The New Year

At my personal board meeting this year, I passed only a couple of resolutions. “Allinfavouropposedcarried!”

My first and most important plan is to arrange my business affairs such that I can spend more time away from my family.

I mainly work from home you see, and I frequently have important business calls interrupted by small children loudly announcing that “the dog is scooting her bum across the carpet right in front of the couch Dad! Oh – you’re on the phone. Sorry.”

Working from home does present challenges. I usually dial into our head office and have reception patch me through to my clients so that, based on call display information, they believe I’m actually at the office and not, in fact, sitting in my bathrobe, unshaven and scratching myself.

I sound like I’m at work until the dog barks, or I flush, or some other such announcement spoils my clever ruse.

I have even boldly made business calls while small children sit beside me, playing away on some website, only to have the mute button on their computer somehow un-mute and emit fart sounds, just as I’m discussing last quarter’s balance sheet with the CEO of a company I am courting.

“Excuse me!” I say as I launch into a spastic, thrashing-about dance to hit the mute button, shove a kid out of the office, mop up my spilled coffee, and try to make a prescient comment about cash flow.

This recovery procedure involves a certain amount of coordination, something which will come in handy for my second resolution - putting on footwear that will give me some grip in the snow when I let the dog out.

I currently just wear slippers, which do not provide claw-like traction, I beg to inform you.

Yesterday, in fact, I did a rather spectacular vertical hurtle, plummeting from my usual lofty 6 foot 3 inch height to a much lower and horizontal one, in a scant hundredth of a second. I departed from perpendicularity with such speed that I did not even have time to say to myself “Careful dude, this is slippery.” I only got as far as “Ca…”

I’m not sure if it was the sudden appearance of me laying beside her, or the loud “Oof!” sound I made upon doing so, but the dog bolted away with remarkable speed for her age, despite her overwhelming desire to eat and contaminate the fresh snow.

One second I was standing, slowly creeping down the little hill towards the gate, the next I was laid out, gasping, legs splayed, bath robe agape and over my head such that neighbours were getting a horrified eyeful of my corporate inner workings.

Given the frequency of my arm-waving lurches on our little path of late, I’m sure my spouse will emerge into the inky blackness of a winter’s night sometime, and observe her rotund husband laid out on the snow, gasping for breath, exposing himself, pointing at his slippers which have been catapulted onto the roof of the neighbour’s house.

It being well nigh impossible to get up from such a position, I’ll probably just lay back and relax, fatalistically enjoying my fading view of the stars in the chill night air, as my enormous body succumbs to hypothermia, frostbite, and little bits of gravel which have been violently embedded in the musculature of my backside.

As I contemplate this quite possible and embarrassing fate, I wonder if there are such things as Slip-On Crampons – mountaineering traction gear for the housebound slob.

God forbid I should actually break down and shovel. Or actually use the lock on my office door at home.

That would require more resolutions, which are not on the agenda.

Published!

A new humor anthology, "Laugh Your Shorts Off" has been published and is now available at Amazon.com (link here).

It contains the collected works of every winner of the Humor and Life, In Particular contests for the past decade or so.

I'm in it! My column titled Myth Kids won the contest a while ago - the column is below.

I've ordered my copy. You?

As always - thanks very much for reading.

Myth Kids

Authors Note: I don't know why, but after this piece won the Humor and Life, In Particular writing contest, I never put it back on the blog - that I can find anyway. So, in recognition of the fact it is now part of a newly published anthology of short humor titled Laugh Your Shorts Off - here it is again!

I was walking down Orchard Street the other day, thinking about all the myths my mother told me as a kid, when I met a young man named Newton, who had apple trees growing out of his head.

To describe him is a bit of a challenge. He was tall and slender, clean shaven, and his fruit was neat and recently sprayed. I couldn’t tell his age, but based on his bark lesions I’d guess early twenties.

He said he had swallowed apple seeds as a kid, and these nicely-pruned, fruit-laden trees were the result.

So it WAS true I thought! You shouldn’t swallow the seeds after all. Huh.

He told me he had cherry trees growing out of his ears at one point, and like most rebellious teens he had let his branches grow long and, well, got into some trouble, hanging around places he shouldn’t have been. Power lines mainly.

Before I could get around to asking him the obvious pruning and fertilizing questions that sprang to mind, I realized that he was a Myth Kid!!

Myth Kids are extremely rare – so rare, in fact, that they themselves are considered mythical. They are people who got warned by their mothers of all sorts of terrible things that could happen to them, and then the terrible things actually happened!

He was living proof!

As we strolled in his shade, I asked about his crossed eyes.

“Froze that way – just like Mom said they would,” he explained. “I used to sit really close to the TV all the time and I used to practice going cross-eyed in school. I’ve only got myself to blame really.”

I asked about his scars, assuming they were old hockey injuries perhaps.

“This one here is from when I was running around the house with sharp scissors. And this little one here is from not holding onto my Popsicle stick” he said.

A chill crept up my spine. I thought these were just old wives tales – nothing more.

I worried about my own kids. Had I threatened them enough with implausible accidental injury?

For that matter, had I washed behind my ears that morning, or would potatoes start growing back there? I couldn’t remember, so I feigned scratching my head as I gently probed for sprouts.

As we walked I suggested to him that someone should write about his tragic life. He was about to answer when he yelled “Watch out!” but it was too late. I had stepped on a spider.

A sudden rainstorm began, the spider having been a Daddy Long Legs. The rain sounded nice dripping through his leaves. Another myth confirmed.

I remembered some other admonitions Mom used to say.

“Ever step on a crack in the sidewalk?” I asked.

“Mom will be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Broken back. My fault.” His remorse was obvious.

“That’s terrible!” I said. “Weren’t medical staff able to do anything?”

“I had eaten an apple that day, which kept the Doctor away. I’ve never forgiven myself.”

“Ever swim right after a meal?”

“I almost drown from cramps every time. Now I don’t even shower for at least 30 minutes after each meal. Terrifying.” he said.

“What do you do for fun?”

“Not a lot. Mom says it’s all fun until someone puts an eye out. That happened to my cousin Twiggy, so I have to be careful.”

I noticed his disfigured hands and asked “Arthritis?”

“Knuckle cracking” he said.

By this time it was dark out so I said I had best be going. It had been an interesting conversation.

As we walked towards the corner he stumbled into a lamp post.

“Are you OK?” I asked, peering into the gloom.

“I guess. My night vision is no good. I didn’t eat carrots as a kid. And could you stop picking my apples please? It tickles.”

This is Mything Children Awareness Month. When a Myth Kid scratches at your door, please give generously.

Basking...

As I bask in the glow of a grateful public who are sated at last after my enormous contest win (I just threw up a little bit writing that), I can pause and reflect on what's going on around me.

We gave the kids Nintendo DSi's early for Christmas this year. We are going away (with the kids this time) and wanted them to have something to play with on the drive to the lower mainland, which, depending on conditions, could be either a 3 hour blast or 8 hour hellish nightmare. So it's good to be prepared. I have my knife and fork ready in case we turn into a modern day Donner Party.

Oh how cute - the kids are using their new Nintendo computer thingy's to re-task a Predator drone in Afghanisan!

"Don't blow away another wedding party kids!" I say helpfully.

"Oh, and are you adjusting the bank lending rate this week or will you leave it alone for the holidays kids?" I ask. They really are whizzes when it comes to computers.

Anyway, I'm off to the Cheap Crap For a Dollar store for some last minute stocking stuffers.

I also have to take the dog into the vet since she's more than her usual wobbly self, post-stroke.
She is also draining all the terlet bowls in the house with wild abandon, so maybe she's a little thirstier than usual - which I'll get checked out as well. She's drinking water in the same volumes I anticipate pounding back the Bailey's Irish Cream when we get to my sisters place. Kindred spirits I guess.

"Hey cool kids! I didn't think you could aim the Hubble telescope towards Earth! Pan left a little and maybe we can see what the neighbours are building out back there..."

Anyway, this is probably my last post for a few days. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

The Trouble with Shopping

It can be extremely difficult for a distractible man to focus on purchasing slippers for his wife at the department store, when the slipper department is next to the brassiere department.

I was looking right at the slippers but on the next rack were some bra’s (Ha! Rack. Bra’s…well, see, there I go again). They were nice. The bra’s. I mean the slippers. See the trouble here?

My thoughts while shopping went something like this:

“Well there’s a nice pair. I wonder what the material feels like. Ooh, soft. Nice. She’ll like that. And they’ve got some rubber reinforcement underneath too – that will help when she’s running around chasing the kids.”

“The tips might be a bit pointy - I know she likes a more rounded look - but she can always exchange, I guess. Easy to slip on and off quickly it would appear – that’s good.”

“I’m just not sure of the size. These look about right but I’m just not sure any more. She’s getting back into running and that can affect things as well. I’d hate to see her hanging out the sides. Plus if they don’t fit properly they can cause some back strain.”

I turned to the woman next to me for assistance.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but you look like you’re about the size of my wife – can I compare yours to my wife’s and see if they fit?”

It was at that point I realized I was holding a brassiere and not a pair of slippers. My mind had wandered as usual, and the bra I was holding was for a serious pair of, well, 'gazongas' is the word that springs to mind. I honestly do not remember picking that one up.

My face was still red from the slap, and here I was in the local jail, awaiting charges of Attempted Perversion Upon a Nun.

“I honestly didn’t realize I had wandered over to the other rack, your Honour. Ha-ha – rack, yeah. I laughed too, your Honour.”

“No sir, I don’t recall asking her to "rub them together to see if they generate static electricity". I was probably thinking of the slippers, sir.”

“Yes, sir, it is a first offense and a fine would be most appropriate in this circumstance, and I thank you for no criminal record, sir.”

“Well, Your Honour, I think I’d rather spend some time in jail, but if you think releasing me into my wife’s custody will be best for me then I guess I’ll obey your wishes, although if I had retained a lawyer I’m sure he would be saying that is cruel and unusual punishment right about now.”

“Yes sir, I realize my ear will bend back eventually. Thank you, sir, and I hope you find the tennis balls for your wife without too much trouble. You might want to be careful though, sir, the sporting goods are right next to the swimsuit racks.”

“Yes, us guys have to stick together – I agree. You’re welcome, Your Honour. Merry Christmas to you too, sir.”

The Digestive System as Taught by a Plumber

The shortage of qualified surgeons in this country has led to drastic measures being taken.

Here is a transcript of a lecture given recently to new surgical interns by Master Plumber Fred Johnson of Johnson’s Plumbing and Heating.

“Let’s go over the design plans briefly before we begin our operation, fellas.”

“We’ll proceed from the top, here at this access panel, and then move way down to the waste stack, here.”

“Behind the access panel opening you’ll usually find several enamel or porcelain fixtures in a curved array, with multiple small valves supplying fluid to the fixtures and the upper end of the system.

“Solids and liquids introduced to the system are pushed into the drain by this auger unit, down a three degree slope, to a 90 degree ell-coupling here. Be careful working around this elbow area since touching the inside of the pipe will cause the system to immediately back up.”

“Now, below this fitting there are two 3/4 inch drain lines, which converge here in this flow control valve. This valve is responsible for separation of gas, liquid and solid mixtures, as well as functioning as a PA system for the entire structure.”

“We’ll only concern ourselves with the fluid and semi-fluid lines at this point people. We’ll let the gas fitters work on the other line later.”

“Past the control valve we come to a central reservoir which holds all the in-feed from the drain line above. This tank has control valves – one at each end - and after suitable mixing has occurred, the contents of the tank are slowly drained through the lower valve into a 1 inch sewer line here.”

“This sewer stack is approximately 28 feet long, made of flexible tubing, and winds around the central interior of the structure, through several 90 degree bends, elbows, and 45 degree offsets. As it proceeds, some of the material inside the structure is siphoned off using various branch lines.”

“Just so you’re aware, another system is responsible for filtering liquids in this structure. The system has two replaceable strainers here at the back. Waste liquid drains from these filters into a P-trap holding tank here and hence to one of two different exit valves, depending on the structure. This is what we male plumbers call the fire sprinkler system. That’s a bit of anatomy humour there.”

“Other tanks contribute fluids and chemicals to the mixture as it moves down the stack, but generally the material continues without interruption.”

“The processed material then enters this 2 inch stack, which is in essence another, larger holding tank. This tank regularly empties, usually into a municipal waste system, through this flow control valve, here. Yes, the exterior valve can look like a politician, Joe – good one!”

“This plumbing system operates with high efficiency, but can occasionally slow to a crawl, or speed up beyond system capacity. The reasons for slowing down can be anything from too much cheese entering the system to a lack of water irrigation, which can also lead up to a complete blockage and pipeline shut down.”

“The system can also work at extremely high speed, particularly after a ‘hot wings and beer night’ at the local pub, or if the system is contaminated by a previously untested curry.”

“When working on these pipes, care must be taken with open flames or spark-producing tools since the system can vapour-lock, and flammable gases are known to accumulate on a regular basis. Venting is as important here as in any plumbing system, so remember that as you solder or weld anything.”

“So that’s it folks! Any questions before we begin our operation on this patient? No? Good.”

“Someone get my work gloves and I can get started with the pipe cutters. We need a work light in here! Who’s got the snake?”

“We have to hurry people – the electricians next door need help with their brain surgery.”