Archive for the ‘Kids’ Category

veteranarian

When she was young, my daughter Rachael had a pet hamster. She named him Wilbur. She would set Wilbur beside her while she watched cartoons on TV and play with him during the commercials. That is, if he didn’t sneak off while she wasn’t paying attention.

Now, hamsters are not known for their longevity. One day Rachael brought Wilbur to me and said something was wrong with him. He was stiff, cold and not breathing.

“Honey, I’m afraid Wilbur is dead.” I said softly.

“No, he isn’t!” she protested.

“I’m pretty sure he is.” I replied.

“No, we have to take him to the doctor, she cried.

So we took him to a veterinarian.

The vet broke the news to Rachael. “Rachael, Your father is correct. It was Wilbur’s time to go, and he is no longer with us.” Then he said to me, “That’ll be $10 for the visit.”

Amid Rachael’s sobbing and disbelief, I asked, “You’re absolutely sure he’s gone?”

“Well, just a minute,” he said, and brought in a calico tabby. The cat licked Wilbur from head to toe, then lowered her head and gave a soft, “meow.” The vet then brought in a Golden Retriever. The dog sniffed Wilbur, then lowered his head and gave a soft, “woof.” “That’s conclusive, said the vet. “He’s definitely dead,” and added, “that will be $250 for the visit.”

“Now wait a minute,” I said, “It was only a $10 visit a minute ago.”

“Well, yes,” said the vet. “That was before you ordered the cat scan and the lab test.”

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McMonopoly

Posted: October 11, 2012 in Family, Food, Kids, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

McDonalds' Monopoly Gamepiece - peel it
to reveal a winner.

   McDonald’s just launched their 20th annual Monopoly game contest. When you buy certain food and drink items from McDonald’s, you get two or four game pieces attached to the packaging. You peel the game pieces off to reveal either an instant win coupon or a monopoly property card that you collect for a big prize.

   My daughter has always been a fan of these games of chance. One Christmas, when she was about 10, she wanted to hang around the store after we bought our Christmas gifts so she could win the door prize. I tried my best to discourage her so we could go home, but she begged, and so we stayed. She won the door prize — a diamond bracelet worth about $200.

   The other night, the family was eating at McD’s, and my daughter pulls her Monopoly game pieces from her drink cup. WINNER! She wins a free Tropical Smoothie.

    She goes up to the counter to claim it, and she comes back with a large milk shake instead. The guy behind the counter made another customer the wrong drink, so he let my daughter have it for free… WINNER! Oh and, by the way, the milk shake had two more Monopoly pull-off pieces. You guessed it. WINNER! – She wins a free order of fries to go with that milk shake and smoothie.

   So what did I get on my drink cup Monopoly pull-offs? Luxury tax and GO STRAIGHT TO JAIL.

   One of the distinguishing features of small Southern towns is that everybody in town knows everyone else. This is especially true with the older generations who were not as mobile as their younger counterparts. In the courtroom of one of those small Southern towns, the prosecuting attorney called his first witness to the stand. She was an elderly, but spry woman, sharp as a tack and very vocal.

   The prosecuting attorney approached her and asked, “Mrs. Jones, do you know me?” She responded, “Why, yes, I know you, Billy Williams. I’ve known you since you were a young boy, and frankly, you’ve been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat, you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you’re a big shot driving your big fancy car and wearing your fancy clothes when you haven’t the brains to realize that everybody in town knows that you’re a fake and you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you, Billy Williams.”

   The prosecutor was stunned! Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room at the defense attorney and asked, “Well, Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?” She again replied, “Why, yes, I know Johnny. I’ve known Johnny Bradley since he was a youngster. He’s lazy, he’s bigoted, he’s boisterous and he has a drinking problem. He can’t build a normal relationship with anyone because he’s too arrogant. His law practice is one of the worst in the entire state, not to mention he cheated to pass the board. And speaking of cheating, he’s cheated on his wife with three different women, and one of them was your wife. Yes, I know Johnny Bradley all too well.”

   The defense attorney stood helpless. The prosecuting attorney was in shock. The judge asked both counselors to approach the bench and, in a very quiet voice, said, “If either one of you idiots asks her if she knows me, I’ll send you both to the electric chair.”

When listening to a college-level professor speak, there is likely to be an air of distinguishment, an aloofness, a specificity in the selection of words that can mask the true meaning. In other words, there is more to what they are saying than what you hear. To explain this phenomiina, here is a table of what the professor says versus what the professor means.

What the Professor says: What the Professor means:
If you follow my simple rules, you’ll do fine in this class. If you can read and comprehend over 200 pages a night and survive without sleep, you’ll do fine in this class.
You’ll be using one of the finest textbooks in the field. You’ll be using a textbook that I’ve written.
Before we begin, are there any questions over the prerequisite reading material? Does anyone have any idea what this class is about?
Today, we will let a member of the class lead the discussion. It will be a good educational experience. I haven’t prepared a lesson, so I’m going to use one of you as a scapegoat to cover my shortfall.
Today, we’re discussing a very important topic in the field. Today, we’re discussing my dissertation.
What’s most important is to understand the gist of what the author is saying. I don’t understand the details of this author’s theory.
Various authorities agree… I have a hunch…
Unfortunately, we do not have the time to consider the works of all the people who made a contribution in this field. I totally disagree with roughly half the people who have done work in this field.
According to my sources… According to the guy who taught me this subject…
But I digress… But I’m starting to talk about something interesting…
The implications are clear… I don’t know what all this means, but there will be a question on the test about it.
The final exam will be a 50 question multiple-choice, so everyone should make 100%. The final exam will have 35 multiple-guess questions, 5 trick questions, and 5, 200-word essay questions. No one will score above 75%.
Your test scores were generally good. Some of you managed to get a ‘B’.
Your test scores were slightly below my expectations. Where was the party last night?
Some of you could have done better. No one got a passing grade.
The answer to your question is beyond the scope of this class. I don’t know the answer.
You’ll need to see me during office hours for the answer to your question. I don’t know the answer.
In answer to your question, you must realize there are various disparate points of view… I really don’t know the answer.
We can continue this discussion outside of class. I don’t know the answer, and you’re starting to embarrass me.
Any questions? Are you ready to go?
It’s been very rewarding, teaching this class. I hope they find someone else to teach this class next year.

 
   This is a letter from a Kentucky woman to her son:
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Johnny: 

   I’m writing this letter real slow ‘cause I know you can’t read that fast. We don’t live where we did when you left. Your Dad read in the paper where most accidents happen within twenty miles of home, so we moved. I won’t be able to send you the address as the last family that lived there took the numbers with them for their next house so they wouldn’t have to change their address. This place has an indoor porcelain washing machine. I haven’t figgured out how to use it yet. The first day, I put four shirts in it, pushed the handle down, and haven’t seen them since, although it did refill with water.

    The weather’s been nice. It only rained twice this week: three days the first time and four days the second time. The coat you wanted me to send you, you’ll have to sew the buttons back on. Your Ant Sue said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with them metal buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.

    Your father has an important new job. He now has over 500 men under him. He is cutting the grass at the cemetery. Your sister had her baby this morning. I haven’t found out whether it is a boy or a girl, so I don’t know if you are an aunt or an uncle. The neighbor’s wife had twins and he is out with a shotgun looking for the other man.

    Your Uncle Jim fell in the whiskey vat at work. Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off. He drowned with a smile on his face. We had him cremated and he burned for three days. Grampa went to the doctor. He wasn’t feeling too well. The doctor told him, “take one of these pills a day for the rest of your life.” Grampa is quite upset ‘cause the doctor only gave him thirty pills. By the way, we got a bill from the funeral home. They said if we didn’t make the last payment on grandma’s funeral, up she comes.

   Your brother is turning in to a neighborhood bully. He can beat up all the kids around except for the Murphy family; they have boys. Two of your high school friends died the other day. They went off the Cedar Narrows bridge in a pickup truck. Paul was driving; Randy and Scott were in the back. Paul got Out. He rolled the window down and swam to safety. The other two drowned; they couldn’t get the tailgate down.

   Well, that’s all the news for now.

Love, Mom

PS. I was going to send you a check for $10, but I had already sealed the envelope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Letter to my darling husband

Letter from Boot Camp

.

   When my son was about six or seven, I took him to a Brevard Manatees baseball game. Along about the sixth inning, we were getting fairly hungry and headed down to the concessions booths. We were about fourth or fifth in line when my son announced, “Hey dad, somebody dropped a dollar.”

   I looked down, and between our feet was a dollar bill, folded twice. I told him, “Go ahead and pick it up.” So he bent down and picked up the bill.

   “Dad, should I ask the man in front of us if he dropped it?” he asked. I admired his honesty, but I explained to him a micro-lesson in human behavior: If you offer a person something of value, and ask, ‘Is this yours?’ unscrupulous people will always say ‘yes’ and take your offering, even if it’s not theirs. I told him a better way would be to wait and see if when the man pulls his money out to pay, if he notices the money missing and starts looking around for it, then offer the money you found to him.

   We waited through several customers, and none seemed to be missing some money, so after about five minutes or so, I told my son he could keep the dollar.

   We returned to our seats. We sat down and he unfolded the bill and said, “Dad, it’s not a dollar — it’s twenty dollars!” Then he quickly added, “I think I like baseball.”

 a cute little boy

The little boy was so cute, everyone wanted to pinch his cheeks.

   Little Justin was the epitome of cuteness wrapped in the body of a four-year-old boy. The problem was, he was just too cute. It wasn’t so much the day-to-day living, as it was special functions. Like church.

   Come Sunday morning, all the older ladies of the church would just carry on about Justin’s cuteness, and before he could get away from them, they would grab his cheek betwixt the index finger and the thumb, and give it a pinch. Sometimes they would add a little shaking motion, like a pit bull latched on to a chew toy. It left his cheeks rosy and numb. The pinching was especially bad at weddings. There are even more old women at weddings than there are at church on Sunday. As each one pinched his little cheeks, they’d say “You’re next!”

   Well, Justin finally discovered a way to get the old women to leave his cheeks alone. Whenever he’d go to a funeral, he’d seek out the older women. He’d run up to them, grab their cheeks, and pinch it with a solid twist, look them right in the eye, smile and say, “You’re next!”

The old ladies never bothered Justin after that.

Songwriter Larry LaPrise passes

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