Living It Up

Many of you (one) have (has?) expressed interest in the fact that I moved out of The Old Folks Home. Here is the list of things that went wrong:

Maude Frickert died. She was the last person to love Bing Crosby.
Gravy is fattening.
Feelgood Haines got on my nerves.
My buddy Feelgood Haines has moved into my new place, too.
The new administrator is a Hawaiian. You ever hear somebody speak pidgin Hawaiian? No? She didn't either.
They finally washed the windows. I could see I was living in a swamp.
They wanted more money than I was willing to give. Ipso facto...

Here is where I live now. The door to my apartment (lower level, center) is partially hidden by the stairs to the neighbor lady's place. She has a friendly dog, one of those things that is not a chihuahua or a weenie dog. Earnest terrier?


This is where I sit. You can see I am reading Vicki's b**g, on accounta it is so perky. This is a mess, but I know where everything is, so up yours. Over to the left is my new scanner-printer-copier-fax. Most of it works.

Here's a picture of part of my living room. It is pretty boring. So am I. If you fart in a forest, and there's no one there to hear it, does it still smell?

This is my swell kitchen. Shown: My new coffee pot. Not shown: My new espresso maker. I cooked this morning for the first time in four years: eggs and toast. I am so clever. Also pretty, in case you have forgotten. Tonight: Red beans and rice.

This is a water color whipped up by my new girlfriend. I cannot tell you much about her, for she is shy. Just know that Ol' Hoss is supremely happy with this development. Oh, I can tell you this: She is VERY pretty.

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My favorite word today is gargle. N., how Lister got rich. Def.: The reason you put a mirror on your bathroom ceiling -- so you can watch yourself in action.

My Sis and Rabbits and.....I'm Thinking....

It is with great pleasure that I tell you the winner of the Perfect Post award for July is none other than My Sister. Sure, you say, keep it in the family. Nepotism. Boo hoo. Well, the truth is, this isn't my real sister; this is my b**g sister -- Nathalie Tan Lucy Pez. Mother of all Pezes, of which there are plenty.

On about July 10 Ms. Tan Lucy wrote about taking a little trip to the restroom. Ho ho har de har har. There is no such thing as "a little trip." Go read this jewel at Tan Lucy's Place.

These awards are made possible by Momma K and Lucinda. I love 'em to pieces. If you go to Momma's place you can see/visit all the winners.

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Rabbit! Rabbit!

Lookie here. Junior is about to take off, with ears akimbo. (Or whatever ears do.)

You know the drill: You say Rabbit! Rabbit! at the first of the month and you will have good luck all month long. Works for me, no kidding....

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Hilary gets elected President and is spending her first night in the White House. She has waited so long... And suddenly the ghost of George Washington appears.

She says, "How can I serve my country?"

George says, "Never tell a lie."

Hilary: "Ouch. I didn't know about that."

The next night, the ghost of Thomas Jefferson appears.

Hilary asks, "How can I best serve my country?"

Jefferson says, "Listen to the people."

Hilary: "Ooooh. That doesn't sound good."

On the third night, the ghost of Abe Lincoln appears.

Hilary asks: "How best can I serve my country?"

Abe: "Go to the theater."

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My favorite word today is monogamy. N., a word little known in Utah. Def.: The marriage of one man and one woman and just a few mistresses.

I've Been Moved

For the last two days I have been moving. I am now moved. More tomorrow (big day --with rabbits and stuff).

Short Shrift Sunday

This is Sunday. Ol' Hoss never posts on Sunday, so if you'll excuse me I'll

Oh Dang I Am So Sorry.

You think you have problems? How about Ol' Stupid Hoss?

Publish Bizarre Saturday Post on Friday and....Well, hell.

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I am trying to catch up. Here is a secondary Insipid Saturday Post joke:

Two Cajun fishermen, Boudreaux and Thibodeaux, go deep into the bayou, fishing. They were gone a couple of weeks.

On their return they noticed a Taco Bell had been built while they were out trolling crawdads.

Boudreaux turns to Thibodeaux and says, "Look at dat, man, we not gone no time and dem Messicans done come over here and built a telephone company."

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My favorite word today is hen. N., Rhode Island Red commie. Def.: How an egg makes an egg.

Short Shrift Saturday #35

This little sucker is a stuffed squirrel that my best buddy Vicki sent to me. See, Vicki lives in this big house in Michigan and is moving to a littler house in Chicago, so she had to unload some of her treasures.

Not shown are two little hand-blown glass ornaments that Vicki included. I had to sort carefully through a billion pieces of peanut foam to find them, so I am, of course, sending a bill.

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(Rats! I knew this wasn't Saturday. but I slipped a cog. So it goes.....Tomorrow, this post will be timely. Read it then.)

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Two buffalo are standing on the range when a passing motorist sees them.

He says to his wife, "Those are the mangiest, scroungiest, most moth-eaten miserable beasts I've ever seen."

So one buffalo says to the other: "I think I just heard a discouraging word."

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This contortionist is almost beyond belief.

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My favorite word today is recess. N., school days, school days. Def.: When fat kids go outside to eat.

Life is All Bass Ackwards

Progressively getting old really sucks. Here I am 75 and 300/365ths (60/73rds) and my health is not improving. I am sort of stagnant. Doctors call this "too bad."

What is needed is a reversal of form, like so:

You wake up dead. Get it over with.

You find yourself in a nursing home, but you begin feeling better every day.

You get kicked out of the nursing home for being too healthy. Pass "Go" and collect your pension.

Start to work. On your first day, collect your gold watch.

Work 40 years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement.

Drink alcohol, party, become generally promiscuous as you get ready for high school.

You go to primary school, become a kid, play, have no responsibilities.

You become a baby, spending your last 9 months floating peacefully with luxuries like central heating, spa, room service, and larger quarters every day.

Finish life as an orgasm. How sweet it is!

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A Pole goes to the optometrist. The Doc shows him a sign that says:

C Z W X N Q S T A C Z

"Can you read this?," he asks.

"Read it?," says the Pole. "I know the guy."

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My favorite word today is palatable. N., thatsa good. Def.: What the friendly Italian hospital puts you on to wheel you into surgery.

Give It Your All

Got a caption on you?


I have often wanted to do this: Print a picture and invite you to give me a caption for it. This picture begs to be captioned.

Put your entry in the comments. The best one will get a mighty fine prize. Honest. So write some of your good ol' pap today. This "contest" ends 7/30/2006. Feelgood Haines will be the sole judge. This is so the sucker won't be eligible to win.

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A guy walks into a bar carrying a dachshund that has on a Michigan State University jersey and helmet. The dog is festooned with MSU pom poms. The bartender holds up a hand: "No way! No animals in here. You'll have to leave."

The guy says, "Oh, give me a break. I'm desperate. We're both big fans but the TV set is broken at home. This is the only place we can see the MSU-Michigan game."

After securing a promise the dog will behave, the bartender lets the guy stay to watch the game.

The big game begins with MSU receiving the kick. The Spartans move smartly down the field, but bog down at the 30 yard line. So they kick a field goal.

The dachshund goes nuts. He marches up and down the bar, high-fiving all the patrons.

The bartender says, "Wow! That is the most amazing thing I've ever seen. What does the dog do when MSU scores a touchdown?"

The guy says, "I don't know. I've only had him three years."

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(There, Vicki. Now we can be pals again. Sorry, Bonnie.)

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My favorite word today is benign. Adj., what you always want your doctor to say. Def.: What you be after you be eight.

I've Got Worms

A minister decided that a visual demonstra- tion would add emphasis to his Sunday sermon.

So he put four worms into four separate jars. The first worm was put into a container of alcohol. The second worm was put into a container of cigarette smoke. The third worm was put into a container of chocolate syrup. The fourth worm was put into a container of good, clean earth.

At the conclusion of the sermon, the pastor announced the results:

The first worm, in alcohol: Dead
The second worm, in cigarette smoke: Dead
The third worm, in chocolate syrup: Dead
The fourth worm in good, clean soil: Alive and wriggling.

So the minister asked the congregation: "What can you learn from this demonstration?"

A little old lady in the back raised her hand and testified: "As long as you drink, smoke and eat chocolate, you won't have worms."

(I got this little juicer from my pal Vicki. Thanks, Vicki.)

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My favorite word today is unclean. N., there's gotta be a way. Def.: The person who is unable to balance the hot and cold water taps.

You Can Get There From Here

I sent Kathleen, my Iowa pal, over some dunes and down to the ocean, where ol' breathless cannot go, so she could get in her daily three miles of running. Meanwhile, I took this picture of Siletz Bay, which is just south of Lincoln City, on the Central Oregon Coast. I did not show Kathleen my walking on water gambit because she isn't from Missouri ("Show me.").

Backing up, we started in Corvallis, where Katie is working temporarily. Corvallis is like Lansing, Mich., home of a cow college (Oregon State University). We headed for some Mo's clam chowder but as usual the joint was packed so we opted for the Rogue Ale place. Good choice: Got us some "Dead Guy Ale." See, what they do is, they put a corpse in the beer vat, steam it up and.... Well, maybe not. Tasted fine, whatever they did.

We overnighted at Salishan Resort, a ritzy joint just south of Lincoln City. Kathy had chicken (for god's sake; right in the middle of seafood central!!). I, of course, did not have clams, oysters, halibut, bottom fish, shrimp or salmon because I have had all those before. So I got Muscovy Duck. Wow. You should be so lucky.

On the way back, we had to stop at Alder House, where they blow glass into intricate patterns. This guy (Tim?) made a flower vase before our very eyes. You click on this picture and you can see the near-end result of his blow job.

This is a pretty simple operation: You heat up an oven to 2500 degrees, stick your hand in it to make sure it's plenty hot....

You heat up an oven till it's pretty hot. Then you grab some coloring -- Tim says: "This is rose, like in a Crayola box." Nobody had any Crayolas so he won that round. In about 15 minutes he had a beautiful vase, like all the other stuff in his shop. Boy howdy, it would be nice to have some talent like that.

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My favorite word today is talent. N., when extra goes in front of ordinary. Def.: The difference between a kazoo and a piano.

Shrove Sunday

I don't even know what a "shrove" is, and I am not going to look it up.

I am only posting today to tell you that I posted as a sub for Candace. You can see a mighty fine post over there.

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My favorite word today is conceit. N., I am prettier than you. Def.: A disease that makes everyone sick except the guy who's got it.

Short Shrift Saturday #34

Bush is my shepherd; I dwell in want.
He maketh logs to be cut down in national forests.
He leadeth me into stolen wilderness.
He restoreth my fears.
He leadeth me into the paths of international disgrace
For his ego's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution and war,
I will find no exit, for thou art in office.

The tax cuts for the rich and thy media control,
They discomfort me.
Thou preparest an agenda of deception in presence of thy religion.
Thou anointest my head with foreign oil.
My health insurance runneth out.

Surely megalomania and false patriotism
Shall follow me all the days of thy term,
And my jobless child shall dwell in my basement forever.

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My favorite word today is procrastination. N., manana, amigo. Def.:

Cadillacs and Fallow Deer

So on Wednesday I went to visit my brother over in Bend, OR. And Thursday morning his wife poured my coffee in this mug. Boy howdy, it is hard to get away from Tisha. Don't mess with Texas, indeed...

Anyway, it was a grand trip. First, I went to see my sister-in-law, Wendy, at her shop, Trivia Antiques. It is maybe 20x40 feet, and has 50x100 feet of goods in it. My brother, who is not married to Wendy but to Ann, then took me around to see five or six of the houses we used to live in (all are worthy of being torn down). Then I went for dinner to Ariana's, where I had rack of superbo lamb. With no mint jelly, thank you.

A highlight of the day was the discovery that a three-block-long street has been named Mervin Sampels Road, after my uncle. But it should have been named after me, for I lived there after he did. I never got the well dug, though.

My brother (Richard/Dick) also showed me around his neighborhood. (This is the view from his porch. If you click on the picture, you can see, in the center, Mt. Bachelor, which is over 9,000 feet high. To the right [unshown] are three mountains -- the Three Sisters -- all of whom top 10,000 feet. Spectaulum.) One of his neighbors raises fallow deer, which he claims are very low in fat. I would have a hard time terminating one of the flock -- they all look like Bambi.

Another neighbor stores stuff, mostly old Cadillacs. He has 37 Cadillacs in about all ages, in one condition: broken beyond repair. He also has a whole boxcar from a railroad and a barn that had to be built twice, for the first time it was on the county right-of-way. Nobody (except maybe him, and there is some doubt about that) knows why he has all this stuff.

Prices for housing have gotten outrageous in Bend -- some new condos are going up that will cost $700,000 to $1.2 million per each. Dick once asked a realtor what he could get for his own place, which is a house with 3 bedrooms, an office, large kitchen and living room, a spa, and a formal dining area, sitting on 10 acres of irrigated pasture, with a gorgeous view. The response: "Anything you want."

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My favorite word today is failure. N., dope; I told you that wouldn't work. Def.: The path of least persistence.

The Receptionist Who Receives

The 86-year-old man walks into a crowded reception room and approaches the desk. The receptionist says, "Yes sir, what are you seeing the doctor for today?"

"There's something wrong with my dick," he responds. Irritated, the receptionist says, "You shouldn't come into a crowded room and say things like that." He says, "Why not? You asked, and I told you."

The receptionist replied, "Now you've caused some embarrassment in this room full of people. You should have said there is something wrong with your ear or something, and discussed the problem further with the doctor in private. Why don't you just start over?"

So the man leaves, waits a few minutes, and returns. "I'd like to see the doctor, please, about my ear."

"And what is wrong with your ear, sir?" the receptionist asks.

"I can't piss out of it."

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My favorite word today is fruit. N., you little rotter, you. Def.: One whose hands and toes turn prunelike after he has stayed too long in the bathtub.

When Gross Is Not 144

A hefty woman goes into the bar, raises her arm -- revealing a huge patch of black hair -- and points at all the men therein assembled. "Who's gonna buy a lady a drink?" she demands.

She is ignored, except for one little old drunk guy down at the end of the bar. He tells the bartender, "Ah, hell, Joe, give the ballerina a drink."

So the bartender pours and the lady tosses it down in one gulp. She raises her arm again -- once more revealing a huge patch of black hair -- and points at all the drinkers and says, "Who's gonna buy a lady a drink?"

Nobody responds -- except for the little old drunk guy down at the end of the bar. "Sure, Joe, give the ballerina another drink."

Joe says, "You can do what you want with your money, old timer. But tell me, why do you call her a ballerina?"

"Anybody who can raise her leg that high has got to be a ballerina."

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St. Paul, Rufus and Ol' Hoss are out fishing when St. Paul says, "It would be nice to have a sandwich." So St. Paul gets up, walks across the water, buys some sandwiches and everybody is happy.

Except Rufus. "A beer sure would go good."

Hoss says, "I'll get it." And he walks across the water, buys a six-pack and returns.

Rufus says, "Boy that was good. I think we need another six-pack. I'll get it." He steps on the water and sinks to the bottom.

St. Paul says, "We should have told him about the stones."

And Hoss says, "What stones?"

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My favorite word today is cynic. N., a guy who doesn't believe in ballerinas. Def.: A true non-believer.

The Squire in Action

Feelgood Haines: "Who's that lady I see you squirin' around the place, Hoss?"

Hoss: "That's no lady. That's a b**gger."

Feelgood: "Looked like a woman to me. What was she doin' in your room? I know, I know! None of my business. But of course you wanna tell me."

Hoss: "Why would I want to tell you?"

Feelgood: "Nobody, not even you, could stand the rumors I'm gonna start otherwise. So, give, Hoss, what's the lowdown?"

Hoss: "The lady's name is Kathleen. She is from Iowa. She is pure as the undriven snow, so don't get your shorts all bunched up."

Feelgood: "Well, what was she doin' in your room?"

Hoss: "We was gonna dump..."

Feelgood: "Oh, I knew this would be good!"

Hoss: "...some material onto my computer. Then we planned to converge..."

Feelgood: "Right there in your room! You hardly know her, Hoss!"

Hoss: "...our systems for data protection."

Feelgood: "Oh."

Hoss: "Feelgood?"

Feelgood: "Yeah?"

Hoss: "Up yours."

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My favorite phrase today is Dutch Boy. Stir, stir, toil and trouble. Def.: A slat used to stir up paint which is then stored uselessly and eternally.

How to Be Sure You're a Republican

It is some puddin' what you can find on the Internet (I always capitalize "Internet" to distinguish it from "Phone Company"). For instance, there is this guy who can put a cell phone in a beer bottle, while people are watching closely. You can see it by going here. It is unexplained and inexplicable.

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And then if you want to see a streaker get his comeuppance, which, of course, you do, then go here.

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I stole from Lorraine this missive about what you need to believe to be a Republican:

Jesus loves you, and shares your hatred of homosexuals and Hilary Clinton.

Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist, but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.

A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body, but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind without regulation.

If condoms are kept out of schools, adolescents won't have sex.

A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle our long-time allies, then demand their cooperation and money.

Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science, but creationism should be taught in schools.

Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.

Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you're a conservative radio host. Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.

Give support to hunters who shoot their friends and blame them for wearing orange vests similar to those worn by quail.

A President lying about an extramarital affair is an impeachable offense, but a President lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.

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My favorite phrase today is foreign aid. N., what's a few billion among friends? Def.: Take from the poor in a rich country and give to the rich in a poor country.

Short Shrift Saturday #33

As a woman passed her daughter's closed bedroom door, she heard a strange buzzing noise coming from within. Opening the door, she observed her daughter giving herself joy with a vibrator.

Shocked, she asks, "Just what are you doing?"

The daughter replied, "Mom, I'm 35 years old, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Go away and leave me alone."

The next day, the girl's father heard the same buzzing noise and he entered to see his daughter making passionate love to her vibrator. To his question as to what she was doing, she said, "Dad, I'm 35 years old, unmarried, and this thing is about as close as I'll ever get to a husband. Go away and leave me alone."

The following day, the wife came home from shopping and heard the buzzing noise coming from -- of all places -- the living room. She entered and observed her husband sitting on the couch, downing a cold beer and staring at the TV. The vibrator was next to him on the couch.

The wife says, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm watching baseball with my son-in-law."

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My favorite word today is indescribable. Adj., boy this is going to be tough. Def.: Descriptive of your facial expression that is apparent only upon having a passport photo taken.

A Non-Meme Meme?

I don't know what to call this. It was offered to me by Lisa and Tisha. Good friends of Ol' Hoss, so you know they is right pretty.

What you do is ask yourself a bunch of questions and then give the answers. Easy meat. And it gives me a chance to talk about myself, which is a terrific subject.

FIRST NAME? Lowell (ugh).
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Lowell, Massachusetts. Middle name is Eugene, for Eugene, Oregon. Last name is Maudlin for drunk dipshit.
WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? Hoo boy, probably sometime in March.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Nobody who can read likes my handwriting because they can't read it.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCHMEAT? Where's the question about peanut butter?
KIDS? Threesome: Good, bad and indifferent.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? I'm thinking...
DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? Is "journal" a b**g? I got me one of those.
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? You're doing a GREAT job here Hoss.
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? No, and the ice cream they gave me is also gone.
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Jump whom?
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Is s'mores a cereal?
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? I got these kind with Velcro. I haven't tied a shoe for 20 years.
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? It's relative. I can lift two pieces of paper, so I ain't no fairy weakling, I guess.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Is this the question about peanut butter?
SHOE SIZE? 10 1/2, if you've worn 'em. Otherwise, 10.
RED OR PINK: Nonsense. Orange.
WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I have developed a pot gut in the last six months. I am hoping it's cancer because I hate to diet.
WHOM DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Oh, boo. This almost makes me cry again. My wife.
WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Blue black.
LAST THING YOU ATE? Cherry cheesecake. They love me in the old folks' home.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Myself think.
FAVORITE SMELL? After the rain.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My chemist.
THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? Boy howdy, I am a leg man. Do you know what has 2 arms, 2 wings, 3 heads, 3 bodies and 8 legs? A man on a horse holding a chicken.
DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON(S) WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Oh, they are way fine.
FAVORITE DRINK? Root Beer Bourbon and water B&B.
FAVORITE SPORT? Pro football, college basketball.
EYE COLOR? Blue-green-sludge.
FAVORITE FOOD? Oysters Abalone Vienna Sausage.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED AT THE MOVIE THEATRE? Hellzapoppin? I don't know.
HUGS OR KISSES? Followed by a shack job.
WHAT DID YOU LAST READ? "Jersey -- Witches, Ghosts and Traditions." No shit.
WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Picture of my grandson in basketball uniform.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? All-Star baseball. Tough luck, Nationals.
THE FURTHEST YOU'VE BEEN FROM HOME? Map, anyone? Ensenada, Mexico, or Miami, Fla.
WHAT'S YOUR SPECIAL TALENT? I am groovy and scram gravy ain't wavy.

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My favorite word today is remembrance. N., let's see, how did that go? Def.: Recalling something that wasn't quite as good as you thought it was.

To Put a Spin on It

Casey was entered in the Olympics Ice Skating competition. So he took the floor -- and put on the worst performance anybody had ever seen. He couldn't spin, fell three times and continuously ran into the sideboards.

So the judges scored his performance: India 0.0; Great Britain 0.0; Russia 0.0; United States 0.0; Ireland 10.0.

The United States judge turned to the Irish judge and said, "Are you out of your mind? That was terrible!" The Irish judge demurred: "It's very slippery out there, you know."

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A little boy was playing outdoors one day. His used his mother's broom as a horse and had a wonderful time until it began to get dark.

He left the broom on the back porch. His mother was cleaning up the kitchen when she realized her broom was missing. She asked the little boy if he knew where it was.

"It's on the back porch," he said. "Well, go get it for me, please," the mother said.

The boy told Mom that he was afraid of the dark. Well, said Mom, "The Lord is out there, too. Don't be afraid."

So the boy opened the back door a little and said, "Lord, if you're out there, hand me the broom."

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My favorite word today is death. N., and then you reincarnate, right? Def.: Life's way of telling you that you've been fired.

Give a Little Lot

I always knew you had an urge to be a good person. So now Ol’ Hoss gives you a chance to satisfy your deeper urge.

My new buddy, Monty, will be participating July 29 in a 24-hour blogathon for Cerebral Palsy research and care. She is looking for sponsors, which you will shortly be.

See, Monty is the mother of twins, a girl and a boy. The boy has cerebral palsy. But Monty maintains a stiff upper humor. For every $100 she gets pledged to the cause, she will sing a song on audio-phone or podcasted or whatever. Ain’t that neat? (The songs are really ditzy, but Monty is a lot of fun, which makes it all the more neat-o.)

So click on the Monty above, go over and pledge your little heart out. As they say, every little bit helps. But keep in mind that bigger bits help more.

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I’m going to hate myself in the morning, but I can’t resist telling you what I learned when I was dreaming last night: “Carrying babies must be easy; otherwise, they would have men doing it.”

(Bam! Crash! &%#^%$#&()&^$!sucker.) [Hmmm....seems like sounds of discontent among the lovely ladies who visit. Order up an investigation, Watson.]

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My favorite phrase today is successful father. N., can this be? Def.: A person who lets mommy tend to the potty training.

You Gotta Be Scandihoovian

I told you yesterday about my great trip north, from Salem to Seattle. One of the b**ggers I met there, Bonnie, is a graduate of Michigan State University, and loves her some Spartans. So she gave me a blank scoreboard, and I filled it in. This is to one-up her pal Vicki, a graduate of Michigan.

Sorry, Vicki. I guess you had to be there to defend yourself..

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Anyway, there I was at Zoka's Coffee, up in North Seattle, which is getting kind of famous. One of the owners is Tracy Allen, who is chairman of the Rules Committee of the "World Barista Championship." Didn't know about that, did you? Me neither.

A barista is an expert -- like a coffee sommelier -- in things coffee. Naturally, since the English drink tea and we drink coffee, you would expect us to be winning this thing hands down. No soap. In the seven years it has been held, the best showing by an American was third place this year. A Dane has won four times, a Norwegian once, and -- perhaps out of character -- an Australian sobered up enough to win the other time.

Competition is in three categories: espresso, cappuccino, and signature beverage, which must be espresso-based. No booze is allowed, which is why Americans can't win.

Now, back at home, the winner of the Las Vegas Latte Competition (for prettiest presentation) was none other than Reid Hickman, also of Zoka's Coffee fame. Here's his winning entry.

Anyway, this all explains why I paid $19.95 for a pound of beans grown in the shade in Panama. Now, all I need is an expensive espresso machine and I'll be all set.

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My favorite word today is immigration. N., hiring people to pick your nose. Def.: In a survey, 43 percent of the people said this is a serious problem; the other 57 percent said "no hablo ingles."

Speeding, Speeding Over the Bounding Main

The closer I got to home, the faster I went. On accounta it was bedtime. So I got 'er up to 82, which was plenty safe since the cops were far ahead chasing some guy who was doing 100.*

What I was doing was returning home from Seattle (400+ miles there and back; just call me Trucker Bob, who has been driving all over the place lately.) I went there to meet a couple of b**ggers -- Stargazer (Margaret) and Bonnie. We met at this sweet-smelling joint named Zoka's Coffee House, where I got the Thatcher special pound of beans for only $19.95.

Normally, I would say something like: "Here's a picture of Margaret and me. I am the pretty one." But, see, she's real pretty too, so I guess I have to tell you she's the one on the left. Otherwise, you wouldn't know.

Margaret is a pistol, an excellent conversationalist. She bought me a latte, which was terrible, but it wasn't her fault. It was my fault for not knowing what it was. So it goes. But get this in the Small World Dept.: She is a French teacher. Bonnie has a daughter who speaks lucid French and works for the French Chamber of Commerce in Manhattan.

(Can't you just imagine those two getting together: "Fooey grass" and "petty fours" and all that.)

Normally I would say something like: "Here's a picture of Bonnie and me. I am the pretty one." (Oh, we've been through that, heh?)

Surprise to me, but Bonnie doesn't have formal training in the arts, which embellish her b**g page most frequently. She says "I just like it," so she buys books and studies it when she's not having babies. Bonnie is the most Mommy of any Mommy I know: She has 11 children, all of them born at home.

I ask you: Does this look like a woman who has had 11 children? (She's the one on the left).

(*In case any cops are reading this, I lied. I never went over 70.)

(*In case there are no cops reading this, I touched 85 briefly. They don't call me Speedy Muldoon for nothing.)

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My favorite word today is voting. N., voters do it in secret. Def.: A legal way to stick it to the minorities.

Short Shrift Saturday #32

To a dog, you're family; to a cat, you're staff.

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A note from Him to Her: "Your doctor called. Your Pabst beer is normal."

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I got this site meter that tells me when somebody gets to my b**g by searching for odd things. You know about it. Happens all the time. Latest one is "cunnulingus free sample." You will be happy to know that my site was not No. 1 for this search. It was No. 2.

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A guy walks into a pet store and says, "You gonna let those kittens go cheap?"

And the owner says, "They prefer to go 'meow'."

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My favorite word today is virus. N., now let's see here. Def.: A word used by your doctor that means "I haven't a clue."

Hoss's Prime (Cheap) Sandwidges

Well, Ol' Margaret (Stargazer) has found me out. There she was in Hanover, PA, and she discovered one of my get-rich-quick steak and seafood houses. I wasn't going to tell anybody, but now that she got this picture, here's the truth: I got me a chain of these dudes what is selling 79-cent sandwidges. At 79 cents a pop, I will have me a Pile in no time.

(Let's see: Wages, 44 cents; ingredients, 34 cents; taxes,6 cents; profit, um.... well, you can see I will be Making My Pile.)

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As long as we are talking about me, which is your favorite subject, here's something else. From Pointmeister I got this site that does instant reviews of your b**g. These reviews are so instant they don't make sense (except, of course, for the plaudits thrown my way):

"REVIEW OF OLD HORSETAIL SNAKE

"I just saw Old Horsetail Snake. There are 61,637 characters in the file, which is a splendid length for Opera users. The page contains 206 links, a superb amount. The document is very structured. It must have taken many years to fine-tune the page. Seeing Old Horsetail Snake, I'm simply stunned, completely stunned. Just perfect.

"Gee. If only the Opera Homepage would have a superb page like that. It makes sense to me that Outside In (Vicki) put up a link to this page. Naturally, I expected the creator (Se7en) to achieve only the best. What a cool page! The color scheme is fresh. The URL has 41 characters. That's just the right size. The best of the best."

So, okay, Se7en gets most of the credit. Still....

(If you want to get a rave notice like this, go to Google Blogoscoped and enter your URL.)

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My favorite phrase today is sixth sense. N., this is eerie. Def.: The ability to smell a rat.

A True Believing Atheist

Feelgood Haines: "Hoss, I see in your piece yesterday you said you is a atheist. Some of your readers asked whether that was indeed true, and I am jumpin' right in. Is that right? You is a no-believer?"

Hoss: "Uh, yeah, something like that."

Feelgood: "Ain't you a pistol? So you don't believe in God or Angels or Satan or Tooth Fairies?"

Hoss: "Well, I think maybe the Tooth Fairy is real. And, of course, when I do a good deed I always get a receipt -- in case heaven is like the IRS."

Feelgood: "How about that, Heaven and Hell?"

Hoss: "Pretty fictional, Feelgood. I think heaven and hell is what we live right here on the ground. I could never cotton much to the idea of some invisible honcho keepin' book on me somewhere. And who said St. Pete could be the guardian to Heaven? How come it isn't Mother Teresa?"

Feelgood: "Streets of Gold? Heavenly Hosts? Mt. Ararat? Arafat? Any of those?"

Hoss: "No. Well, Arafat is busy turning into dust. Say, Feelgood, you ever see that bumper sticker that says 'Jesus loves you; everyone else thinks you're an asshole?'"

Feelgood: "I feel sorry for you Hoss."

Hoss: "Why's that?"

Feelgood: "The Jehovah's Witnesses will be all over you like a tall dog. You ain't never gonna get no peace. And, hell, if they ever give up on you, some of those Mormons gonna jump your bones. Poor bastard. What if you die?"

Hoss: "I got that covered."

Feelgood: "Covered?"

Hoss: "Yeah. I ain't plannin' on dying."

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My favorite word today is God. N., hello, Big Ernie. Def.: A comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh. --Voltaire.

This Is About King Tut

I swear it is. About King Tut. Really. Truly.

Here's an honest-to-goodness news clip:

"Yellow-green glass carved into a beetle-shaped ornament and found on a necklace worn by King Tut was created by a meteorite fireball.

"The carving is known as a scarab, which are ancient Egyptian fertility symbols, SHAPED LIKE DUNG BEETLES."

Hoo boy, is Hoss ever getting classy. King Tut and I. Boy howdy!

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Okay, so this b**g is about dung beetles. I give great thankees to Tisha for giving me these pictures. Of course, she had to, knowing how much I like manure dung beetles.

These pix she got at the Fort Worth TX zoo, where she and her family were idling while Uncle Bronc was getting his insides re-done (you don't want to know).

Anyway, King Tut and the dung beetles are A-OK, just like me.

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My favorite word today is atheist. N., sorry, Big Ernie. Def.: Me, who lacks invisible support.

Feelgood Explains the Fourth of July

We were having a nice nod-off in the Fireplace Room when Feelgood Haines thundered in.

Feelgood: "Hoss! I am so glad I caught you here. I am about to explain to this assemblage of personal people what is not much known about the Fourth of July. For instance, did you know our people were hacked at King George because he wouldn't let people emigrate to the US of A? Ain't that a burner, huh?"

Hoss: "Uh...snurfle...em...."

Feelgood: "Get up, Hoss. This is important. See, we used to be in favor of immigration. Now we're against it. Does the Supreme Court know about this?"

Hoss: "Put a lid on it, Feelgood."

Feelgood: "Now that I got your attention, get this from the Declaration of Independence, Missouri:

"He (King George III) has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages..."

Feelgood: "See, them redskins used to take scalps, which was no good. But now they're taking our dough in their damn casinos. Which is also no good. I think scientists would say this is 'too bad'."

Hoss: "Scientists, huh?"

Feelgood: "Are you listening? We are celebrating the 230th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence by Button Gwinnett. Wouldn't you like to have a name like that? Button. Boy howdy."

Hoss: "I'm not sure they signed on July the Fourth."

Feelgood: "Well, a course they dint. In fact, when they voted on it, Pennsylvania and South Caroline voted NO. You dint know that did ya, you old sonofabitch? No, you dint, no fakin' with me. That's prolly why Pennsylvania has all those liquor blue laws."

Hoss: "I DO know that one guy didn't even sign until 1781. He was thinking it over."

Feelgood: "Well, anyway, we got this song that's associated with the Fourth of July stuff, that's called 'Battle Hymn of the Republic'. And in there is this line: 'As ye deal with my contemners...' Holy dung beetles, Hoss, you ever see that word before? Nevertheless, let me polish this off with a quote from Ol' Tom Jefferson, who wrote this on declining an appearance at the 50th anniversary of independence:

'For ourselves, let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollection of these rights [of men], and an undiminished devotion to them.'"

Feelgood: "Ta ra ra, boom de ay. That's how cherry bombs sound. Devoted cherry bombs."

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My favorite word today is contemner. Adj., ain't that a bitch? Def.: To treat with contempt; viz., a Simon Legree sneer.

I Am So Pretty. I Also Am Perfect.

Hoo boy! Ol' Hoss is perfect!

Well, you knew that.

Here's what happened: Momma K tries to get people to recognize other b**ggers by awarding them a "Perfect Post" button for b**gging above and below the call of duty. We nominators are sent a code for the Perfect Post button that we can send to b**ggers of our choice.

I wasn't sure I had the code right, so I put it in my own template as a test. Sure enough, it came up. AND THEN I FORGOT TO REMOVE IT.

Hah! It was amazing foresight on my part: Mother Pie (a.k.a. Hattie Page) nominated me for having done a Perfect Post. So now I am legal. (You scroll down a little, on top of my b**groll, and you can see my little Perfect Post button.) I am so pretty.

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Oh, you want to know which of my June masterpieces got selected for this award. All of them were prizewinners, of course. The one that was choosed out, though, was this guy. Where I preach to the choir, or maybe to the high school gradates. Something.

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You wanna see people falling down? Go here, where they do it with abandon.

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Over at Melissa's place you can find a whole bunch of things her mother taught her, such as:

My mother taught me RELIGION. "You better pray that will come out of the carpet."

My mother taught me ANTICIPATION. "Just wait till we get home."

Go visit to see a lot more bon mots. (Homilies?)

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My favorite phrase today is perfect lover. N., how sweet and sour he is. Def.: Someone who turns into a pizza at 4 a.m. --George Pierce.

Short Shrift Saturday #31

Ya'll know what my sister
Tan Lucy Pez says: You say "Rabbit! Rabbit!" at the first of each month, and you will have good luck the whole month long. Then, just to be evil, you put up a picture of a rabbit (or two) on your site.

I don't know if these count as real rabbits, but they're randy enough for me.

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The blonde walks up to the librarian and asks, "How do you spell 'tequila'?" So the librarian obliges, and the blonde leaves.

Pretty soon, the blonde is back. "I still can't find it," she says.

The librarian says, "Find what?"

"Tequila Mockingbird."

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Signs of the times?

In a Rumanian hotel elevator: "The lift is being fixed for the next few days. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable."

In a Copenhagen ticket office: "We take your baggage and send it in all directions."

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It was 102 degrees in Salem, OR, last Monday. This is called global warm enough.

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My favorite word today is au one. N., half a nanny. Def.: When the au pair won't do windows.

Perfection Comes in See-Through Pants

Tomorrow is Saturday, so the owners of the Perfect Post Syndrome insist that the awards be made today, which I am happy to do because I do not like being hit upside the head with a fresh fish.

Ya'll know what a Perfect Post is: It's one of those that edifies, titilates or is just plain superflagilisticexpealidocious. My award, for embarrassing herself beyond belief, goes to Julie for her post of June 1 in which she admits to showing off -- showing off her buttcrack. Go give it a read. I guarantee you a good time will be had by all -- except for Julie.

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I swiped this cartoon from Plutos the Bubblemans. It came with this tagline: "So Carlos wanders right into the middle of the Hippos migration path and scores the big fat one."

See, Pluto knows about my affinity for dung beetles, and he did this cartoon in my honor. Thanks, Simon. (Also go visit this guy; he is a whiz cartoonist.)

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"Smoking kills. If you're killed you've lost a very important part of your life." --Brooke Shields.

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Isaac Newton on why chickens cross the road: "Chickens at rest tend to stay at rest; chickens in motion tend to cross roads."

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So, O'Connell is staggering home with a pint in his back pocket, when he trips and falls heavily. He feels something wet going down his leg.

"Please, God," he says. "Let it be blood."

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If we aren't supposed to eat animals, why are they made of meat?

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My favorite word today is diplomat. N., a freak of nature. Def.: A man who can convince his wife that she would look fat in a fur coat.

For He Was a Jolly Good Fellow

A man is waiting for his wife to give birth. The doctor comes in and informs the dad that his son was born without torso, arms or legs. The son is just a head!

But the dad loves his son and tends to him with love and compassion. After 21 years the son is old enough for his first drink, so dad takes him to the bar. Dad orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar patrons looking on curiously and the bartender shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of alcohol. Swoop! A torso pops out!

The bar is dead silent, then bursts into whoops of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant "Take another drink!" Swoop! Two arms pop out! The crowd chants again, "Take another drink!" By now the boy is getting tipsy, but he obliges, guzzling the last of the drink. Swoop! Two legs pop out!

The bar is in chaos. The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks Big Ernie. The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left....then to the right...right through the front door, into the street, where a truck runs over him and kills him instantly.

The bar falls silent. The father moans in grief. The bartender sighs and says, "That boy should have quit when he was a head."

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My favorite word today is lottery. N., get poor quick schemes. Def.: A tax on people who are bad at math.

Did Cavemen Really Live in Caves?*

Lame joke:

Question: What's the difference between a rabbit and a hare?

Answer: You can't trim your nose rabbit.

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Lamer joke:

First boy: "Golly, you know my Dad works 12 hours a day to give us a nice home and good food to eat? And Mom slaves away all day cooking and cleaning and sewing? Now I'm worried."

Second boy: "Why is that?"

First boy: "What if they try to escape?"

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Back when I was going to church, I could never quite get a handle on "The Trinity." This is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost (or Spirit, in some denominations). Now, it appears, neither can the Presbyterian Church.

In a new paper stressing theological imagination, the church appears ready to go all non-gender on us. The new trinity, it suggests, ought to be called "Rainbow, Ark and Dove," or "Giver, Gift and Giving," or "Lover, Beloved and Love," or "Fire That Consumes, Sword That Divides and Storm That Melts Mountains."

But this is the best one: "Compassionate Mother, Beloved Child and Live-Giving Womb."

Dear Mrs. God, Hallowed be thy name...

And what the hell is a "Holy Spirit," anyway? Is that 80 proof, or 100?

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My favorite word today is cynic. N., no, never. Def.: One who smells flowers and suspects he is in a funeral home.

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(*This is just a headline. It doesn't have anything to do with the material here.)

Things That I Didn't Know Before

I got this idea for a meme from Ladybug.

Appetizer: On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 being highest) how funny do you think you are?

Answer: 1 to 10. Oh, no way. They don't got numbers for my kind of humor. Let's see, the last time I was funny was B**g No. 84. I would reprint it here, but it wasn't that funny. Now my pal Lois Lane, now she's funny. Like a one-armed paper hanger with the itch.

Soup: Name a local restaurant you would recommend to visitors.

Answer: McDonald's? No, wait, that's not so local. I think you get the best bang for the buck by going to a Mom and Pop restaurant, where you can get three eggs, sausage, a pile of home fries, and great coffee. We don't have any of those.

Salad: What's a lesson you were lucky enough to learn as a young child?

Answer: Do unto others before they can do unto you. Hit the other guy when he's not ready. A bird in the hand gathers no moss. I got a lot of lessons like these. All good.

Main Course: Where would you like to be 5 years from now?

Answer: Hoo boy. See, this depends upon whether I am alive or not. If I am alive, I think I would like to be polishing off my 2,500th b**g in my continuing effort to get one that's funny. If I am dead, I would like to be reincarnated in time to polish off my 2,500th b**g in my continuing effort to get one that's funny.

Dessert: If you could see the front page of a newspaper 10 years from now, what would the main headline be?

Answer: Reincarnation Real, Hoss Says. ("In a blow to science, the reincarnated Old Horsetail Snake held his first press conference today. 'Crossing over from live to dead and back to live was really kind of funny, sort of like a Lois Lane b**g,' Ol' Hoss declared.")

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My favorite phrase today is raw sewage. N., from the old dumping grounds. Def.: What it is before you cook it.

The Flowers That Bloom in the Summer

In case you can't read the sign, you CAN make it bigger, you know.

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Speaking of tantrums, check this out. It has a surprise ending, which is the best kind.

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Haven't had your fill of immigration stories? How about "reverse immigration" stories? Like this.

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This gymnastics routine is provided for my buddy, Teacher Woman, whose daughter is in YMCA Gymnastics Nationals.

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What hacks me off is that most immigrants don't bother to learn our language. Which is English and French and German and Latin and various other assorted Serbians. For instance, how many wetbacks drybacks newcomers know about onomatopoeia?

And how many can even spell "mnemonic" when they hear it? (How many of YOU can spell it, for that matter?) And as for the definition -- ROY G BIV*.

And also, et cetera, ad infinitum, o sole mio, can they (you) define "gullible"?

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My favorite word today is gullible. Adj., sounds funny when you say it three or four times. Def.: The Brooklyn Bridge is finally sold.

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(Red Orange Yellow Green Blue Indigo Violet. I love rainbows.)

Short Shrift Saturday #30

At one time in my life, I thought I had a handle on the meaning of the word "service". It can be defined as "The act of doing things for other people."

Then we came across these terms which use "service":

Internal Revenue Service
Postal Service
Telephone Service
Civil Service
Customer Service
Service Stations

Hah! Service Stations my butt. I know better.

And so it was no surprise, really, when I overheard some farmers talking. One of them said he had paid a stud fee to have a bull "service" a few of his cows.

So it has all come into focus. We now know what those "service" agencies are doing to us. I don't suppose you feel any better.

(This little tale was handed to me by Judy, known to you as kenju.)

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Thomas Jefferson: "The natural order of things is for liberty to yield and government to gain ground."

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My favorite word today is beer. N., for he's a jolly good fellow. Def.: Propellant of conversation.

Just Call Me Jean

I have given a lot of thought to this b**g -- 30 or 40 seconds, minimum. See, it is a subject that sorely troubles Ol' Hoss: Why aren't there any girls named Bill?

I guess we can go pretty far back to find out that William nee Bill was a name given at one time to one child. What I mean is, there had to have been a No. 1 William because not every Mom and Dad named their kid William all at once. No, there was a No. 1 William, who instantly became Bill. Bill Shakespeare.

Makes sense, doesn't it? But how about this: Who was the No. 1 Kerry? And was it a boy or a girl? Same for Kelly, Carey and Beverly. And Shirley. Boys, or girls?

So, really, what I am wondering is, who came up with the idea that some names are for boys and some names are for girls? Think of this: Francis is a boy, but Frances is a girl. In France, Jean is a boy but in London Jean is a girl. My forebears started out in France, then moved to England. So I am Jean Gene? And my real first name? Lowell. Why can't girls be Lowell, since it's only a city in Massachusetts? Why can't boys be Shannon, since it's only a city in Ireland?

Why can't I get any of the pregnant ladies to name their kid Benjamin? There's this babe up in Canada who is going to name her offspring "Zoe Alexis". Horseshit. What's wrong with Benjamin?

Did the Neandertals give their kids names? Ooga, Oona and Hamfat -- boys or girls, take yer pick. God, I love that: Hamfat Gooch, source of every boy's DNA.

Monk was a boy. I never want to see no girl wandering around saying, "Hi, I'm Monk."

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My favorite word today is civilization. N., ever advancing. Def.: Figuring out new ways to kill people.

How to Get to Be Red in the Neck

You know you're a redneck when:

You take your dog for a walk and you use the same tree.

Your boat has not left the driveway for 15 years.

You think "The Nutcracker" is something you do off the high dive.

You have the local taxidermist on speed dial.

You come back from the dump with more than you took.

Your grandmother has "ammo" on her Christmas list.

You keep flea and tick soap in the shower.

You've been involved in a custody fight over a hunting dog.

You know how many bales of hay your car will hold.

You have a rag for a gas cap.

You consider your license plate personalized because your father made it.

Your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand.

Your llama breeding isn't exactly working out.

You have a complete set of salad bowls that say "Cool Whip" on the side.

Your working TV sits on top of your non-working TV.

A tornado hits your neighborhood and does $100,000 worth of improvements.

You missed your 5th grade graduation because you were on jury duty.

You've used your ironing board as a buffet table.

You think fast food is hitting a deer at 65.

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My favorite phrase today is rack of lamb. N., like a rack of antlers. Def.: Same as a school of fish.

Will You Love Me When I'm GaGa?

This is what happens when Catholic drivers put the pedal to the metal.

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Gen-you-ine news-
paper headline: "Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over"

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Well, I guess it's no secret that I am a fan of dung beetles. And you should be, too. I just read a story that said cattle ranchers save $380 million a year because beetles carry off the poo.

To say nothing of meerkats. See, according to this video, dung beetles are the resident maid service for meerkats, which are very lovable, as you know.

Moral of the story: Take a dung beetle to lunch.

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A nifty quote from Tan Lucy Pez: "You'll always be my Dad. That's one thing the casinos can't take away from me."

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Here's a funny that I stole from Raggedy. It is Frank Caliend, doing a number on Dubya.

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My favorite phrase today is end of the world. N., I've been reading Revelations again. Def.: What today's TV shows make you hope for.

Father Knows Best

A boy is nervous about his first date, for he doesn't know what to talk about. He asks his father for advice.

"My son, there are three subjects that always work," he said. "These are food, family and philosophy."

So the boy collects his date and they go to a soda fountain. They stare at each other for a long time, so finally the boy gets up his nerve.

He says, "Do you like spinach?" She says, "No." And the silence returns.

Finally the boy tries the second point raised by his father. "Do you have any brothers?", he asks. Again, the girl says, "No." The silence returns.

Finally, the boy plays his last card. Thinking of his father's advice he asks, "If you had a brother would he like spinach?"

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From Indy's Mom: "Every crow thinks his is the blackest."

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My favorite word today is mirrors. N., this is hard to believe. Def.: They can't talk and they still lie.

You Want Two Bloods and a Blood Light?

This is from Lois Lane:

On a hot day in Minnesota, Helga hung the wash out to dry, put a roast in the oven, then went downtown to pick up some dry cleaning.

"Gootness, it's hodt," she mused to herself as she walked down Main Street.

She was passing by a tavern and thought, "Vy nodt?", so she walked in a took a seat at the bar. The bartender came up and asked her what she would like to drink.

"Ya know," Helga said, "it is so hodt I tink I'll have myself zee cold beer."

The bartender asked, "Anheuser Busch?"

Helga blushed a little, but replied, "Vell fine, tanks, und how's yer pecker?"

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And this is from Marti:

A neighbor found out her dog could hardly hear so she took it to the vet. He found the problem was hair in its ears, so he cleaned it out and the dog could hear fine. The vet told the lady if she wanted to keep this from reoccuring she should go to the store and get some "Nair," and rub it in the dog's ears once a month.

So she goes into the drug store, and as she is getting the Nair rung up, the druggist says, "If you're going to use this under your arms, don't use deodorant for a few days."

The lady says, "I'm not using it under my arms."

The druggist says, "If you're using this on your legs, don't shave for a couple of days."

The lady says, "I'm not using it on my legs. If you must know, I'm using it on my schnauzer."

The druggist says, "Stay off your bicycle for a week."

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My favorite word today is charity. N., this will hurt me more than it helps you. Def.: Taking Cinderella's ugly sisters to lunch.