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Topic: Holiday 's
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 01-31-2008 06:43 PM
Rated G ![[Smile]](smile.gif) Natowsky
PRE-VALENTINE'S DAY THOUGHTS:
---As always, one can say that love, especially now, can be very contagious!
---We used to be so concerned about love and affection. Now, our main concern is love and infection!
---Love and marriage, as the song is sung from 1956, "go together like a horse and carriage." What! When was the last time you used a carriage? Since we now all use cars, it should be love and living together go hand in hand with your huge SUV and three dollars a gallon for gas!
---No longer is it "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways," but instead, it's now, before we get married, we're gonna have one darn good prenup! I guess that's also a way of counting!
---If Love Makes The World Go 'Round, what happens with all the divorces taking place? Start, stop, start, stop, start, stop...
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 12-24-2008 07:50 AM
Rated X
A Christmas to remember!
This is an article submitted to a 1999 Louisville Sentinel contest to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinners.
It won first prize.
As a joke, my brother Jay used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them.
What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.
If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, 'What does this do?' 'You're kidding me!' 'Who would buy that?' Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.
I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. 'Love Dolls' come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for 'Lovable Louise.' She was at the bottom of the price scale.
To call Louise a 'doll' took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.
My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone,
I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained
of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy, but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start
to walk away, then come back and bark some more.
We all agreed that Louise should remain in her pantyhose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door.
'What the hell is that?' she asked.
My brother quickly explained, 'It's a doll.'
'Who would play with something like that?' Granny snapped.
I kept my mouth shut.
'Where are her clothes?' Granny continued.
'Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran,' Jay said, to steer
her into the dining room.
But Granny was relentless. 'Why doesn't she have any teeth?'
Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, 'Hang on Granny, hang on!'
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, ' Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?' I told him she was Jay's friend.
A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the mantel, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants.
Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room,
and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.
Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh.
Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.
I can't wait until next Christmas! ![[Eek!]](eek.gif)
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 12-25-2008 07:38 AM
Rated R Jokester
An Italian-American Christmas Eve Dinner
I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be interesting for a non-Italian girl to see how an Italian family spends the holidays.
I thought my mother and my date would hit it off like partridges and pear trees.....I was wrong!
I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended the invitation.
"I know these family things can be a little weird," I told her, "but my folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun on Christmas Eve."
"Sounds fine to me," Karen said.
I told my mother I'd be bringing Karen with me.
"She's a very nice girl and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you."
"Sounds fine to me," my mother said.
And that was that.
Two telephone calls. Two sounds-fine-to-me.
What more could I want?
I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian households, Christmas Eve is the social event of the season - an Italian woman's reason for living. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening. Christmas Eve is what Italian women live for.
I should also point out, I suppose, that when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being.
I brought her anyway.
7 p.m. - we arrive.
Karen and I walk in and putter around for half an hour waiting for the other guests to show up. During that half hour, my mother grills Karen like cheeseburger on the barbecue determines that Karen does not clean, cook, or bake.
My father is equally observant.
He pulls me into the living room and notes, "She has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being."
7:30 p.m. Others arrive.
Zio Giovanni walks in with my Zia Maria, assorted kids, assorted gifts. We sit around the dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black olives, anchovies and cheese....no meat of course.
When I offer to make Karen's plate she says, "No Thank you." She points to the anchovies with a look of disgust....
"You don't like anchovies?" I ask.
"I don't like fish, Karen announces to one and all as 67 other varieties of seafood are baking, broiling and simmering in the next room.
My mother makes the sign of the cross.
Things are getting uncomfortable.
Zia Maria asks Karen what her family eats on Christmas Eve.
Karen says, "Knockwurst."
My father, who is still staring in a daze, at Karen's chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmur, "Knockers?"
My mother kicks him so hard he gets a blood clot.
None of this is turning out the way I'd hoped.
8:00 p.m. Second course.
The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the table.
Karen declines the crab sauce and says she'll make her own with butter and ketchup.
My mother asks me to join her in the kitchen.
I take my "Merry Christmas" napkin from my lap, place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen.
"I don't want to start any trouble," my mother says calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands. "But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm going to throw acid in her face."
"Come on," I tell her.
"It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants."
My mother considers the situation, then nods.
As I turn to walk back into the dining room, she grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth," she says, "are you serious with this tramp?"
"She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks." "Well, it's your life," she tells me, "but if you marry her, she'll poison you."
8:30 p.m. More fish.
My stomach is knotted like one of those macrame plant hangers that are always three times larger than the plants they hold.
All the women get up to clear away the spaghetti dishes, except for Karen, who, instead, lights a cigarette.
"Why don't you give them a little hand?" I politely suggest. Karen makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks. "Dear, you don't have to do that," my mother tells her, smiling painfully. "Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the forks on the sink. As she reenters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head, and smashes against the wall. >From the kitchen, my mother says, "Whoops."
More fish comes out. After some goading, Karen tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy, like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like one of those old women you always see in the sixth row of a funeral home.
Zia Maria does the same. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Zio Giovanni doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the tablecloth.
10:00 pm. Coffee, dessert.
Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later.
Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, picks up a cannoli and slaps my mother with it.
"This is fun," Karen says.
Time passes and believe it or not, everyone is laughing and smiling and filled with good cheer - even my mother, who grabs me by the shoulder, laughs and says,
"Get this bitch out of my house."
Sounds fine to me.
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 12-27-2008 03:29 PM
Rated R Jokester
When I'm feeling down, I like to whistle. It makes the neighbor's dog run to the end of his chain and gag himself.
A penny saved is a government oversight.
The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight, because by then your body and your fat have gotten to be really good friends.
The easiest way to find something lost around the house is to buy a replacement.
Did you ever notice: The Roman Numerals for forty (40) are “XL."
If you think there is good in everybody, you haven't met everybody.
The sole purpose of a child's middle name is so he can tell when he's really in trouble.
There's always a lot to be thankful for if you take time to look for it. For example I am sitting here thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don't hurt.
Did you ever notice: When you put the 2 words "The" and "IRS" together it spells "Theirs?"
Aging: Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.
The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.
One of the many things no one tells you about aging is that it is such a nice change from being young.
First you forget names, then you forget faces. Then you forget to pull up your zipper. It's worse when you forget to pull it down.
Long ago when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today, it's called golf.
Is it good if a vacuum really sucks?
Why is the third hand on the watch called the second hand?
If a word is misspelled in the dictionary, how would we ever know?
If Webster wrote the first dictionary, where did he find the words?
Why do we say something is out of whack? What is a whack?
Why does "slow down" and "slow up" mean the same thing?
Why does "fat chance" and "slim chance" mean the same thing?
Why do "tug" boats push their barges?
Why do we sing "Take me out to the ball game" when we are already there?
Why are they called "stands" when they are made for sitting?
Why is it called "after dark" when it really is "after light"?
Doesn't "expecting the unexpected" make the unexpected expected?
Why are a "wise man" and a "wise guy" opposites?
Why do "overlook" and "oversee" mean opposite things?
Why is "phonics" not spelled the way it sounds?
If work is so terrific, why do they have to pay you to do it?
If all the world is a stage, where is the audience sitting?
If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
If you are cross-eyed and have dyslexia, can you read all right?
Why is bra singular and panties plural?
Why do you press harder on the buttons of a remote control when you know the batteries are dead?
Why do we put suits in garment bags and garments in a suitcase?
How come abbreviated is such a long word?
Why do we wash bath towels? Aren't we clean when we use them?
Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?
Why do they call it a TV set when you only have one? ![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 12-30-2008 08:03 PM
Rated G Jokester
New Year Resolutions
May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions.
A New Year's resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other.
Making resolutions is a cleansing ritual of self-assessment and repentance that demands personal honesty and, ultimately, reinforces humility. Breaking them is part of the cycle.
The proper behavior all through the holiday season is to be drunk. This drunkenness culminates on New Year's Eve, when you get so drunk you kiss the person you're married to.
Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late on New Year's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to.
Many people look forward to the New Year for a new start on old habits.
An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.
People are so worried about what they eat between Christmas and the New Year, but they really should be worried about what they eat between the New Year and Christmas.
Never tell your resolution beforehand, or it's twice as onerous a duty.
He who breaks a resolution is a weakling; He who makes one is a fool.
Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account.
Just for today, I will not sit in my living room all day in my nightdress. Instead, I will move my computer into the bedroom.
I will no longer waste my time relieving the past, instead I will spend it worrying about the future.
I will not bore my boss by with the same excuse for taking leaves. I will think of some more excuses.
I will do less laundry and use more deodorant.
I will avoid taking a bath whenever possible and conserve more water.
Assure my lawyer that I will never again show up drunk at a custody hearing.
I will give up chocolates totally. 100%. Completely. Honestly....
I will try to figure out why I *really* need nine e-mail addresses.
I will stop sending e-mails to my wife (husband).
I resolve to work with neglected children -- my own.
I will stop sending e-mail, ICQ, Instant Messages and be on the phone at the same time with the same person.
I will spend less than one hour a day on the Internet. This, of course, will be hard to estimate since I'm not a clock watcher.
I will read the manual... just as soon as I can find it.
I will think of a password other than "password."
I will not tell the same story at every get together.
I won't worry so much.
I will cut my hair.
I will grow my hair.
I will stop considering other people's feelings when they so obviously don't consider mine - if that unwashed fellow sits next to me again, I'll tell him he stinks!
I will be more imaginative.
I will not hang around girls - they think you love them and that sucks.
I will not ring the stewardess button on airplanes just to get her phone number.
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 12-30-2008 08:07 PM
Rated R Jokester
Spending more time with family:
Families are complicated enough, but things became even more confusing after my father decided to get married to my brother's mother-in-law. "Now I can't make up my mind whether he's my dad or my father-in- law," says my brother, "or if my mother-in-law is now my stepmother, or whether my child is my daughter or my niece."
Getting in shape:
A friend of mine had resisted efforts to get him to run with our jogging group until his doctor told him he had to exercise. Soon thereafter, he reluctantly joined us for our 5:30 a.m. jogs on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
After a month of running, we decided that my friend might be hooked, especially when he said he had discovered what "runner's euphoria" was. "Runner's euphoria," he explained, "is what I feel at 5:30 on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."
Starting that diet:
My friend Kimberly announced that she had started a diet to lose some pounds she had put on recently.
"Good!" I exclaimed. "I'm ready to start a diet too. We can be dieting buddies and help each other out. When I feel the urge to drive out and get a burger and fries, I'll call you first."
"Great!" she replied. "I'll ride with you."
Quitting smoking:
I discussed peer pressure and cigarettes with my 12-year-old daughter. Having struggled for years to quit, I described how I had started smoking to "be cool."
As I outlined the arguments kids might make to tempt her to try it, she stopped me mid-lecture, saying, "Hey, I'll just tell them my mom smokes. How cool can it be?"
Eating healthier:
The teacher in our Bible class asked a woman to read from the Book of Numbers about the Israelites wandering in the desert. "The Lord heard you when you wailed, 'If only we had meat to eat!' " she began. "Now the Lord will give you meat. You will not eat it for just one day, or two days, or five, or ten or twenty days, but for a month—until you loathe it."
When the woman finished, she paused, looked up, and said, "Hey, isn't that the Atkins diet?"
Reducing your debt:
Neighbors of ours had a terrible disagreement over a patio they wanted for their backyard. The wife had rather grand ideas, while the husband wanted costs kept to a minimum. The wife won out, and the construction bill climbed higher and higher.
I dropped by one day, when the patio was near completion, and was surprised to find the husband smiling from ear to ear as the workmen smoothed over the surface. I remarked how nice it was to see a grin replace the frown he had been wearing lately.
“You see where they’re smoothing that cement?” he replied. “I just threw my wife’s credit cards in there.”
Learning new things:
I was trying to decide what to do for a talent show I planned to enter. Trusting my mother to help me out, I asked, "For the show, what do you think I should do, sing or put on a comedy act?"
Glancing up from her paper, she said dryly, "What's the difference?"
Better teeth care:
Just because one owns a business doesn't mean it has to be all business. This sign in a dentist's office proves that point: "Be True to Your Teeth, or They Will Be False to You."
Becoming more organized:
My friend’s husband is always telling her that housekeeping would be a snap if only she would organize her time better. Recently he had a chance to put his theory into practice while his wife was away.
When I popped in one evening to see how he was managing, he crowed, "I made a cake, frosted it, washed the kitchen windows, cleaned all the cupboards, scrubbed the kitchen floor, walls and ceiling and even had a bath."
I was about to concede that perhaps he was a better manager than his wife, when he added sheepishly, "When I was making the chocolate frosting, I forgot to turn off the mixer before taking the beaters out of the bowl, so I had to do all the rest."
Drinking less
I was waiting tables in a noisy lobster restaurant in Maine when a vacationing Southerner stumped me with a drink order. I approached the bartender. "Have you ever heard of a drink called 'Seven Young Blondes'?" I asked. He admitted he'd never heard of it, and grabbed a drink guidebook to look it up. Unable to find the recipe, he then asked me to go back and tell the patron that he'd be happy to make the drink if he could list the ingredients for him. "Sir," I asked the customer, "can you tell me what's in that drink?"
He looked at me like I was crazy. "It's wine," he said, pronouncing his words carefully, "Sauvignon Blanc."
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 12-30-2008 08:09 PM
Rated PG Jokester
Weeweechu
A romantic full moon hangs in the sky over Pedro the chihuahua and his girlfriend, Rosita. Gradually, a mood begins rising in Pedro, and he sidles up to Rosita and whispers in her ear, "Hey, mamacita, let's do Weeweechu."
"Oh, Pedro," sighs Rosita, "can't we just look at the beautiful moon for a little while?"
"Oh, baby," begs Pedro. "You know I love you... and it's the perfect time of the evening. C'mon, let's you and I do Weeweechu... jus' for a li'l bit."
"But I just wanna snuggle and watch the moon," Rosita pouts.
"Please, corazoncito, just once, do Weeweechu with me."
A small, soft smile touches the corners of Rosita's lips as she looks into Pedro's eyes. "Alright, Pedro," she says. "I love you too, and we can do Weeweechu together. But just one time, okay?"
Pedro eagerly nods as he grabs his guitar, and they both begin to sing....
"Weeweechu a Merry Christmas, Weeweechu a Merry Christmas, Weeweechu a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!"
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