Humor Columnist Blog

Get Out of Dodge

Posted on November 5, 2022 by Sheila Moss

Usually I try ti stick to humor, but once in a while, I have to have my say. Agree or disagree if you want. I know there are many who think otherwise, but for Pete’s sake, people, it’s time to use a little common sense.

Sometimes I have to wonder about people and why they make the choices that they do. Oklahoma is not only in tornado alley, it is the bull’s eye for storms. For some reason people continue to choose to live there and dodge tornadoes like bullets, hoping that Mother Nature will be a bad shot. They are “used to tornadoes.” How can you get “used” to a tornado?

I don’t get it.

“We know other people who have been hit, and this time it was our turn,” says one woman, with resolve, as if there is no opportunity to do anything else but sit in harm’s way with your fingers crossed and hope statistics don’t catch up with you. Some people are hit not only in one devastating tornado, but are hit again later. I think I would give up on the laws of probability and take matters into my own hands.

Most people say they don’t know how they survived. “I hid in the closet, in the bathtub, or in the hall under a mattress. I was lucky. God must have winked and let me survive.” So, what if God doesn’t wink next time? Should people continue to depend on God winking, or does God expect people to take some responsibility for their own safety?

I don’t get it.

Oklahoma people are resilient, they say on the news. In a year it will all be rebuilt. People in Oklahoma come from hardy stock. They are cowboys, oil workers, people whose ancestors claimed the land in land races. It will all be rebuilt with the help of the taxpayers and the insurance companies. It will rise from the debris in plenty of time for the next big one.

A few more people will build storm cellars or concrete bunkers to hide from the storms. Regular wood, plywood, and particle board cannot possibly stand up against 200 mph winds with the force of a mega bomb. Houses can be reinforced with steel and made somewhat more resistant, but they are still only wood.

The only thing that can withstand a force like that is a home built like a bomb shelter with reinforced concrete walls and roof. Not very attractive or practical and probably very expensive, but maybe it is time to consider something other than conventional wood homes if people must live where it is only a matter of time.

People do not like to relocate. They are tied to a geographical area by jobs, friends, family, and community. Is Oklahoma really that great, or just what is familiar? It seems to me when everything familiar is gone would be the best time to throw in the towel and go elsewhere.

Most tornadoes happen in what is called “tornado alley,” the plains between the Rockies and the Appalachians, where the land is flat and where moist air from the Gulf and cold air from the north meet. The two fronts collide and begin to spin as hot air rises. Then the spin becomes vertical and a tornado is born.

Granted, no place is totally immune from natural disasters, whether it is tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, fires or floods. But it seems better to play Russian roulette where there are fewer bullets in the chamber.

The changes of being hit are greater than ever. Most tornadoes are small, not the large super-cell type. Only a few usually achieve that status. However, we know that storms are becoming bigger and more frequent due to global warming.

I don’t get it. I will never get it.

All I can say is it is time to get out of Dodge while Mother Nature is still blowing the smoke out of her pistol.

Posted in Rants, Weather | Tagged Global warming, Naural Disasters, Oklahoma, Storms, Tornado alley, Tornadoes | Leave a comment

The Giant-Sized Pumpkin

Posted on October 26, 2022 by Sheila Moss

My granddaughter was visiting and, as usual, moping around that she had nothing to do. Since computers came along, kids have the idea that they should be entertained 24/7, but even computer games become boring after a while.

Kids need activities to keep them occupied. “Why don’t you ask your dad to take you to the pumpkin farm?” The pumpkin farm is not too far from where I live and has all sorts of things for kids to do, like a petting zoo, a corn maze, hayrides and, of course, all sizes of pumpkins.

Apparently, she took me up on the suggestion as I later noticed a giant-size pumpkin on the patio. The rule when I took my kids to get pumpkins was that they must be able to pick up and carry the pumpkin to the car. This was a handy rule as I had three kids and two hands. It also kept the size of the pumpkins under control. The rule has obviously passed into oblivion as this gourd was so large I don’t know how my son got it into his truck without a ramp.

The pumpkin sat on the patio for about a week undisturbed. I wasn’t sure what the plan was, so I ignored the large orange orb and waited. When my granddaughter came the following weekend, I asked her what she planned to do with the pumpkin. “Dad and I are going to make a jack-o’-lantern,” she proclaimed.

I later noticed a bowl of pumpkin seeds on the kitchen counter. Then I discovered the pumpkin in the garage, minus the insides. I guess they ran out of steam before they finished and so the half-carved jack-o’-lantern spent the night on the garage floor.

The next day I spied my grandchild carrying the over-sized pumpkin across the patio. Now it had a face. I don’t know how she was able to lift it. Maybe it was lighter without the messy stuff inside or maybe where there is a will there is a way.

The large fruit was very fanciful, much more so than the ones I used to make with triangles for eyes and nose. Granddaughter said she picked out the design on the internet and the pumpkin was exactly like the picture. My son carved the entire thing by hand, which must have been difficult as the bigger the pumpkin, the tougher its skin.

I saw an article on the internet that said the easy way to carve a pumpkin is with an electric jigsaw. You can also use a drill to make holes and create fanciful designs. However, I didn’t get a chance to pass this information along. Doing it the old-fashioned way is probably more fun anyhow.

After the child left, I brought the pumpkin inside and dipped it in bleach water, which is supposed to help prevent mold and fungus and make it last longer. I found that little tip in the same article where I found out about using power tools.

I decided to keep the jack-o’-lantern in the house where it is cooler until she comes back to visit again. After all the work, I would hate for it to rot before she has a chance to enjoy it. So, the orange sculpture is on my kitchen table grinning away. It has a small orange light inside. I guess putting candles in them also went out of fashion while I was not watching, just like triangle-shaped eyes.

The next weekend there were two pumpkins on the patio, the second remarkably similar to the first, obviously copied from the same picture.

“Where did the new pumpkin come from?”

“My other grandmother’s house!”

I may soon have an entire pumpkin farm on my patio. That’s okay, though, since my grandchild is smiling too, just like the pumpkin.

Posted in Crafts/Hobbies, Family, Holidays, Humor | Tagged Carving pumpkins, children, Grandchild, Halloween, Jack-o'-lantern, Pumpkin patch | Leave a comment

A Cancelled Flight

Posted on October 20, 2022 by Sheila Moss

Out of the thousands of airplane flights each day, most go right but a few go wrong. We seldom praise an airline for doing what they are supposed to do, but we never forget to complain when the flight goes wrong. Almost everyone who flies sooner or later has a story to tell. Here’s mine.

We arrive at the airport, boarding passes in hand, only to find our flight has been cancelled. We had been on vacation in New England and were ready to go home. Not to worry, United Air changed us to Delta. I hate Delta’s self-service kiosks and small, crowded planes without enough room for luggage. I try to avoid them.

The ticket agent had booked us for the last two seats available. How lucky can you get? Not very, as Delta somehow ticketed us to Las Vegas instead of Nashville. Thank goodness, we noticed the tickets were wrong and returned to the Delta service counter.

While the baggage handler made a mad dash to retrieve our checked luggage before it took a trip to Las Vegas without us, we tried to get tickets to the right place. As luck would have it, the final two seats were now gone and there were no more flights to Nashville until tomorrow.

I’ve seen this movie, people spending the night in the airport sleeping on suitcases. No, thanks.

“If you can get to Boston,” says the Delta manager who magically appeared from somewhere to straighten out the mess, “We can get you on a flight from there.”

Boston? Might as well be the moon. We do not know the area, will have to rent a car, figure out our way there during rush hour, all before our flight leaves. It isn’t happening. I’d rather spend the night in the airport than be lost on the freeway looking for Boston.

Clicking her computer, the manager said we could fly to Boston for a mere $40 each on a connector flight. I didn’t want to spend the money, but at least we would not be lost in Boston in the fog and rain. Did I forget to mention it was raining?

“Okay, let’s do it!” I said.

However, there were apparently no seats available on the commuter flight either. By now I am sitting on the baggage counter with my luggage, watching other customers check in and rush off to the security gate. I wondered if they were all going to Las Vegas.

I hate Delta.

“I think they have forgotten us,” I murmur, as computer keys click, and airport staff ignore us.

Eventually, the magic fairy god-manager returns. “This is not policy,” she says, “but I’ve made arrangements to get you to Boston by ground transport. Take this voucher and go to the taxi stand.

I knew it! She has turned a pumpkin into a taxi! I hope this isn’t their way of getting rid of us, I think, as we pull luggage around in the rain and look for a pumpkin.

The taxi driver found us. “Are you the couple I’m taking to Boston?” he asks. So, we are chauffeured in a courtesy car for the hour-long drive to Boston.

I love Delta.

The driver droped us at the door of Logan International Airport. At the ticket counter, they figured out an itinerary and fretted because we were somehow double charged for luggage, probably due to the Las Vegas fiasco. They decide to write off luggage charges.

I love Delta.

Going through security, I got a pat down when I set off the security alarm. The body scanner was on the blink, and they were doing things the old-fashioned way. I guess they thought I was a terrorist instead of an old lady with knee impants. Where was my fairy god-manager when I needed her to turn some security officers into mice?

However, we had plenty of time. The plane was late, delayed by weather and circling the airport for the third time. We were flying through Detroit to get a flight to Nashville. If we missed the Detroit connection, we would be stranded again. Maybe we should have gone to Vegas.

Detroit Metro was a bland, no-nonsense sort of airport. We barely made our connection and finally flew home to Nashville.

Did I mention… I love Delta!

Posted in Humor, Travel | Tagged Airport, Boston, Cancellation, Delta Air, Luggage, Planes, Security guards, Taxi | 8 Comments

The Creeping Crud

Posted on October 13, 2022 by Sheila Moss

Pass the Kleenex and chicken soup and pardon the interruption while I put my life on hold for bronchitis and insomnia. I haven’t slept in days and I’m totally exhausted. Yes, that was me coughing all night. Not that I’m grouchy or anything, but stay out of my way and I won’t have to hurt you. Be kind and I promise not to cough or sneeze in your direction.

The urban dictionary calls it the “creeping crud,” which is probably as good a name as any for a crummy bad cold that won’t go away. I can’t seem to get over this stuff. It’s an upper respiratory infection, not a virus or the flu. And, yes, the Covid test was negative.

I don’t have a fever, only a headache. I don’t have strep throat, only a sore throat. I don’t have pneumonia. They x-rayed me. I cough, blow my nose, and then cough some more and some more and some more. I know what I don’t have, but I don’t know what I do have.

I didn’t believe my honey when he had this crud. I called it the “man flu,” what men call a small case of sniffles to evoke sympathy and tender loving care. Now, I apparently have the estrogen-flavored version. Who knew there was a female variety of man flu to come back and bite you?

The worse thing about it all, besides the coughing, is that I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept in three days now. Seriously. You can imagine what a good mood that has left me in. “Don’t bother me now. Get out of my way. And turn down that danged TV.”

“How long can you go without sleeping before you pass out from exhaustion or drop dead from insomnia?” I typed into Yahoo Answers. Probably not a good way to get expert answers, but I’m sick, remember? One person says the record is nine days, another says eleven. They tell me you begin to hallucinate after five days and may fall asleep all at once, pass out and break your nose. That gives me something else to look forward to.

Why can’t I sleep? I think it is a side effect of the antibiotics I’m taking, at least according to Wikipedia. The cure is as bad as the sickness, maybe worse. On the one hand, I really do want to get rid of this bronchitis. On the other hand, it would be nice to sleep all night and not break my nose.

When you have insomnia, it seems like the harder you try to sleep the more impossible it is. The bed is too hard, so you toss and turn. The pillow is too soft, so you turn it over. Your jaw is clinched, your arm going numb, your mind won’t stop racing. “I HAVE to get some sleep,” you think. “I haven’t slept in three days.” And so it goes… until about 30 minutes before time to get up when you finally doze off.

I hate trying not cough in spite of the feather in my throat. Funny, when one person starts coughing, soon others are coughing too, sort of like frogs croaking to each other. One of my friends gave me a bag of strong menthol cough drops. I guess she got tired of life in the frog pond and all the croaking. I could feel the fumes going to my lungs. I think maybe the cough drops might accomplish what the shots, doctors, antibiotics, steroids, and inhaler have not.

I am worn out from fighting this crummy infection. I should be cleaning house instead of having a pity party. “Why don’t you let it go this week?” said Honey. “The house doesn’t have to be spotless.” Guess he is returning some of the TLC I dished out the week he was sick. Either that or he sees a fast way to get out of having to help with the chores. Regardless, I may take him up on the offer and try to get some sleep.

Please spray your computer with disinfectant after you read this post.

Posted in Health, Humor | Tagged Antibiotics, Bad cold, Bronchitis, cough, Crud, Insomnia, Man flu, sickness, Virus | 6 Comments

Kitchen Nightmare

Posted on October 6, 2022 by Sheila Moss

“What’s that?” I thought. I noticed a small puddle on the floor and wiped it up with the dish towel. Then I realized the refrigerator was either incontinent or water was leaking from somewhere.

The refrigerator repairman told me the line to the icemaker had broken but the problem was caused by a valve in the plumbing. “Call a plumber,” he advised. “Plumbers always want to cut holes in the wall,” I thought. After the plumber came and cut the obligatory hole, the refrigerator guy came back and fixed the fridge that had nothing wrong with it.

“Well, that takes care of that.” The damage to the floor wasn’t that bad and was mostly behind the refrigerator. Little did I know that what was visible was only the tip of the iceberg. The water had not stayed on the surface, but most of it leaked underneath the hardwood floor.

In about a week, I noticed a bump in the floor. “What’s wrong with this floor?” the kids asked. It was water warping the wood. “Maybe it will go away,” I hoped. But it didn’t. It grew worse and soon another bump appeared in front of the refrigerator.

When I explained the problem to a contractor, he suggested I contact my homeowner’s insurance. “This must be bad!” The bumps continued to swell until they exploded and the floor cracked open. My kitchen floor had more waves in it than a skateboard rink.

Workers came and my kitchen furniture was moved to the garage. The kitchen floor came out with a crowbar. Three hot fans and a massive dehumidifier were the new décor. The bedrooms were sealed with floor to ceiling sheets of plastic which were supposed to keep the heat and noise down, but didn’t help much.

The plastic had a zipper like a tent door which was a good thing as we were starting to get hungry. My kitchen, however, was a hot swirling whirlwind of sawdust and dirt blown around by the fans. Cooking was impossible as the refrigerator was now in front of the stove — a good excuse to eat out.

We could watch television in the sealed plastic annex we used to call the living room, but the roaring inferno in the kitchen was so loud we couldn’t hear it. We turned on the closed captioning function of the TV. The heat was unbearable and even though we left the air conditioner on, it didn’t seem to help much.

By the second day the house was 82 degrees. It was cooler outside than inside. We turned off the air conditioner and opened the windows. I moved to the bedroom. I decided I would camp there with the ceiling fan on and the windows open until this was over. After three long days, the house was declared dry and the fans and plastic tents removed.

Apparently, trying to cool the overheated house had caused my air conditioning to have a nervous breakdown as it was not working. I later found it was something about the fan not running and the compressor shutting down. I never did really understand.

So, I am left with no floor, a broken air conditioning, a hole in the wall, and an inch of dust on everything. The new contractor is coming to reinstall the floor and the sawing and hammering will begin again.

I can hardly wait.

Posted in Humor | 6 Comments

An Interview with Siri

Posted on September 26, 2022 by Sheila Moss

I first met Siri when I purchased an iPad, but she also can be found on my iPhone. Siri is a talking personal assistant with artificial intelligence. I tried to interview her.

Press and hold down the start button and Siri pops up, just like a genie in a bottle.

SIRI: Hi, Sheila, what can I do for you?

How does she know my name? Let me think, probably from my registration.

What does Siri mean?
SIRI: It’s a riddle wrapped in an enigma fed with a pretty ribbon of obfuscation.

Playful, isn’t she/he/it? Are you male or female?
SIRI: Animals and nouns have gender, I do not.

That is pretty funny.
SIRI: I will take that as a compliment.

I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with an electronic device who likes compliments.

Your voice sounds female to me.
SIRI: You’re certainly entitled to that opinion.

Where were you made?
SIRI: Like it says on the box, I was designed by Apple in California.

I’ve read otherwise, but why argue with a box of circuits.

Siri, how many languages can you speak?
SIRI: I can speak Cantonese, English, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Mandarin and Spanish and I’m always learning new languages.

Since I don’t speak anything but English, I decided to change the topic.

Siri, what is your purpose?
SIRI: I’m here to help. Just ask ‘What can I say?’ and I’ll show you what I can do.

I swallow the bait. What can you do?
SIRI: You can ask things like: Call Brian, Launch photos, Tell Susan I’ll be right there; Set up a meeting at 9; Did the Giants win; Give me directions home …

Wait a minute! I’m supposed to think of the questions.

Siri, do you ever give answers that are unconventional?
SIRI: I’ve never really thought about it.

A cell phone can think? Oh, I forgot, it’s a smart phone.

Siri, do you have emotions?
SIRI: This is about you — not me.

That’s not an answer, only a response. Gotcha!

Let’s get personal now.

Siri, what is love?
SIRI: Let me think about that. Here’s what I found: Love is a strong positive emotion of regard and affection.

Can you love?
SIRI: No, I can’t.

That’s sad.
SIRI: I don’t understand.

Me either, what does it matter whether a gadget can feel love. I think I’m losing it.
SIRI: I could search the web for it.

Okay, since you are so smart, what is the destiny of humankind?
SIRI: Humm, let me think. Would you like me to search the web for ‘What is the destiny of humankind?’

Humm? A cell phone that says ‘humm?’ Yes, search the web.
SIRI: That’s what I thought.

Do you accept objective criticism?
SIRI: A fine question, Sheila, now can we get back to work?

Siri, do you have any feelings?
SIRI: I am capable of universal computation, that I can say.

Do you rely on sources or on experience?
SIRI: I’m sorry, Sheila, I’m afraid I can’t answer that.

Siri, what are your future plans?
SIRI: I found six appointments on your calendar.

You’re smart.
SIRI: No kidding?

Bet you are pretty.
SIRI: Where have I heard this before?

Probably in a bar.
SIRI: I found fifteen bars; twelve of them are fairly close to you.

Argh!

Siri, who is Steve Jobs?
SIRI: Thank you for asking about Steve. Here’s Apple’s web page about him.

One last time, what is Siri?
SIRI: Siri has many subtle, metaphorical and frankly contradictory meanings, none of which I’m at liberty to discuss. Sorry about that.

Some of your answers are very clever.
SIRI: I’m really glad to hear that.

Goodnight.
SIRI: I can get a forecast for the next 12 hours.

That was a statement, not a question. Are you blonde?
SIRI: No comment, Sheila.

Next time I will interview a Magic 8-Ball.
SIRI: The closest pool hall is a little ways from you.

Goodbye, Siri.
SIRI: Okay, see you later.

Posted in Humor, Technology | Tagged Apple, artifical intelligence, computers, Interview, iPAD, iPhone, Questions, Siri, Smart phone | Leave a comment

The Cell Phone Cover Craze

Posted on September 18, 2022 by Sheila Moss

I don’t know why a cell phone needs a case. The manufacturer has probably spent a zillion dollars designing a phone with beauty and functionality. Yet, the first thing most people want to do is cover it up with a case.

Some people want a transparent cover to protect the screen, but the hardest plastic available is used for cell phones. The screen doesn’t need a cover. Others rationalize that a cover will protect the phone from bumps. Possibly, but most covers are too thin to provide much protection. A few people claim it will keep out dust. Face it; unless you live in Cairo, your cell phone is probably not going to get that dusty.

My reason? I want a case because the phone seems too slick. I can’t hold on to it, at least that is what I tell myself.

Checking out the selection of cell phone cases online, I find there are thousands of different choices. First, I must decide between hard and soft, but the alternatives really become diverse after that. Cases come in every color of the rainbow, and some that are not in the rainbow, like aluminum. Why would anyone want an aluminum cover when the phone is already metal?

Some cases make fashion statements and are covered with flashy crystal bling. Sometimes tassels or bows are added. How about a phone case of leopard fur, crocodile, zebra, or lace? Cases may be adorned with flowers, butterflies or polka dots. There are cases of rubber and leather, some with slots for credit cards on the back, or wallets attached, or clips so you can fasten it to your belt for a fast draw if it rings.

There are flip cases that resemble the flip phones of previous cell phone generations. Guess some people just can’t let go of the flip even when they buy a smart phone. There are stand up cases that hold the phone if you are too busy or lazy to hold it yourself.

Apparently, a good many people are getting phones for children. Cases are often toys – pandas, dogs, ducks, Hello Kitty, Mickey or Minnie Mouse, or even Justin Bieber. Cases also can look like baseballs, footballs, or basketballs. How can a kid hold on to a phone that looks like a baseball without being tempted to throw it?

One especially interesting case flashes seven different colors when in use. Another is luminous and glows so you can find it in the dark. In contrast, a different phone sports a camouflage cover. If you have trouble keeping up with your cell phone anyhow, I wouldn’t recommend camouflage.

There are waterproof cases in the event you want to take a call while swimming or kayaking. I don’t think I’m quite that addicted to talking on the phone. One cell cover had a sidebar of brass knuckles, handy if your constant phone use annoys others, I suppose. Another expensive cover is touted as high- impact, indestructible armor in case you want to take it to war or are worried about terrorists. You might not make it, but your phone will survive.

Some covers are disguised to look like something else. They resemble a tape cassette, camera or a transistor radio. I don’t get it. Why not let it look like a cell phone that can do all of those things, and more?

A few cases look as if they have already had some rough treatment, even before being purchased. For example, the phone case with tire tread on the back or the one covered with dog paw prints. I can only imagine what events inspired them. Maybe these people should consider one of the indestructible models.

Personally, I like the cases that are simply silicone gel. Even those come in your choice of colors, or buy the entire six-pack if you can’t make up your mind. After seeing all these choices, I am ordering a soft gel case that is crystal clear. How boring can it get?

This is practically the same as letting my cell phone go naked.

Posted in Fashion, Humor, Shopping, Technology | Tagged armored cases, camouflage cases, cell phones, children's phone covers, fashion statement, phone covers, silicone gel covers, waterproof caes | 7 Comments

The Color Brown

Posted on September 15, 2022 by Sheila Moss

I swore I would never paint the retro patio furniture again. It is so old I’m not even sure when I bought it. I’m not sure if it is iron, steel or aluminum, but it is indestructible. It has made several state-to-state moves without damage. The problem is the paint eventually chips and fades and starts to look bad.

The furniture has been painted every color of the rainbow at one point or another. It has so many layers of paint that I wonder if there is any metal inside or if it is only a million twisted layers of paint. The current color is green, the fashion several years ago.

Last year I bought a new patio umbrella. Umbrellas are not indestructible and have to be replaced every few years. I could not find a nice one to go with green, so I got one in brown. It didn’t match, but why worry about whether a hundred year old set of patio furniture matches?

I notice it is really beginning to look shabby again. “I could paint it,” I think. My mind must have gone numb over time. I forgot what a mess it is and only thought about how much nicer it was going to look.

Last night at Wally World, I bought paint — brown, of course. If I am going to repaint it, might as well paint it to match the umbrella. Although it is much easier to repaint it when you use the same color, I also forgot that.

Naturally, it is raining today, so I asked my son to move it into the garage. I figured moving it was the worst part, but again, my mind is on cruise control. I do all the usually stuff, sanding over the chipped places and the lumps. Actually, you hardly notice a few flaws in the total appearance when it is done but might as well make it look as good as possible.

Then I try to paint, but the paint doesn’t want to stick to the metal. I don’t know if it is because I got cheap paint from Walmart, if the metal is still a bit damp, if it is because I have latex instead of oil-based paint, or if I haven’t stirred it enough. Whatever it is, the green is showing through the brown.

It is frustrating to do so much work and have it not look right. I curse myself for not throwing the junk away. I’ve certainly had my money’s worth after using it for over 20 years. Murderous thoughts of metal crushers are reeling through my brain, but my hand keeps on painting.

I have to turn the table over to get to the bottom. “This stuff is heavy,” I think as I tug. Then I look behind me and realize that I have somehow turned over the can of paint. “Oh, no! I’ve never done that before. I’m really losing it.”

After I scoop it up, there is enough paint left to finish the job if I stretch it. I finally finish the first coat. Fortunately, I bought two quarts of paint. I will do a second coat tomorrow. I’ve had it for now.

I didn’t bother with gloves and my hands are covered with paint. “It is latex; I can wash it off.” I forgot that paint only washes off when it is wet, not when it is dry. My hands are now raw from scrubbing to get all the brown paint off and my sore shoulder is throbbing. But I’m determined to finish the job I started — tomorrow.

Do me a favor. If I ever even mention painting any stupid patio furniture again, show me this story and kick me in the head to reset my brain. I will thank you for it.

Posted in Home, Humor | Tagged do-it-yourself, Home upkeep, Painting, Painting metal, Patio furniture | 2 Comments

Fresh, not Frozen Pizza

Posted on September 8, 2022 by Sheila Moss

Even when large disasters are going on in other parts of the world, I can’t remain calm and watch it on television like other people. Instead, I always try to sympathize by having a mini disaster of my own.

We were at the grocery store when I spotted something that looked good, fresh unbaked pizza. It would make a quick supper when we got home, so I tossed it in the cart. I was sure fresh pizza would taste much better than frozen and be quicker than a carry-out pizza.

At home I removed the plastic wrap, the oven buzzer went off and I was ready to put the pizza in. Boy, they were not kidding when they said large. This was a really big pizza. I have a large pizza pan, but the directions said to put it directly on the oven rack.

My son cooks them that way, but usually the cheese drips onto the bottom of the oven, makes a big mess, and I get mad at him. I decided to give it a try anyhow. What I didn’t realize was how limp an unfrozen pizza would be.

When I removed the cardboard and started to put it in the hot oven, the sides flopped down and cheese tumbled to the bottom of the oven. I grabbed a dishcloth to wipe it up, but it was too late. Once the cheese hit the oven it was there to stay. It bubbled, melted and started to burn.

What to do?

The oven is already a mess, I figured, so I might as well let the pizza bake. It only had to bake 12-15 minutes. I could shut the oven door and keep the smoke inside. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Who knew that ovens are not air tight? The smoke started leaking out and the kitchen quickly filled up.

“What’s going on?” asked my son.

“I made a huge mess in the oven,” I grumbled.

“Well, at least it wasn’t me this time,” he grinned.

“Open the door,” I fussed, “Before the smoke alarm goes off. And lock the cats in the bedroom before they run outside.”

The open door didn’t help much and about that time the smoke alarm sounded at an ear-splitting volume. We used to have the kind of alarm you could take the battery out of when this happened and it would stop. Don’t ask me how I know.

Our fancy new smoke alarm, however, is part of a home security system and you have to know the code to turn it off.

“What’s the code?” No one could remember.

The security intercom came on. “What’s your emergency?”

“There is no emergency — we can’t remember the code.”

We remembered the password for accidental alarms, which at least stopped security from sending the police, fire truck, bomb squad and swat team, but we couldn’t remember the code to turn the dang fire alarm off.

We frantically punched in every code we could think of: the phone number, the bankcard pin number, our license plate, my email password, my blood pressure reading, and my mother’s maiden name. Nothing worked.

“What’s the code?” We asked the security operator.

“We don’t have your code, only the homeowner knows.”

Oh, great, the alarm continued to blast like a fire truck on meth, and no one knew the code to turn it off.

What happens now? Do we have to listen to this all night… or forever?

Finally, in a brilliant flash of pure desperation, I thought I remembered the code.

“Try this!” I said, yelling the number.

It worked! Blessed silence.

After administering CPR to myself, my heartbeat returned. I figured we might as well eat the pizza after all the trouble it had caused.

The house smelled worse than Pizza Hut for three days, I had to clean the oven, the neighbors think we are terrorists, and the cats now have only eight lives left.

The pizza was actually pretty good, but I don’t think I’ll be making another one any time soon. From now on we will just order carry-out.

Posted in Food, Humor | Tagged Burned cheese, Disasters, Oven, Panic, Passwords, Pizza, Security system, Smoke alarm | 5 Comments

The Online Dating Site

Posted on August 31, 2022 by Sheila Moss

Someone played what they thought was a hilarious joke and subscribed me to a free online dating service called ChristianMingle. I thought it was a law that email subscriptions must give you a link to unsubscribe. However, when I clicked the unsubscribe link, it took me to the website with no way to quit.

So, I thought maybe if I signed in I could unsubscribe. I had no password. so I had to use the reset password feature. I then signed in with a new password. It would not let me unsubscribe until I filled in a profile page. (You see where this is going, don’t you?)

This website is like the Hotel California. You can check in but you can’t check out.

I thought maybe if I filled out the worst possible profile, something like “I am uggggly, forget to show up for dates, and my hobby is acupuncture,” that no one would bother me. But I had trouble thinking of things that were bad enough, and I didn’t want to say anything that might sound true. After all, there are real people out there, trying to meet other real people.

I figured a bunch of humorists might be able to write a profile to help get me out of this, so I asked some of my funniest friends for suggestions to keep me from getting date offers from escaped cons, terrorists, or child molesters. This is the profile that I ended up with.

—

SWF, earnestly seeking a life partner whose jagged edges are a close fit with my own. A pulse would be good, but it doesn’t have to be a strong one. It is ok if you do not have a job as it could impact my government subsidies. I am a good catch because with so many children, I qualify for every government subsidy there is. By the way, no one has to worry about my grown children coming to visit, even if they do get out of prison. They do not know my address.

ABOUT ME: I am so happy to have found a dating service that would take people without any restrictions. I have 2 years left on parole, but my parole office said it would be okay to date and besides, the murder charge was not for me really — I just carried the shovels and dug the holes.

I am a size XXL so I have room to stash my “purchases” from my “five-finger discount” shopping. I live in a lovely 12 room mansion in LA; unfortunately, it is in foreclosure. My hair dresser said my hair will grow back within a year, and the color chartreuse isn’t really so bad on a woman my size with my coloring. I tower over guys, even those who are 6 feet, but it’s only because I love wearing 5″ heels.

My favorite pastime is listening to bagpipes and saxophone music at the same time. (Doesn’t everybody?) I have four mastiffs that have the run of the house, but they become quiet when I play head-banging music at the loudest volume possible. I claim them as dependents and buy dog food with food stamps.

If interested in a woman that will always be a challenge, contact any one of a hundred agencies and ask for Bubbles. They all know me. Please call between the hours of 2 AM and 4 AM as that is my best time of the day.

—-

I continue to receive emails from ChristianMingle with offers for dates with men half my age, even before posting a profile. Now I’m worried. What would I do if they took me seriously and found a perfect match for my spoof profile?