Couple of topics + humor

A rather stupid thing happened this morning. I was sitting on the bed, getting dressed when I leaned over for a piece of Kleenex, blew my nose, and ... slid off the bed. No, that is not funny! My handicap does not allow me to pick myself up, so I hit my emergency call button, and wait for the fire department to come pick me up. “Are you hurt?” they asked when they showed up. “Only my pride,” I said.

Topic change: Headline in this morning’s paper -- BUTTERFLY - Millions on annual trek north. The picture in my mind is all these butterflies hiking up the freeway with little knapsacks slung over their backs. Trek?

The ceiling in the picture below is a painting.

Traffic stops

A few days ago I posted the following joke on Alison's blog. Don't go 'way; there's a reason for this:

An Officer stops a driver for running a red light. The guy is a real jerk and comes running back to the officer demanding to know why he is being harassed by the Gestapo! So the officer calmly tells him of the red light violation. The “Motorist” instantly goes on a tirade, questioning the officer’s ancestry, sexual orientation, etc., in rather explicit terms.

The tirade goes on without the officer saying anything.
When he gets done with writing the ticket he puts an “AH” in the lower right corner of the narrative portion of the ticket. He then hands it to the “Violator” for his signature. The guy signs the ticket angrily, and when presented with his copy points to the “AH” and demands to know what it stands for.

The Officer says, “That’s so when we go to court, I’ll remember that you’re an Asshole!”

Two months later they’re in court. The “Violator” has such a bad driving record he is about to lose his license and has hired a lawyer to represent him. On the stand the officer testifies to seeing the man run the red light. Under cross examination the defense attorney asks; “Officer is this a reasonable facsimile of the ticket you issued my client?”

Officer responds, “Yes sir, that is the defendants copy, his signature and mine, same number at the top.

Lawyer: “Officer, is there any particular marking or notation on this ticket you don’t normally make?”

Officer: “Yes sir, in the lower right corner of the narrative there is an “AH,” underlined.”

Lawyer: “What does the “AH” stand for, officer?”

Officer: “Aggressive and Hostile Sir.”

Lawyer: “Aggressive and Hostile?”

Officer: “Yes Sir?

Lawyer: “Officer, Are you sure it doesn’t stand for Asshole?”

Officer: “Well Sir, You know your client better than I do!”

Subsequently, I received the following email from Alison:

Now, that's funny!!!

Also because, right after we moved here, when I had no idea how to find my way around, I was on El Camino in Menlo Park and two cars in front of me did U-turns. So I did too, not seeing any sign not to and that was the direction I wanted to be going in.

All three of us got pulled over.

I asked the cop where the sign was, explaining I'd just moved here. I apologized; I didn't want to make that mistake again. Oh! Oh okay, we didn't have the signs over there in New Hampshire, I didn't think to look there, thank you!

Not wanting my insurance to go up, I went to traffic court. I put on a nice dress, I looked as pregnant as I could that early on (it was a bit of a stretch, although I *was* pregnant), and I waited and waited and waited: because the case in front of me was the most obnoxious person you could have imagined. He had law books with him, he was throwing out accusations about the cops and citing clauses in the Constitution I'm not sure existed, and this case and that, and he rambled on and on for close to an hour. Far as I could make out, none of it made sense and the guy was just nuts.

The funny thing about it was how many cops were in that room, eyes locked on him, arms folded tightly, faces grim. The judge finally had had enough--it was just a stupid traffic ticket--and got rid of his (the judge's) problem by telling him he was found not guilty, dismissed.

And those cops, angry, got up en masse and left right behind him, keeping an eye on him, and I wondered what HIS record must be like!

So. Sweet little me trying to look like a nice person. The judge calls out my name. I stand up; he asks if the cop who wrote my citation is there. Nope? Alright. And he gives me the biggest grin and dismisses me with a wave.

I always wondered about that guy, but he seems to have gotten me off a ticket.

And that reminded me of a time many years ago when I deserved a ticket, but didn't get one. I was going to San Francisco City College, and I had an 8 a.m. class. Following that I hopped in my car, and headed downtown to work. The quickest route was to go up the hill toward Twin Peaks, and then around and down the hill to downtown. There was a traffic light at the intersection where I turned to head down, and this day there were about 6 cars waiting for the light to change. I was one of the first, and when the light turned green, I took off and headed down the curvy road. About two thirds of the way down, a motorcycle cop pulled me over. Now see if you can picture the timing of the following. I pulled over and stopped. The cop pulled in behind me, and walked forward to the driver side window. "Let me see your license," he said. So I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet to get to my license. Then the rest of the cars that had been at the light with me started to drive by. That's to give you an idea how fast I'd been going.

Then Providence intervened. One of the passing cars clipped the cop's motorcycle. He looked back with a look of disgust, turned to me, and said "Get outta here." Yes, Sir.

In response to my posting yesterday about Pepper, and the cartoon about the cat, Joansie had this to say:

Kitty looks so comfortable but I'd keep an eye on my bird. :>)

Well, here's a possible safety feature:

On the other hand ...

Pepper

This is Pepper, who is a cocketiel. When we first bought Pep, we thought the bird was a male. The breeder thought so, too. SEVEN YEARS LATER Amalie hollered to me one morning, "Pepper's a female!" Huh? What are you talking about? "She laid an egg!"

At first I could not believe this. I suggested that perhaps Pep was smuggling some female bird into HIS cage at night, and it was HER egg. But nobody was buying that.

I have a 3-wheel walker that I use at home, and I have a carry bag with a long strap that I can carry over my shoulder when I go out. At home, I sling it over the handles of the walker. Pepper likes to ride on my walker, and in this photo she is standing on the blue strap of the bag. She likes to ride so much that the moment I touch the walker, there she is clamoring to get on. Now she is perfectly capable of climbing on all by herself, (I've watched her do it) but she would much rather I pick her up. Okay, okay, I need the exercise.

While Chipper is a very quiet bird, Pepper is the resident clown. Her wings are clipped, but she runs up and down the ladder that goes from the floor to the counter, or climbs up my leg when she wants her head rubbed. It's not that I'm allowed to rub her head; she demands it. It's hard to describe her antics, but another time I'll give it a try.

For today's humor I have something I can't post on Alison's blog:

Chipper

Finally! Got a photo to post! This is Chipper. When we first bought him, we thought he was a Budgie. Apparently the pet store also thought so, because they charged us the Budgie price. But our vet said no, he is a Bourke's Parrot. They are the size of a Budgie, and they are that color. They come from Central Australia. In this photo, he is sitting on the back of a dining room chair. If you look closely at the feathering at the base of his neck, you will see they look a bit mottled, which is not Budgie feathering. Also the tip of his tail is more squared off, while that of a Budgie comes almost to a point.

Chipper is not tame, though he gives me almost no trouble at all. Sometimes he wants to get into Pepper's cage, but more about that another time. Initially we tried to finger train him, but he would have none of it. So he is just let out of his cage in the morning so cleaning, food and water can be done, and he flies around the dining room - living room - kitchen circle two or three times, and then he ends up on the end table (appropriately enough). After a while he will fly back up to his cage and generally spend the rest of the day there.

Two weeks ago there was a workman in the house, and when he moved from the kitchen into the hall, Chip flew around the opposite direction, almost colliding with the man. Chip veered away, and ran head on into the wall. I took him to the vet, who examined him, noted that the bird's feet were curled when Chip was on the ground. The vet said to keep him caged for a couple of weeks. He also said to see if the bird was eating properly, and so far that is the case. But although one foot appears to be flat on the ground when he is on the floor of his cage, the other remains curled. I have a call into the vet. I'll keep you posted.

At my request, Rena emailed me on how she was able to post her comment. Perhaps this will help some of you: "Didn't do anything special - just clicked on leave comment or whatever it says and left my comment - thought maybe you had whatever was wrong fixed. Will go there again and see if it works. It does, it just takes a little bit to get finished. One clicks on comments 2 now, then writes there comment, at the bottom, click on select profile - where one has to sign in according to the type of passwork one has - google, typepad etc. One also has to write the silly computered generated work to keep zombies from attaching to it."

Ok, now for a bit of humor. Sometimes what happens in real life is funnier than something made up. The following is part of a front page article in this morning's paper entitled PUBERTY:

Her paper white teeth disappeared behind braces that stretched from ear to ear. At 11 she was accustomed to wearing the first thing that tumbled out of her closet in the morning; at 13 she now presides over a vast wardrobe of color coordinated wardrobe of adorablewear. Most of these ensembles she prefers to keep where she can see them, on the floor of her bedroom.

Tomorrow: Pepper

Future plans

Well, we are now up to three commenters! Slow, but sure.

As near as I can tell, and three people have done it, in order to post a comment, one goes to the bottom of the current post and finds the box in which to write. Then below that box one clicks on "Select Profile", hopefully one you have. Otherwise, one can create a Google account (no charge). Then click to post the comment. Unfortunately, I cannot verify that because I've had no luck whatever. Ah, well.

But on to the future. I want to introduce you to my 'family' as soon as I can import photos. Then I have some visual humor to share. I want to talk about books and authors I particularly enjoy, and I would be delighted to hear from you about books and authors. And at some point I will likely talk about some of the adventures my late wife and I had. We did most all of our traveling following our respective illnesses in 1986, and we had quite a time. Of course there will be humor. I believe it was humor that had some of you urging me to start my own blog.

So... On to something funny:

(This is one of my favorite one-liners) DJ (age 4) stepped onto the bathroom scale and asked: 'How much do I cost?'

While driving in Pennsylvania , a family caught up to an Amish carriage. The owner of the carriage obviously had a sense of humor, because attached to the back of the carriage was a hand printed sign... "Energy efficient vehicle: Runs on oats and grass.

Caution: Do not step in exhaust.''

Making a little progress

I'm still not sure how one posts a response, but one reader managed it. So we know it can be done. On the positive side, my profile is more complete, along with a photograph. That's the best recent one I could find, and that one is a few years old. Usually I look like I died last week.

Additionally, I now have the tool bar at the top so I can choose fonts, size, positioning, spell check, or add an image or video. I expect to use these in times to come. Well, I was going to upload a photo, but it didn't happen. Looks like I've more of a learning curve to conquer.

So I'm stuck for the moment, and move on to a bit of humor:Women over 50 don't have babies because they would put them down and forget where they left them.

A friend of mine confused her Valium with her birth control pills... she has 14 kids but doesn't really care.

My mind not only wanders, it sometimes leaves completely.

The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight because by then, your body and your fat are really good friends.

Just when I was getting used to yesterday, along came today.

Just the beginning

Several people suggested I start my own blog, so with a bit of help from Alison, a bit of ingenuity on my part, and the grace of Google, here I am. I'd been posting comments and jokes on another blog, and I plan to continue at that site, so there may be some repetition of humor. However, I do plan to have other things to say.

For starters, who am I? My name is Don Meyer, and I live in Northern California. I am a handicapped widower, and because of my handicap, I cannot trim my own nails. So for several years now I have been going to a Vietnamese beauty salon for this service, and a little Vietnamese gal named Jenny has been doing my nails for, oh, perhaps a year or more. She is very soft spoken, but quite friendly. This morning she asked me something about where I lived -- on the first floor or the second. I replied that I lived in a mobile home, and there was only one level. She asked how long I'd lived there, and I said "38 years". Then I added that we (my wife and I) had purchased the coach when I was 40 years
old. I could see the wheels turning as she did the computation, and then she looked at me with astonishment and said, "You're over 70! You don't look it!" Well, thank you. You can make your own calculation.

The Google instructions tell me that I can post photographs and videos, so when I figure that out, I shall do so. And since I intend to include humor, here's a little one for starters:

Tech support: What's on your monitor now, ma'am?
Customer: A teddy bear my boyfriend bought for me in the supermarket.