humor
"Humor is what binds humans together and makes difficult times just a little less painful; Sometimes you can't help but laugh. "
Once Upon a Spatula
All I needed was a spatula. Really. But you know what happens when you go into a thrift store. It's so easy to get sidetracked browsing all those shelves. You can end up pushing through hundreds of hangers on rods looking for something to wear, then scanning even more shelves littered with the cemeteries of clear glass bud vases left over from every last flower shop in town. Before you know it, you've been in the store for over an hour, but hopefully, you'll leave with at least one decent find. My sister Emily told me I could find a spatula at the thrift store on Mesa Vista Avenue. She also told me not to start up any conversations with the old man that owned the place, or I'd never escape. Little did she know.
By Karen Vargas5 years ago in Humans
Lost and Found
Have love and life passed me by? What am I? 38 – can’t be! What have I got to show for my life? One thing is - I’ve sold 8 million books. All romance. I reach for my little black moleskine book where I plan my bestselling series on its 240 lined pages.
By SARAH STEWART5 years ago in Humans
You little punk!. Top Story - February 2021.
“Uggh!” My head is pounding and all I can see is blinding light through my crusty eye lids as I lay like dirty laundry on the couch. Why did I drink so much last night? Oh, now I remember. It’s because I lost my job at the book binding factory. And my girlfriend of two years left me when she discovered we only had our love of sex in common during quarantine. It’s too bad because she was dynamite in the sack. And worthy of going on this bender to honor the loss of her. Even though it doesn’t feel like it at the moment.
By Yona Vaughan 5 years ago in Humans
Bathroom Fallout
Josh and I were together for about a month when he told me that he needed to undergo surgery. A routine procedure that would require rest and pain medication for about 2 weeks. He was less than excited about the prospect of being sedentary, and far less thrilled with the idea of his new girlfriend assuming the role of caretaker. Regardless of his preferences, the surgery went as planned and I did what I could to be helpful.
By Abigail Freeman 5 years ago in Humans
Hot Stank Cheese
Lactose intolerance. For some it is a mild inconvenience, for others, it is a tragedy. Josh’s intolerance falls somewhere in the middle of the spectrum which means the occasional dairy treat. So, when he suggested that I pick up some cheese to pair with a newly discovered summer sausage, I happily complied. Now, I did not want to waste this limited opportunity on boring cheddar or plain swiss – oh, contraire! I went with an aged asiago and smoked havarti. Believe me, I was quite proud of myself. However, when I revealed my purchases, Josh was less than impressed. When I opened the packages, he responded as if he had been accosted – and from his perspective, I suppose he had. Asiago does not have the most pleasant scent, especially if you are not accustomed to the subtleties of cheese culture. It is described on the interweb as having a fresh, milky, slightly floral smell – really, it smells like the socks of someone who just ran a marathon in August. Several days had passed since initially opening the cheeses. That detail is only relevant because the aroma of asiago does not dull with time.
By Abigail Freeman 5 years ago in Humans
You Snooze You lose- Or maybe you win
You Snooze -You Lose or maybe You Win. There he goes again. The big boss man out to a “business lunch”. Yeah, right buddy! you have one every day so you can expense your steak lunches and booze up, all on the company dollar. You are a pro at what you do, I will give you that. Client schmoozing is right up your alley, with that charismatic look of yours and that slick tongue. But you would be nothing without me. ME! The one that sits here and does the early mornings and the late nights. All the extra reports and research I do which is assigned to you. All with a dim glimmer of hope that you will give me the pay rise or the bonus I rightfully deserve. But that will not happen. You need me to stay here as your lackey. Argh... just Promote me you big jerk!! You are the face and I am the brains, the grunt work, the real deal. I just don’t look like you and cannot talk like you. So, I’m left back here being the whole reason we are successful without any accolades or reward. You go off in your Porsche and I go home on the train. You go home to a mansion complete with a wife and children who love you. I go home to my studio apartment that sits above a Mexican restaurant that has tequila drunk spewers at the doorstep inevitably every Friday night... yeah thanks $5 Fajitas Friday’s!
By Julia Jools5 years ago in Humans
Transition
We played baseball every waking daylight hour all year long with an occasional drift into football in the fall. I hated meal time because I had to “come in” to eat where I gobbled my food as fast as I could to hasten my return to the ball field off Rampart Street. From ages 7 to 12, baseball was my life.
By Armond Blackwater5 years ago in Humans
Res Life
Our first residence was a crappy little pale blue trailer on the Red Cliff Reservation near Bayfield on the banks of Gitche Gumee. I immediately made friends with other Indian kids my age. They were really cool people, human beings as they referred to themselves. We played on the shores of the big water, occasionally dipping ourselves to cool off in the 38 degree lake. When I left Louisiana the temperature was 95 every day with 90% humidity. The Mississippi River hovered around 88 degrees. In Red Cliff if the temperature reached 80 everybody started complaining about the excessive heat. To me it felt great and relatively cool. To them it was torturously hot, hence the need to immerse in the frigid lake.
By Armond Blackwater5 years ago in Humans
The Word
The phone rang. Inori answered, “Hello?” “Hey kid,” a mysterious voice spoke, “It’s time.” Inori hung up. He gulped, and opened the little black book on the desk. There was a name: Ben King. Beside the name was a number in red: $20,000. Of course, there was also the word.
By Casper Tales5 years ago in Humans
New School
My new school was called Central Junior High. It was located at Belknap Street and Cumming Avenue. It would be a few months before I got the joke about the name of the avenue. Even though I’d played strip clubs in Fat City, I was still terribly naïve. I still thought that head was a body part that sat on the shoulders. And that dick was a nickname for Richard.
By Armond Blackwater5 years ago in Humans
The Unburied
The other day a guy named Dave stopped by our place in Kimberly, Idaho with a real fancy metal detector. He said he had noticed that our place was probably at least a hundred years old and had a good chunk of property with it, so he wondered if I would mind him looking around. I said it was okay with me, but I wanted to accompany him on his search and we should split anything that might be of value. He agreed, so off we went into the pasture.
By Dan Tompsett5 years ago in Humans
