Chuckle #464 | August 31st, 2011
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Let’s face it, husbands and wives often disagree about stuff like which chick flick to watch and whether or not to have another kid. So it is TOTALLY natural for spouses to argue a bit about proper storm preparation, especially when contemplating 100 mph winds and an 8 foot tidal surge.
Being mostly rational, my husband and I quickly resolved a couple of minor spats as we got ready for hurricane Irene, but I wonder how amicably we would have behaved if we were facing something really extreme, like Noah’s Flood.
Do you think Noah and his wife (we’ll call her Buffy) were in total agreement about how to build the ark, which daughters-in-law to take along, and how much beef jerky to pack? Or is it much more likely that they had some knock-down-drag-out epic arguments?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Buffy (grumbling): “That doesn’t even look like a boat! Who gave you these plans? That thing will sink the minute the waters rise, if they rise at all…”
Noah (storming out of tent): “Enough woman! God has spoken and even though the details were a little fuzzy, this is what I came up with. If you don’t like my ‘ark’ interpretation you can join the infidels down in the valley!”
Buffy: “At least they’ve been having fun for the past 120 years! I still don’t understand why my parents can’t come along. They’ve always wanted to go on a cruise and you know this is going to be their last chance.”
Noah: “Have you listened to ANYTHING I’ve said? We need people who can procreate. And BTW, crazy Uncle Herod can’t come either. That guy is totally nuts. I don’t want his seed messing up our perfectly righteous, closely related eight person gene pool.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I’d like to think that the ark floated only because Buffy put her foot down and insisted that Noah use both pitch AND nails when he put it together. Of course we’ll never know for sure since history is written by guys and women don’t get credit for anything. Most of us don’t even get named unless we're hot prostitutes or the mother of God.
At least Irene was no biblical, world ending flood. My husband and my husband’s wife (that would be me trying to make a point) managed to agree on pretty much everything, EXCEPT on where to put the cars. We knew that branches would fall like manna; where they would land was up for debate. I wanted to put the cars on the front lawn since that area is mostly free from trees and therefore safest.
My husband reacted like a madman. Seriously, he did.
“Those cars will go on my lawn over my dead body! I will not sacrifice my lawn for anything! I will not have a single tire track mar my perfect lawn. Forswear it, woman!”
Okay then. In the interest of preserving my husband’s sanity (and my marriage) I quickly forswore the lawn idea. “How about this,” I suggested instead, “we’ll pull the cars way to one side of the driveway, next to but not on the lawn, and really close to the house?”
He disagreed. “They should be closer to the road. But if I’m wrong,” he added, cleverly thinking ahead, “you can’t say ‘I told you so’.”
And just because the storm was about to hit, I agreed to both his plan and his insane/unfair terms.
So here’s how the story ends. A big branch fell on his car and dented the roof. I didn’t say I told you so. I nearly burst, but a deal’s a deal.
I wrote it on my forehead with a sharpie instead.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
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Copyright 2008-2011, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, all rights reserved
My Airplane Seatmate Runneth Over
Chuckle #463 | August 17th, 2011
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Human compassion has its limits. And that limit is never more quickly reached than in an airplane when one passenger encroaches on another’s space. Humans are territorial. Neighbors put up fences to mark their territory, dogs urinate, and airplanes have armrests. The armrest distinguishes one passenger’s “space” from another’s. It creates order from chaos; it keeps YOU from peeing on MY seat.
But what happens when the armrest ‘can’t’ go down? I’ll tell you what happens. Civilization begins to crumble. Eyes roll and nasty things are said.
Yes, it is awkward to have to sit on another person during a 10 hour transcontinental flight because one can’t afford business class. On the other hand, it is equally awkward and uncomfortable to be sat upon. What’s an airline to do?
Most do very little. The ‘passenger size’ issue is a legal quagmire and airlines keep their rules vague and inconsistently enforced on purpose. From a legal perspective, it is much better for the airline to let their passengers duke it out amongst themselves.
So what ends up happening is this… Let’s say one person is slim and really only needs 14 inches of their 17 inch seat. Let’s say another person is large and needs the entire 17 inch seat, plus 8 inches of the adjoining seat. If the flight is full, the slim person will usually forgo making a scene and leave the armrest up. Then, even though these two lovebirds have only just met, they’ll spend the rest of the flight pressed intimately up against each other in flagrante delicto.
I have to wonder, should one of them find themselves “knocked up” at the end of the flight, would Jet Blue pay child support? Somehow I don’t think so.
The sit “er”, feels badly about sitting on someone for 10 hours (but not badly enough to pay for an extra seat.) The sit “ee” is uncomfortable, drenched in shared sweat, and royally pissed about getting a 9 inch seat when they paid for the full 17.
Who’s to blame?
Canada recently enacted a law saying that airlines must provide two seats (at no additional cost) to individuals “functionally disabled by obesity”, without defining exactly what that means. Airlines in America are totally spooked, are re-writing their “Contract of Carriage”, and are telling flight attendants to “zip it” regarding of ‘seatmates of size’.
I'd like to point out that flying is no longer fun.
Why has no airline (other than Maersk) come up with a creative solution to the ever expanding human waistline? Why are seats still ‘one width fits all’ even though the latest studies show that a full third of American butts require more? I would have expected Virgin, Southwest or Jet Blue to offer an extra wide seat option by now, like they do extra leg room. But American ingenuity seems to have been left at the gate. (Along with airline profitability, perhaps?)
I don’t think people should have to buy two seats when all they need is an extra 7 or 8 inches, unless of course that seat is mine. Airlines could supersize a couple rows in coach and charge a reasonable-ish price for those upgraded seats. I’d be more than willing to pay a $10 surcharge if it guaranteed me a comfortable flight, with the armrest down and no unwanted pregnancy to deal with upon my return from the BVIs.
The first airline to come up with a solution that satisfies both those who need a little extra space and those who are tired of giving up what little space they have will make a bloody fortune. Hint, the current system of robbing Peter to pay Paul, or humiliating Paul in hopes that he spontaneously drops 100lbs before the flight takes off is NOT working.
The sad fact is that Americans are not getting any thinner. If airlines think that they can compel Americans to conform to the available seat size, they’ve already been proven wrong. These Americans are, ironically, stronger willed than that. I don’t like this any more than Michelle Obama, but serving/caving to the needs of the marketplace has got to be better for the bottom line than completely ignoring those needs and sticking your head in the sand. Or am I missing something here?
This is an opportunity for airlines to differentiate themselves. This could be the game changer that this highly competitive (mostly failing) industry so desperately needs.
Consider this a challenge. We, your beleaguered customers, sit “ers” and sit “ees” alike, respectfully throw down the gauntlet. We’d throw down the armrest as well, but as you know, we all too often can’t.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright, 200-2011, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, all rights reserved
scroll down to leave a comment
Human compassion has its limits. And that limit is never more quickly reached than in an airplane when one passenger encroaches on another’s space. Humans are territorial. Neighbors put up fences to mark their territory, dogs urinate, and airplanes have armrests. The armrest distinguishes one passenger’s “space” from another’s. It creates order from chaos; it keeps YOU from peeing on MY seat.
But what happens when the armrest ‘can’t’ go down? I’ll tell you what happens. Civilization begins to crumble. Eyes roll and nasty things are said.
Yes, it is awkward to have to sit on another person during a 10 hour transcontinental flight because one can’t afford business class. On the other hand, it is equally awkward and uncomfortable to be sat upon. What’s an airline to do?
Most do very little. The ‘passenger size’ issue is a legal quagmire and airlines keep their rules vague and inconsistently enforced on purpose. From a legal perspective, it is much better for the airline to let their passengers duke it out amongst themselves.
So what ends up happening is this… Let’s say one person is slim and really only needs 14 inches of their 17 inch seat. Let’s say another person is large and needs the entire 17 inch seat, plus 8 inches of the adjoining seat. If the flight is full, the slim person will usually forgo making a scene and leave the armrest up. Then, even though these two lovebirds have only just met, they’ll spend the rest of the flight pressed intimately up against each other in flagrante delicto.
I have to wonder, should one of them find themselves “knocked up” at the end of the flight, would Jet Blue pay child support? Somehow I don’t think so.
The sit “er”, feels badly about sitting on someone for 10 hours (but not badly enough to pay for an extra seat.) The sit “ee” is uncomfortable, drenched in shared sweat, and royally pissed about getting a 9 inch seat when they paid for the full 17.
Who’s to blame?
Canada recently enacted a law saying that airlines must provide two seats (at no additional cost) to individuals “functionally disabled by obesity”, without defining exactly what that means. Airlines in America are totally spooked, are re-writing their “Contract of Carriage”, and are telling flight attendants to “zip it” regarding of ‘seatmates of size’.
I'd like to point out that flying is no longer fun.
Why has no airline (other than Maersk) come up with a creative solution to the ever expanding human waistline? Why are seats still ‘one width fits all’ even though the latest studies show that a full third of American butts require more? I would have expected Virgin, Southwest or Jet Blue to offer an extra wide seat option by now, like they do extra leg room. But American ingenuity seems to have been left at the gate. (Along with airline profitability, perhaps?)
I don’t think people should have to buy two seats when all they need is an extra 7 or 8 inches, unless of course that seat is mine. Airlines could supersize a couple rows in coach and charge a reasonable-ish price for those upgraded seats. I’d be more than willing to pay a $10 surcharge if it guaranteed me a comfortable flight, with the armrest down and no unwanted pregnancy to deal with upon my return from the BVIs.
The first airline to come up with a solution that satisfies both those who need a little extra space and those who are tired of giving up what little space they have will make a bloody fortune. Hint, the current system of robbing Peter to pay Paul, or humiliating Paul in hopes that he spontaneously drops 100lbs before the flight takes off is NOT working.
The sad fact is that Americans are not getting any thinner. If airlines think that they can compel Americans to conform to the available seat size, they’ve already been proven wrong. These Americans are, ironically, stronger willed than that. I don’t like this any more than Michelle Obama, but serving/caving to the needs of the marketplace has got to be better for the bottom line than completely ignoring those needs and sticking your head in the sand. Or am I missing something here?
This is an opportunity for airlines to differentiate themselves. This could be the game changer that this highly competitive (mostly failing) industry so desperately needs.
Consider this a challenge. We, your beleaguered customers, sit “ers” and sit “ees” alike, respectfully throw down the gauntlet. We’d throw down the armrest as well, but as you know, we all too often can’t.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright, 200-2011, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, all rights reserved
The Astonishing Stash Attack
CHUCKLE #462 | August 3rd, 2011
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Every woman has secrets, and the biggest one of all is where she hides her stash of chocolate. My mom had a stash, and I’m pretty sure her mom did as well. I protect my stash by moving it frequently and by inexpertly juggling a set of very large Ginsu knives in front of my children. To scare them of course.
It can't hurt to impress upon my kids the fact that I am crazy enough to unleash unspeakable punishments upon them if they desecrate my stash. But that doesn’t stop them from seeking it like the Holy Grail.
Chocolate does that to people.
My kids already think that I’m slightly off my rocker. But they haven’t seen anything like what would happen if they actually ate my chocolate. I would cut them down like a jungle ninja. I would rend my garments. Then I would have their stomachs pumped, out of pure spite.
They say that good parents are clear about consequences. If that is true, then I am doing an excellent job.
Despite my efforts at “clarity” my kids find the very thought of my stash irresistible. They poke around quietly and act as if I’m clueless about what they are up to. I am really not that much of an idiot. (Unless you ask me to stream Vudu on the TV in the basement. Good luck with that.)
Dark chocolate is not my only vice, but it is my healthiest. Consuming up to 2 pounds of chocolate a day has been clinically proven to make women happier. (You’ll break out like a 14 year old, and weigh as much as a SUV, but you’ll be smiling.)
Chocolate consumption also promotes a healthy sexual appetite, which explains why guys give women chocolates all the time and why Godiva now offers a 4lb gift box of truffles called “love potion”. They are delicious.
I NEED a steady supply of high quality dark chocolate just like I NEED my morning coffee. Does that mean I’m addicted to chocolate or simply that I’m stuck in an existential routine from which my only relief is a seconds-long ecstatic rendezvous with a tiny piece of processed cacao?
Don’t answer that. (Self-analysis rarely cheers me up.)
And as it turned out, the successful stash attack didn’t come from the kids at all.
Just last week some mice found my best stuff* and chewed their way into the box. Then, and I’m only guessing about this part, they ran around inside the box and had an orgy. If the kids hadn’t been in the room when I discovered this, I might have been tempted to eat the chocolate anyway, it being chocolate and all.
In the end, sanity won out. Or rather fear did. I knew the kids would tell my husband and that he would be pretty grossed out if I ate rodent enhanced sweets. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was throwing that chocolate away. That’s how much I love my husband.
If he loves me back, he’ll probably come home with another box of my favorite chocolates very soon. This time I’ll keep them in a mouse AND kid proof hiding place. And just to be on the safe side, it can’t hurt to keep juggling those Ginsu knives.
*my “best stuff” is from Gertrude Hawk Chocolates. Get two boxes of the Dark Chocolate Silk Smidgens and hide them well!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2011, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, all rights reserved
scroll down to leave a comment
Every woman has secrets, and the biggest one of all is where she hides her stash of chocolate. My mom had a stash, and I’m pretty sure her mom did as well. I protect my stash by moving it frequently and by inexpertly juggling a set of very large Ginsu knives in front of my children. To scare them of course.
It can't hurt to impress upon my kids the fact that I am crazy enough to unleash unspeakable punishments upon them if they desecrate my stash. But that doesn’t stop them from seeking it like the Holy Grail.
Chocolate does that to people.
My kids already think that I’m slightly off my rocker. But they haven’t seen anything like what would happen if they actually ate my chocolate. I would cut them down like a jungle ninja. I would rend my garments. Then I would have their stomachs pumped, out of pure spite.
They say that good parents are clear about consequences. If that is true, then I am doing an excellent job.
Despite my efforts at “clarity” my kids find the very thought of my stash irresistible. They poke around quietly and act as if I’m clueless about what they are up to. I am really not that much of an idiot. (Unless you ask me to stream Vudu on the TV in the basement. Good luck with that.)
Dark chocolate is not my only vice, but it is my healthiest. Consuming up to 2 pounds of chocolate a day has been clinically proven to make women happier. (You’ll break out like a 14 year old, and weigh as much as a SUV, but you’ll be smiling.)
Chocolate consumption also promotes a healthy sexual appetite, which explains why guys give women chocolates all the time and why Godiva now offers a 4lb gift box of truffles called “love potion”. They are delicious.
I NEED a steady supply of high quality dark chocolate just like I NEED my morning coffee. Does that mean I’m addicted to chocolate or simply that I’m stuck in an existential routine from which my only relief is a seconds-long ecstatic rendezvous with a tiny piece of processed cacao?
Don’t answer that. (Self-analysis rarely cheers me up.)
And as it turned out, the successful stash attack didn’t come from the kids at all.
Just last week some mice found my best stuff* and chewed their way into the box. Then, and I’m only guessing about this part, they ran around inside the box and had an orgy. If the kids hadn’t been in the room when I discovered this, I might have been tempted to eat the chocolate anyway, it being chocolate and all.
In the end, sanity won out. Or rather fear did. I knew the kids would tell my husband and that he would be pretty grossed out if I ate rodent enhanced sweets. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was throwing that chocolate away. That’s how much I love my husband.
If he loves me back, he’ll probably come home with another box of my favorite chocolates very soon. This time I’ll keep them in a mouse AND kid proof hiding place. And just to be on the safe side, it can’t hurt to keep juggling those Ginsu knives.
*my “best stuff” is from Gertrude Hawk Chocolates. Get two boxes of the Dark Chocolate Silk Smidgens and hide them well!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Get your Weekly Chuckle via email at http://www.laughoutloudmom.com/
Copyright 2008-2011, LOLmom.com, Greenwich CT, all rights reserved
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