Muppet Division) on a bicycle with training wheels.

Though Telford found himself at the top of the game, he decided to leave professional racing. Those were dark days for cycling; the Count von Count doping scandal* [“Von! Von vunderful injection! Tvoo! Tvoo vunderful injections! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”] was casting a shadow over bicycle racing and transforming it into an environment that had no appeal to young Telford.

Telford made the decision to leave that life behind him. He enrolled in the prestigious Sesame Street School of Art, Business, and the Number Three where he majored in Theater Arts and had a minor in the letter O.

College was a special time for Telford. He met his first true love, Cameron Diaz, while they were both theater students. Though their romance was short lived, it was filled with passion and to this day Diaz will tell you that she has never met a finer monster. **

After college, Telford returned briefly to his parents homestead. The old log cabin seemed somehow smaller. The bus his father drove seemed even shorter. But most of all, old Manhattan itself seemed somehow to have shrunk. Telford decided it was time to move on.

Packing his few belongings and kissing his mother goodbye, Telford left Manhattan forever and set out for a new life and a new adventure in the bustling metropolis of Kansas City.

Today, Telford pursues a vigorous work schedule packed with speaking engagements, storytellings, lectures, product endorsements, and the occasional acting gig. Though busy, Telford wouldn’t trade his life for anything.

* Count von Count was of course later cleared of all alleged wrongdoing when it was proven than French racing officials were deliberately tampering with testing samples in an effort to besmirch the good name of such a prominent and non-French competitor.
** The two remain friends today and will frequently get together for dinner or drinks when they find themselves working on a project in the same city.