D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
October
2008
Alligator Shoes, Burial at Sea and Work vs. Prison
Plus beach bums, hot-chocolate wisdom and
why you shouldn't aggravate a fairy.
Kids say the darnedest things. . . We start off this month with a tale of what happens when you're "hooked on phonics," courtesy of Karin in Hurley:
"A class of five-year-old students was learning to read. One of them pointed
at a picture in a zoo book and said, 'Look at this! It's a frickin' elephant!'
"Their teacher took a deep breath, then asked, 'What did you call it?'
"'It's a frickin' elephant! It says so on the picture!'
And so it did: 'A f r i
c a n Elephant.'"
Fashion statements. . . Speaking of wild animals, this yarn of footwear and zoology comes our way from CC in Cruces:
"A young lady was visiting a small Louisiana town and, of course, shopping.
She found a pair of alligator skin shoes and a matching purse that she really
liked, but the price was too high. After no luck at haggling with the shop
owner, she angrily left declaring she would just go to the swamp and get
them there.
"At the close of day the shop owner closed up and headed home. On his way
he looked into the swamp and saw the lady up to her butt in swamp water with
a nine-foot alligator rapidly approaching her. He stopped and jumped out
to see if he could help her. Just then she raised a rifle and shot the alligator
several times, and hauled it to the shore.
"To his amazement, she then deftly flipped the alligator on its back alongside
six other dead ones, all on their backs. She then began to cuss like a sailor
and ended the tirade with, 'Damn! Another barefoot male!'"
Losing the battle of the sexes. . . If you thought non-living things don't have gender — except in, say, Spanish grammar — Geerichard begs to differ:
"Ziploc bags are male because they hold everything in and you can see right
through them.
"Photocopiers are female because, once turned off, it takes a while to warm
them up again. They are effective reproductive devices if the right buttons
are pushed, but can wreak havoc if the wrong buttons are pushed.
"Tires are male because they go bad when overinflated.
"Hot-air balloons are male because to get one to go anywhere, you have to
light a fire under it, and then there's the hot air part.
"Sponges are female because they are soft, squeezable and retain water.
"Web pages are female because they are always getting hit on.
"Subway systems are male because they use the same old lines to pick people
up.
"An hourglass is female because, over time, the weight shifts to the bottom.
"A hammer is male because it hasn't changed much over the last 5,000 years
but is handy to have around.
"Remote controls are female. Bet you thought they were male! But consider
this: It gives a man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and when he doesn't
know the right buttons to push, he keeps on trying."
Share your gender assignments, jokes, anecdotes and other yarns with Desert Diary at PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4154 or email diary@desertexposure.com.
Persons of the blonde persuasion. . . We pass along this funny from JackB with our usual invitation to substitute the hair color of your choice herein:
"Bubbles and Barbie, two blonde sisters, had promised their uncle, who had
been a seafaring gentleman all his life, to bury him at sea when he died.
Of course, in due time, he did pass away and the two blondes kept their promise.
They set off with their uncle all stitched up in a burial bag and loaded
onto their rowboat.
"After a while, Bubbles said, 'Do you think we're out far enough, Barbie?'
"Barbie slipped over the side and, finding the water only knee deep, said,
'Nope, not yet, Bubbles.' So they rowed a little farther.
"Again Bubbles asked Barbie, 'Do you think we're out far enough now?' Once
again Barbie slipped over the side and almost immediately said, 'No, this
will never do, the water is only up to my chest.'
"So on they rowed on and on, and finally Barbie slipped over the side again;
this time she disappeared. Quite a bit of time went by and poor Bubbles was
really getting worried, when suddenly Barbie broke the surface, gasping for
breath.
"'Well, is it deep enough yet, Sis?' Bubbles asked.
"'Yes, finally! Hand me the shovel.'"
The world of work. . . Just in case you ever get these two environments mixed up, this comparison thoughtfully supplied by Gypsy Ed should make things a little bit clearer:
"In prison, you spend most of your time in a 10-by-10 cell. At work, you
spend most of your time in a 6-by-6 cubicle.
"In prison, you get three fully paid-for meals a day. At work, you get a
break for one meal, and you have to pay for it.
"In prison, for good behavior, you get time off. At work, for good behavior,
you get more work.
"In prison, the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you. At work,
you must carry a security card and open all the doors yourself.
"In prison, you can watch TV and play games. At work, you could get fired
for watching TV and playing games.
"In prison, you get your own toilet. At work, you have to share the toilet
with people who pee on the seat.
"In prison, they allow your family and friends to visit. At work, you aren't
even supposed to speak to your family.
"In prison, all expenses are paid by the taxpayers with no work required
on your part. At work, you must pay all your expenses to go to work, and
they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners.
"In prison, you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out.
At work, you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars.
"In prison, you must deal with sadistic wardens. At work, they are called
'managers.'"
Working hard or hardly working? Either way, share your creative comparisons, jokes, puns and whatnot with Desert Diary at PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4154 or email diary@desertexposure.com.
A rose by any other name . . . With apologies to all our hillbilly readers, we pass along this yarn from Barclay:
"Billy Bob's pregnant sister is in a terrible car accident and goes into
a deep coma. After being in the coma for nearly six months, she wakes up
and sees that she is no longer pregnant. Frantically, she asks the doctor
about her baby. The doctor replies, 'Ma'am, you had twins! A boy and a girl.
The babies are fine and your brother came in and named them.'
"The woman thinks to herself, 'Oh no, not my brother — he's an idiot!'
Expecting the worst, she asks the doctor, 'Well, what's the girl's name?'
"'Denise,' says the doctor.
"The new mother says, 'Wow, that's a beautiful name! I guess I was wrong
about my brother. I like Denise.' Then she asks, 'What's the boy's name?'
"'Denephew.'
Freudian slippage. . . The easily offended might want to avert their eyes from the salubrious details in this yarn from Ned Ludd:
"A guy goes to the supermarket and notices an attractive woman waving at
him. She says hello. He's rather taken aback because he can't place where
he knows her from. So he says, 'Do you know me?'
"To which she replies, 'I think you're the father of one of my kids.'
"Now his mind travels back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful
to his wife and he says, 'My God, are you the stripper from my bachelor party
that I made love to on the pool table with all my buddies watching while
your partner whipped my butt with wet celery?'
"She
looks into his eyes and says calmly, 'No, I'm your son's teacher.'"
Kids say the darnedest things, II . . . We couldn't resist this quick
revisit of our opening category, sent along by Old Grumps:
"A little boy opened the big family Bible. He was fascinated as he
fingered through the old pages. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible.
He picked up the object and looked at it. What he saw was an old leaf that
had been pressed in between the pages.
"'Mama, look what I found!' the boy called out.
"'What have you got there, dear?' his mother responded.
"With astonishment in the young boy's voice, he answered, 'I think
it's Adam's underwear!'"
Pondering the imponderables. . . On a more serious note, this life
lesson from Two Beeps will forever change the way you look at hot chocolate:
"A group of graduates, well established in their careers, were talking
at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now
retired. During their visit, the conversation turned to complaints about
stress in their work and lives. Offering his guests refreshments, the professor
went into the kitchen and returned with a large pot of hot chocolate and
an assortment of cups — porcelain, glass, crystal, some plain looking,
some expensive, some exquisite — telling them to help themselves to
the hot chocolate.
"When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said:
'Notice that all the nice-looking, expensive cups were taken, leaving behind
the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best
for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup that
you're drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In
most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we
drink. What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup. But
you consciously went for the best cups, and then you began eyeing each other's
cups.
"'Now consider this: Life is the hot chocolate; your job, money and
position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain
life. The cup you have does not define, nor change the quality of life you
have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot
chocolate God has provided us. God makes the hot chocolate, man chooses the
cups.
"'The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just
make the best of everything that they have.'"
You're only as old as you feel. . . While we're on the subject of God,
He also makes an appearance in this tale from Toni in the Vet's Office:
"A 54-year-old woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital.
While on the operating table, she had a near-death experience. Seeing God,
she asked, 'Is my time up?'
"God said, 'No, you have another 43 years, 2 months and 8 days to live.'
"Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have
a face-lift, liposuction, breast implants and a tummy tuck. She even had
someone come in and change her hair color and brighten her teeth. Since she
had so much more time to live, she figured she might as well make the most
of it.
"After her last operation, she was released from the hospital. While
crossing the street on her way home, she was killed by an ambulance. Arriving
in front of God, she demanded, 'I thought you said I had another 43 years-plus?
Why didn't you pull me from out of the path of the ambulance?'
"God replied, 'I didn't recognize you.'"
Losing the battle of the sexes, II . . . Finally, we return to the
front lines of the gender wars with this surprising little fable from Jess
Hossinaround in Arenas Valley. Fellas, please pay attention:
"A married couple in their early 60s was celebrating their 40th wedding
anniversary in a quiet, romantic little restaurant. Suddenly, a tiny yet
beautiful fairy appeared on their table. She said, 'For being such an exemplary
married couple and for being loving to each other for all this time, I will
grant you each a wish.'
"The wife answered, 'Oh, I want to travel around the world with my
darling husband.' The fairy waved her magic wand and — poof! — two
tickets for the Queen Mary II appeared in her hands.
"The husband thought for a moment, then said, 'Well, this is all very
romantic, but an opportunity like this will never come again. I'm sorry,
my love, but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me.'
"The wife and the fairy were deeply disappointed, but a wish is a wish.
So the fairy waved her magic wand and — poof! — the husband became
92 years old.
"The moral of this story: Men who are ungrateful bastards should remember
fairies are female."
Send your favorite jokes, puns and ponderings to: Desert Diary, PO Box 191,
Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com Remember,
the best submission each month gets a highly collectible Desert Exposure coffee
mug — while they last!
Postcards from the edge. . . We depart temporarily from our ongoing
presentation of photos sent in by readers holding their favorite publication
(ahem, that would be Desert Exposure) to share two special snapshots
from the recent Maui Writers Retreat and Conference, which this year was held
in Honolulu. (It's a long story.)
The first, above, shows Desert Exposure editor and retreat director David
Fryxell taking a brief break — honest, it was work, work, work! — on
Waikiki Beach, with Diamondhead in the background.
The second, below, shows authors Thomas Cook (left) and William
Martin with "the biggest little paper in the Southwest." Presumably
they like to relax with the latest Desert Exposure in-between crafting
such bestselling novels as Master of the Delta (Cook) and The Lost
Constitution (Martin).
Bestselling author or beach bum, take us with you on your next trip and send
home a snapshot of yourself holding Desert Exposure. Send to Desert
Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, or by email to diary@desertexposure.com
You're on page 1
1 | 2 | ALL
Return to Top of Page