Tag Archives: humor

Happy Holidays, Guys.

I’m not sure why so many turn-of-the-century Christmas cards feature pig-powered elf transportation, but you’d be surprised.  It must be a Norwegian thing — in the same manner as their contemporaneous Americans had a predilection for frogs.  (Hey, it could be weirder, right?  Norway’s cards could features cadres of confused elves running a barber shop for pigs.)

Whatever.  Drive safe and be merry.  If you’re traveling far to see friends or family, remember to gas up your pigs.

 

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Jenny Nystrøm, circa 1895.

Hop on Pop.

You know you live in the South when your neighbor keeps going on about Moon Pies.

Dude likes his Moon Pies.

I haven’t heard “pop” substituted for “soda” yet, though.

 

 

(Drama stinks.)

I came a bit too close for comfort just now with the skunk who lives around my street, Leonardo da Stinki.  I can usually saunter right by animals without them even noticing me, which I suppose is sort of a weird trait, or maybe a really boring X-Men mutant power.  Leonardo and I both sort of stumbled upon one another, halted abruptly, and made some awkward eye contact.  (It’s like running into your ex at Costco.) 

He thankfully ambled off, after I oafishly backpedaled.  (I can do oafish really well and with precisely zero effort; that’s another one of my superpowers.)  I’d like to think we had a tacit exchange: 

“I don’t want any drama tonight, do you?” 

“Nah.”

So there was no odoriferous outcome, and I’m grateful for that.  Leonardo has gotten quite big now that he is an adult, and I’m sure his own special abilities have correspondingly magnified.  (Why is there no skunk-themed member of The X-Men, anyway?  That feels like a creative oversight.)

I really want to snap a picture of him, because my aspirations in life make sense only to me, and he was crossing a well lit yard during his exit.  But this is The South, and I’m not sure how the average Roanoker might react if they discovered a weird, New York liberal taking pictures their property at night.  I have a feeling that’s a story that doesn’t end well.

 

 

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By Twitter, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77807699

LEAF BRITNEY ALONE.

Dudes, this might be the biggest leaf I’ve ever seen.  That is indeed my foot next to it.  And I don’t have small feet; I wear a size 11 and 1/2.  (Now, now … this is a family blog, people.)

I found these tarp-sized leaves in the exact same place where I encountered that giant spider — the one the size of a housecat.  This makes me think there’s some sort of “Food of the Gods” -type sci-fi shenanigans going on in the vicinity.

Will investigate and report back.

 

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The melon-choly days are come.

Well, hot damn.  Not all healthy food is stultifyingly gross to eat.  I can’t remember the last time I ate watermelon — maybe in college?  I’m pretty sure that watermelon-flavored Jolly Ranchers don’t count.

But this is a miracle food.  I didn’t have to add any salt or sugar ore even fry it in order for it to taste delicious.  Why didn’t people advise me to eat this to start with?

Tomorrow — tofu.  Or maybe not.  I bought a tray of that #$%*, but it’s been sitting in my fridge for a while now, because I’m too afraid to open it.  I swear to you … the loose, cool weight of it in that little plastic dish feels precisely how I would expect a slice of prepackaged cadaver to feel in my hands.  I might leave it out for the turkey vultures.  (Note to New Yorkers — the South indeed has these truly enormous birds called “turkey vultures” or “turkey buzzards.”  You kinda have to see it to believe it.)  I’ll update you guys.

 

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I try weird $+&# so that you don’t have to.

This is “veggie bacon.”  Its ingredients are soy and disappointment.

The package portrayed it as “delicious,” which is precisely the kind of dangerous, calculated lie I’d expect from a jailed serial killer or Craigslist personal ads or the White House Press Secretary.

Alright, maybe I’m being too harsh.  This isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.  It tastes better than it smells, so there’s that.  (When I was frying it and noting its failure to sizzle, I recoiled from what I can only describe as a vague, radioactive-carrot odor.)

It just doesn’t taste like bacon.  It maybe tastes like processed pork rinds.  Seriously.  They ought to call it “veggie pork rinds.”

 

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Southern hospitality, I guess.

Chilling in the Star City with a café mocha — courtesy of a super-cool writer pal. Thinking up some future stories.  (Thank you, m’Dear.)  No, I cannot close a Starbucks lid correctly — it’s why I’m always spilling coffee on myself.

Everyone is so extraordinarily nice in this town.  People actually slow their cars to a stop to allow you to cross the street — even when they have the right of way!  They even make eye contact, and smile and nod when they do it!  Such a thing would be virtually unheard of in New York, which is basically Thunderdome when compared with Roanoke.

How can such vast numbers of people in this city be so polite?  This city might be the eighth wonder of the world.

I need to learn to be a little more pleasant and sociable to match the spirit of humanity here.  I can think of it as getting into “Roanoke-mode.”

 

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The greatest town in all of North America …

… nay, the world.

Thank you, good people of Tennessee, for naming your home for me.  I am humbled, and I will do everything I can to live up to this honor.

Hey … those streets are cleaner than my kitchen right now, and they have 100% more blackberries.

 

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Never presume.

Never presume.

When you presume, you make a pres out of u and me.

 

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KILL IT WITH FIRE.

I swear this spider was as long as my thumb.   I could have put my shoe or maybe a quarter next to it for scale, but I don’t want to stick any part of my body near this thing, and I don’t want to subsidize its hellish agenda.  (I did kinda zoom out so that you can compare it to the size of the curb.)

What does it eat?!  Birds?!  Why does it appear to have racing stripes?!

To quote the immortal Ellen Ripley, I say we take off and nuke the site from orbit.  It’s the only way to be sure.

Update: someone is trying to persuade me that this is a “garden spider,” and that they are quite harmless.  I’m not sure I buy that.

 

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