Category Archives: Humor

Little Bitty Human

I posted Little Bitty Gator several days ago and, as crazy as it sounds, it’s an absolutely true post! A blogging friend, Judy at (theprojectbyjudy.wordpress.com) suggested a fictional follow-up story from the alligator’s point of view! Thanks Judy! This post is fictional…just in case you wonder…  Here goes:

Weird things happened to Buck. He’s an 8 foot long, adult alligator that lives on the Texas Gulf Coast near the Louisiana border.

When he first popped out of the egg, Papa Gator immediately noticed his teeth were all messed up. All the other hatchlings had nice, straight teeth. In a fit of anger he told Mama Gator, “That buck toothed, crooked smile, cross-eyed thing can’t be my son!”  Papa called him Buck from then on.

Papa and Mama Gator had it out more than once over Buck! Papa Gator accused her of going several miles over and visiting one of the Louisiana riff raff gators when Papa and some of his buddies were on vacation one week trolling for house cats in golf course ponds. Continue reading Little Bitty Human

Little Bitty Gator

He’s says it was on his bucket list, but most people don’t have jumping on the back a wild alligator in water over their head on their bucket list.  Yet, he did.

Two of my sons, Blake, who was 24 at the time, and Todd, who was 21, were night fishing in a Gulf Coast bayou. They noticed the red glare of eyes near their 15 foot flat bottom boat. The fish weren’t biting, so they started trolling up to and around the glaring eyes that belonged to different sizes of alligators.

Todd, we call him Einstein for short, decided he needed to bare handed catch and release an alligator, but not a ten foot or bigger one, because that would be foolish, right? And not a four foot or smaller one, because that would be too easy.  Uh huh, yeah. Continue reading Little Bitty Gator

What’s That Smell?

“What’s da smell?”, the truck driver asked.

Our shipping guy was making a copy for the driver about to deliver an 18 wheeler load of lumber to Tulsa and answered, “It’s Scentsy! Vanilla Bean Buttercream with a bit of French Lavender!”

Amused, I looked up and commented how it smelled more like a Hallmark store than a sawmill shipping office.

“I know!! My wife is selling this stuff. I’m advertising for her! You need to buy a little bit for your Mrs. so when you come home all smellin’ and stinky like, it’ll take your bad smell away.”  Winking he added, “It’ll give some class where you stay at!”

The big truck driver looked really uncomfortable. He started shifting side to side, looped one thumb through a strap of his blue jean overalls, and started rubbing his head with his other hand.   Continue reading What’s That Smell?

The 55 Plus Club

I turned 55 a few days ago. It’s the speed limit birthday, the double nickel, the best domino on the table!

They say 60 is the new 40, but it was an aging Baby Boomer who came up with that malarkey!

They also say you’re only as old as you feel! That’s no comfort!  I feel like a Model T!!

A redeeming factor about turning 55 is a “senior discount”!  Can I get an amen, or oh me!?

Busy as a Bee

Each year a couple of bee swarms show up at work.  Local beekeepers wanted to start charging to catch a swarm. Forget that.

Yet, employees and bees don’t mix well.  In fact, a couple of folks are deadly allergic to bee stings.  Besides, honey bees are nature’s Cupid and pollinate 75% of plant life, so instead of killing them, I decided to move them myself.  The beekeepers had white suits, mesh hats, gloves and smokers.  I didn’t have any of that, but I’d watched them before, so I’m an “expert”…

The swarm was about eye level on a beam right above a hydraulic unit.

Since I didn’t have beekeeper equipment, I buttoned my collar, cinched down jacket sleeves and put on gloves.  Armed with a cardboard box and a lid, I started toward the clingy, hanging wad of live honey bees. After the first bee accidentally flew into my neck a good ways from the swarm, I pondered the consequences and wished for a meshed beekeeper hood. Continue reading Busy as a Bee

Brotherly Love Through Air Soft

The natives were restless. It was the fifth day of no power after a hurricane knocked out power lines throughout East Texas. It would be several days longer before electricity was restored. The only power came from a generator that ran a freezer, fridge and a couple of fans, nothing else.

The boys were getting a war-torn look in their eyes. They were bored.

One of life’s formulas is: Bored teenage boys = dangerous ideas divided by stupid actions.  It’s just a fact of life.

They boys played all the games they knew, even invented new ones, but it was Jared, who was 16 at the time, was the first to cross the “throw down and fight line”.  He ambushed his three brothers from behind with an air soft gun. Continue reading Brotherly Love Through Air Soft

CPR Trauma

I sat through a First Aid/CPR class with fifteen men I work with.  The instructor asked if anyone had used CPR before.

From the back of the room, I slowly slipped my hand up.  She wheeled on me like a Doberman Pinscher staring at an Oscar Meyer hot dog and commanded, “Tell us about it.”

Suddenly thrust into the limelight in front of co-workers, I started. “Well”, shrugging my shoulders, “Twenty-five years ago I was sitting in a little cafe minding my own business.  It was 3:00 in the afternoon so there was hardly anyone else there except an old man and two elderly ladies.  All of the sudden I heard a commotion and one of the old ladies was trying to hold up the man who had slumped over the table.  She was shaking him yelling, ‘Don’t you die on me! Don’t you die on me!’”

“I ran over and pulled the man out of the chair onto the floor. His eyes were rolled back in his head and he wasn’t breathing, but he had a feint, irregular pulse.  I figured he’d had a heart attack.” Continue reading CPR Trauma

The Ire of Staying Healthy

My doctor told me during the exam it was time.

I took a deep breath.  I knew this day was coming.  I resolved then and there to cowboy up and get it done.

I’ve been flying under the radar for several years.  No problems. No issues. No medicine. Just the way it should be!

But this year, instead of the vampire nurse just draining a week’s worth of bone marrow work from my arm, the doctor tells me he wants to check out several other things.

First, a sleep apnea study — No problem. Sleep is my one of my natural talents!  Passed with flying colors!

Second, a stress test — Continue reading The Ire of Staying Healthy

Homecoming and Prom

Two of the worst nights of the year are Homecoming and Prom, and Saturday night was Prom.  Some people may think that’s an odd thing to say, but to dads of teenage daughters, they get it in spades.

It’s just a snapshot of the future, way, way off in the future hopefully, when a dad has to walk his daughter down the aisle.  They’ll be radiant in white flowing gowns, smiling all the way, but the dad walks beside them white faced, grimacing, needing Pepto-Bismol and anti-depressants!

A daughter’s “happiest day ever” is like the most dreaded day to most dads. It’s like taking a rare, precious, porcelain doll worth millions of dollars and handing it over to a gorilla! Continue reading Homecoming and Prom

Income Tax Blues

I hate, Hate, HATE taxes!

And thanks to more government regulations, some tax 1099 Forms that have a REMIC/WHFIT didn’t have to be mailed out until March 15. They don’t extend the tax deadline for the average Joe though. (Joe…though….see what I did there? Made a rhyme!! 😉 )

It’s not that I mind paying my fair share (another rhyme!) as long as the fair share is spent wisely.  But by the time the bureaucrats in government finish inflating the arm and leg paid in taxes, the fair share will only be enough for a government contractor to buy a hammer and box of nails!  Or maybe pay some healthy, able bodied man to stay home and draw housing, food stamps, Medicaid, welfare and a free cell phone each month while I work.  Whichever you prefer, Uncle Sam. You decide. Continue reading Income Tax Blues