A Lovely Joke

Normally, I don't like jokes. Don't know why. You'd think I do. But I don't. Should. But don't.

That said, I did hear a joke I thought was blog worthy.

So. Gather everyone around. Quiet. Ready?

And thus begins the joke:

Seems there was a monastery high in the mountains. The rules at this monastery were quite strict. Talking was forbidden. Always. Except once a year...on Christmas...one monk could say one sentence and one sentence only. And each year, it changed from monk to monk.

So, one Christmas, as all the monks were sitting down to dinner...they awaited what Brother Duncan would say. He rose from the table, looked at everyone and said, "I think these mashed potatoes are quite good." Then he sat down.

The next Christmas...365 days later, it was Brother Michael's turn to speak. He rose from the table, looked at the others and said, "I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy." He then sat down.

365 days later...at Christmas dinner...it was Brother Andrew's turn to speak. He rose from the table and said, "I'm sick and tired of all this bickering!"

That's the end of the joke.

Mrs. Yortson And The Kindly Elf

Mac Drivel, my creative writing teacher at Burbank City College. has encouraged me to put some of my short stories on my blog. He says it will give me the confidence I need to overcome by fear of narratives. Seems I don't like stories per se, but enjoy typing quite a bit. So, here goes.

Mrs. Yortsen And The Kindly Elf represents my first attempt at the French writing method of 'calligraphie inepte'. I got the idea for the story while watching a snake eat a mouse at our local Petco. Mac Drivel has encouraged us to choose a color that represents the basic mood of the story. I have chosen amber. But I think you will also detect a hint of green. Although, one sentence is decidedly blue.

'Calligraphie inepte' was quite popular during the Renaissance. Blathord L'Blanc, a French physician and mortician, invented the technique while embalming a circus monkey.

Anyway, enough stalling. (I'm just so nervous.) Here it is.

Mrs. Yortsen And The Kindly Elf. By Paul Rugg. 12/2/2010. Mac Drivel's Creative Writing Class. Room 321. Seat 32C.

"Swoon!" went the noises which were heard by Mrs. Yortsen and yet not made by her! (The sounds I mean.) "Swish!" Again there was another noise which caused within her an interest to arise as to what those sounds could be as she sat there at the kitchen table in a chair by the window while looking outside and wondering what the sounds were.

As if by magic or something else akin to magic yet not of this world, a deep thrumming began to osculate the rich humus of her yard. Humus was heaved mightily and when the heaving eventually ceased, a hole was noticed by her. (Mrs. Yortsen.)

Mrs. Yortsen rose from her sitting position in the chair and pushed away from the table that the chair was near. A gasp rose in her throat and eventually came out as an audible noise. This was a noise of surprise and it sounded something like, "Whhhhhaaaaaat?" (Only in gasp form. Like if you sat on a tack. I don't know how to spell that noise.)

She was wearing slippers, so Mrs. Yortsen thought it would be fine to run outside. Whereas, if she hadn't been wearing slippers, she would have to had to gotten them first which would have meant she needed to go upstairs. But she didn't. (Which is lucky for the story. Because the scene upstairs where she gets her slippers was kind of boring. That's the blue sentence I told you about.)

Throwing open the door, yet with its hinges still in place, meaning that she didn't actually throw the door but merely opened it aggressively, Mrs. Hamilton (who had changed her name from Mrs. Yortsen in a scene that I decided to not include) ran to the hole, bent over and looked inside.

"I am an elf! And stuck at that! Timberdee!" (That was something this elf said as an expression.)

Mrs. Hamilton (aka Mrs. Yortsen former wife of Mayor Beld Yortsen whom had been arrested five years earlier for stealing tax funds and was now in jail and THAT was the reason Mrs. Hamilton [Yorsten] decided to change her name in the scene I decided not to include) make another gasp sound.

"I shall fetch a shovel and dig you out," said Mrs. Hamilton happily to the elf. (I don't mean to imply that Mrs. Hamilton was happy at this point in the story. But merely that she said it happily. There's a big difference.)

With that, she dug the elf out of the hole, but unfortunately pierced his heart in the process. He died soon thereafter. Fearing that she would be suspected as having killed an elf...and already worried about the fact that her husband was in jail and if she went to jail who would look after Ben, their son who was at a sleep-away camp in the mountains...she buried the elf. But only after going through his pocket for money. (Elves, as a general rule, only have one pocket. Woodland dwarves have more than that, but they do not figure into this story.)

The end.

My First Turkey

I'm sure we've all been there. That first time you cook a turkey on your own. As dusk gives way to the mellow meanderings of autumn orangeness and whispy wantings (I've been taking a writing class), I am drawn back to my first attempt at roasting a turkey. It was shortly after marrying my wife.

My wife is, in case you didn't know, from Cuba. Cubans are a thrifty people. After coming to America they usually celebrated Thanksgiving by eating a single raspberry and then arguing with each other about when Castro would die. Then they'd say it was too cold and everyone would put on a coat.

And so, I was determined to give my dearest wife a true American Thanksgiving. A proper Thanksgiving. As an American, I was perfectly suited to do just that.

And what better way to do that than to purchase a fresh turkey from a fresh turkey farm. These turkeys were so fresh they were still living. I brought home my live turkey (by the way, they make a mess in the car) and set about to prepare it for dinner.

I didn't know much about cooking. But I knew an oven was vital to the process. I preheated it to 325 and put the turkey in. It was hard getting it in there. It tried to snap at me a few times, but I eventually lured it in with some candy corn.

What I remember the most is the noise. For about a half an hour it put up a pretty good fight. It pecked at the glass and made some unusual noises which I drowned out with an Enya CD.

Eventually its feathers caught fire. When I opened the oven door it ran out and caught my dog on fire. My word! What a time. I grabbed the turkey with a towel and threw it in the shower. I turned on the water and it drowned. I felt bad for a while....but I LOVE turkey, so I brought it back to the oven.

Anyway...what a time! Ha ha ha! I'll never do that again. From that day on all my turkey's have been dead, de-feathered and gibblet-less. However, I have since stuffed them all with candy corn.

"A RETURN TO NORMALCY"

I don't often quote our 29th president, Warren G. Harding, but in this case I think it's appropriate.

My first blig in over three months indeed marks a return to normalcy. Although, when I say that, I don't hold my fist like I'm crushing a defenseless bee.

So, where the heck have I been? Unfortunately...gainfully employed on three different projects. One is now completed and I can again turn my attention to important matters...like bligging.

And what better way to return to bligging than bligging about our 29th president. Most people don't know a lot about Warren G. Harding. In fact, most 5th grade students have never even heard of him. In most textbooks he's simply referred to as 'Our 29th President'. In some textbooks in the San Francisco School District, he's simply referred to as 'That mean president.' Those same textbooks refer to President Taft as, 'Lard ass'.

Anyway, here are some things you may want to know about Warren G. Harding:

1. Harding began each morning by killing seven ferrets with his bare hands. While most of us might think that's a rather strange way to start the day, Harding explained that, "The regular killing of a ferret enlivens one's humors, reduces turbidity and has no to equal in the reduction of hand callouses. What's more, I enjoy it."

2. Harding detested the term 'baker's dozen' and lobbied congress heavily to have its use federally outlawed. Harding became so obsessed with this issue that it nearly paralyzed his presidency. In his memoirs, "Harding!" Harding wrote, "I think a dozen should be a dozen. 12 is 12. Are we so immutable and languid as to allow bakers to undo thousands of years of mathematical progress, not to mention the dumbification of untold children merely for the sake of ignominious hyperbole? Should we allow this aberration to stand, I see no reason why other trades won't insist on their own proclivities of numeration. We may have a Fisherman's Dozen which by my accounting would be 15! A Mason's dozen could reach the unwieldy valuation of 19. And a Pharmacists dozen could lead to innumerable abrasions of the eye."

3. An amateur botanist, Harding spent his later years trying to breed a geranium with a Siamese cat. He explained by insisting that, "This hybrid species would not only flower each spring, but purr as well. What's more it would be pleasing to the touch and could take its nourishment from the earth rather than the can." Harding claimed he had succeeded in breeding the strange hybrid and even displayed it at the 1923 meeting of the Chicago Botanical Society. Harding was rebuked however when it was discovered he had simply taken the head of a cat and stuck it onto a geranium stalk. Harding vehemently denied the charge, but later conceded after a dead, headless Siamese cat was discovered in his waistcoat. For years Harding insisted such a hybrid could be bred, "if it were not for the encumbrances of time and common sense."

BOARD MEETING REMINDER

Just a reminder to everyone: we're going to have our Froynlaven board meeting tomorrow in the small conference room on the 2nd floor. (Across from that bigger room with those things on the door.)

I know it's Saturday, but I'd like us to get started at 8am sharp. We're going to have a presentation by our landscape chairman, Len Buttress, and I'd like everyone to be there. Len came by yesterday and gave me an overview and it was almost interesting.

Mrs. Yorgenson has also put together a subversive powerpoint presentation which we'll be showing after Len's.

Also, the maintenance people have informed me the restrooms will be closed for repair. So, I suggest everyone bring a jar or some other means of sanitary collection.

As always, Bridget has asked that we all pitch in and bring at least one side-dish. She's also asked me to remind everyone about Mrs. Layette's food allergies. So please don't bring anything that's been exposed to peanuts, eggs, bananas, greens, milk, wheat, meat from hoofed animals, air, felt, or poultry.

In order to help Bridget, would you all kindly respond with what you'll bring? That way, we won't duplicate and avoid the fight we had last month.

Billy Sawson has asked that we put 5 minutes on the agenda so he can show us that Abraham Lincoln superhero cartoon that he's worked so hard on. I think it's only fair that we support Billy in his efforts, so let's all try not to make fun of him like we did last time. (Ben? Mrs. Yorgenson?)

Also, I hate to mention this, but I'd ask everyone to try to shower before the meeting and use a good deodorant soap. (LifeBoy, Lava, Irish Spring, Dial, Zest) All these can be found at your local supermarket. Please avail yourself of these products.

I hope to conclude the meeting by 9pm. So, if anyone would like to go out afterwards, I think that would be nice. Kay Mamers has said that we're all welcome to come to her house. She'd like to remind everyone that her dogs bite if you look at them, so bring your special glasses.

Okay then, I'll see you all tomorrow.

OUCH!!!!

Thanks to Kevin for sending this my way. Now, I finally know what I would do if I had a hammer...

A 4th Of July Referral...

Thanks to LuminouSpecter for this...