Frances Ellen Speaks!

Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

By now, I hope everyone has discovered  RefDesk

It’s my home page. I think you can find just about anything you could ever dream of on this page. It’s chock full of trivia and what’s new in the news. Some of the daily things you will find on this page are:

Site of the Day – Today it introduces you to  Free Ebooks and Texts Archive

Thought of the Day - It’s really a good one today, which is what prompted me to write about this site.    “If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.”
Abraham Maslow

This Day in History Today it’s about Narcotics Anonymous

Article of the Day Do you know what a Bonobo is? You will after reading this article.

Daily Diversions Games, Jokes, Stumble Upon, etc.

Today’s Potpourri Trivia, Science, Technology, Health

There are so many additional and varied resources, there is no possible way you could ever peruse every one of them. You’ll find all types of news, even “hold your hat now”–there’s even Positive, Good News. And expect the pictures from outer space to blow you away.

Don’t miss out on this site.

When did the word poop change to poo?

When I was a small child and I had to poop, I told my mother I had to do a #2. That was really a poop, except my mother didn’t want me shouting poop in the middle of a store, so her code word for poop was #2.

Now I’ve been hearing the new-improved, shortened version of poop being used, which apparently is poo.

I don’t know about you, but I have poo-pooed an idea or a piece of advice from time to time, but I’ve never pooed on a toilet, as far as I know.

If you’ve never moved from a large city to a small town, you might find this amusing. I, myself, had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.

I relocated recently and now receive an itty-bitty weekly town newspaper. One of the regular columns is Cops Corner (a report of crimes committed during the previous week). The following is a woman’s account “word for word” of her encounter with an intruder.

Suspicious Incident. A woman advised that her house is for sale and she has been showing it to prospective buyers. An elderly man came to see the house. They shook hands as he was leaving and he kissed the top of her hand. She said he then hugged her and kissed her on the neck. The man attempted to kiss the woman on the lips, but she pushed him away and asked him to leave. The man told her he would like to make love to her. She never felt threatened but did tell him to leave several times. The man left without further contact. She is not pressing charges.

Is that a hoot, or what?! Here’s another one for your reading pleasure. Same week, same paper. A real crime spree!

Larceny – Motor Vehicle. A man informed a deputy that someone had broken and removed the passenger window of his truck. The victim showed the deputy the broken side window and said that after breaking the window, the unknown person placed it in the grass next to the vehicle. The man stated the GPS, satellite radio and his safety equipment were all still in the vehicle. The only things taken were (WAIT FOR IT!) a soda from his cooler and two AA batteries. There are no suspects.

It seemed to be quite a week for odd car break-ins. A 19-year-old woman stated that an unknown person broke into her Jeep, too. Stolen? three $1 bills and $2 in change.

Don’t you just love small town America? Meanwhile, the oil is gushing into the Gulf of Mexico like there’s no tomorrow.

Photo from Careerealism

I finally received an emailed joke that actually made me smile. I’m sharing.

My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken woman swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.

My wife asked, “Do you know her?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “She’s my old girlfriend. I understand she started drinking right after we split up those many years ago and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.”

“My God!” my wife said. “Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?”

I had a need to write about something frivolous this week. With the downturn of the stock markets, and the low roads being taken by the politicians, I’m thinking I need to raise my spirits.

So here goes. If you look up the word frivolous on the internet, here are some of the things you find.

How would you expand the powers of the vice-presidency? I’d make it so they could fly in space anytime they want to.

There were other really good answers to this question, too. Like, “I’d give the VP the power to prosecute individuals for wearing white after Labor Day. ” If you want to see more, go to Booman Tribune.

How about this? Here’s the newest luggage model from Samsonite. Stop in at Core77  to see more frivolous, whacky stuff.

Are you up for a frivolous lawsuit? There are many, but here’s a good one.

In 1991, Richard Harris sued Anheiser-Busch for $10,000 for false advertising. Harris  claimed to suffer from emotional distress in addition to mental and physical injury. Why? Because when he drank beer, he didn’t have any luck with the ladies, as promised in the TV ads. Harris also didn’t like that he got sick sometimes after he drank. The case was thrown out of court.

Whenever I feel somewhat off-balance, I tend to do something frivolous. This week was no exception. My vacuum cleaner blew up. It’s been acting strange for quite a while now, so its refusal to budge another inch came as no surprise, really. I decided its breakdown was a sign that I should do something frivolous to make myself feel better. So, I ordered an iRobot Roombah to do all future vacuuming for me.

I think I need to give my little robot a name so I can call to it while it works. Hmmm.

Before I even started reading this memoir, I had to chuckle over the Author’s Note. Matt wrote:

“I’m not going to feed you that same old baloney about how memory is imperfect…The truth is that while everything in this book happened, it didn’t always happen the way I say it did. Sometimes I changed names or descriptions of people and places. Big deal. Sometimes I altered chronology…made people look foolish when they weren’t so foolish, made people look good when they were fools…–I know you’ll love this one–said things happened in one place when they really happened somewhere else. Okay, so maybe that is a big deal…Some of this stuff is damn funny and some of it’s tragic. Just don’t take the window dressing too literally.”

I suppose Oprah would have apoplexy over that statement. It had the opposite effect on me. I wanted to read more.

You don’t expect a book written by a Jewish fellow to start off with a chapter involving Santa Claus, but this one does. The first chapter is titled Why I Don’t Believe In Santa Claus and it has nothing whatsoever to do with religion. As a matter of fact, Matt didn’t even know he was Jewish until he was in the second grade.

Abandoned as an infant by his mother, Matt was raised by his grandparents, while their daughter, his mother, chose to hobnob across Europe. If this makes the book sound like a tearjerker, pack that notion away. Although some chapters are poignant, for the most part, the book is fresh, humorous and, at times, uproarious.

His grandfather, who was a genteel, aristocratic gentleman, had the good luck to marry a woman who was a real firecracker. She jokingly referred to the Rothschild family as a crazy cult. Speaking to her husband, she made remarks like:

“…your cult’s had so much shock therapy that if they held hands, they could provide enough electricity to power New York City.”

Getting to know Matt’s grandmother through his eyes is an unforgettable trip you won’t want to miss.

Peppered throughout the memoir are other fascinating characters–Elaine, who once convinced him that since they spent so much money in FAO Schwartz they should be entitled to some free gifts, The Petty Thieves.  His short association with a reclusive old woman living in his building, who hadn’t been seen by any of her neighbors in thirty years, Greta Garbo Lives Next Door, leaves you wistful, wishing he had time to find out more about her.  And there was his third-grade teacher, Ms. Wood, who delighted in giving him D’s on his papers, which he hid from his grandparents until they were eventually found, All in the D’s. His grandmother didn’t pull any punches that day,

“Oh, Matthew, what the hell are these?”                                                            .

Although this book is written by a person who lived just steps away from the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue, you never get the impression that it’s from the perspective of a rich kid. If anything, you feel Matt didn’t even realize he was rich until he reached puberty. (That’s another amusing story to read about).

What makes this memoir beautiful is that it is honest, in spite of what Matt tells you in the Author’s Note. His writing is witty, sincere, unerringly compassionate, hilarious and totally entertaining. Pick up this book; it’s a memorable read.

[Goodnight, Mr. Newman. We loved you.]