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Tuesday, September 15, 2015

I was at an office party one day .. seated besided two young bucks whose wives were both pregnant. Their conversation just was not in my general interest area so I only had one ear open (but then thats the best I can do anyway) .. 

When one asked the other one "whos your obstetrician?"  My ears perked up. There might be possiblilities of a story here. .. so the one on the other side answers "Dr. Alvin Chew" .. 

My ears perked up .. I thought "Can there be two of them in the city? .. maybe this is his son or something. 

Number  one 'father to be' answers "No kidding? We go to him too."  As if he had a part to play in this other than donor and chauffeur....  

Number two 'father to be' kicks in "Yes we researched all over the city, and in Sherwood Park and St. Albert. Apparently hes the best in Northern Alberta" .. 

Back to Number One .. "Yes my wife did the same. She feels much safer with him. Its a shame we have to go across town to the MillTown Familly Office." .. 

My jaw dropped .. so I picked it up and popped it back on its hinges. .. Then I butted into the conversation "Are you guys  talking about Dr. Alvin Chew at the Milltown Clinic?. Down by Community Centre Mall?" .." in the same office as Dr Kaziniwski?" .. " "Yup thats the one! do you know him? .. Yes my kids were yanked out by Dr Kaziniwski back before the Fall of Rome"  

..and they went back to talking about Car seats for newborns.

We all smiled at the old geezers joke.  But the real joke was on me.   I sat there and thought .. "hmmmm
next time he sticks that finger in me and tells me to cough, Im going to wonder if he's looking for my ovaries?"

Thursday, September 3, 2015

 Roping a Deer   old story .. enhanced .   (not mine but I love this style of writing)

Actual letter from someone who farms, writes well, and tried this!

I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it.

The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.

I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up -- 3 of them.   I picked out....a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope.

The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and then received an education.

The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.

That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity.

A deer-- no chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined.

The only up side is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals. A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.

At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope.

I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.

Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have to suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand...kind of like a squeeze chute.

I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back. Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million year s would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when...

I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist.

Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head --almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.

The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it.

While I kept it busy tearing the tendons out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.

Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp. I learned a long time ago that, when an animal --like a horse --strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal.

This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape. This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy.

I screamed like a big baby and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head.

Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.

Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.

I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away. So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope to sort of even the odds.

All these events are true, so help me God...

Name withheld due to embarrassment

Monday, August 24, 2015

I taught the big bearded guy a lesson.

I didn’t provoke the fight, so I feel no remorse for what I was forced to do. We were arguing. I was right and he was wrong. He didn’t agree with my assessment of the size of his brain. He decided to fight to cover up his stupidity. 
He swung at me first.  I’m in such great shape that  I was able to act quickly and block his punch neatly with my head. I jumped to the ground dragging him down on top of me. I was begging for him to stop because I did not want to have to hurt him. He  was yelling and swearing so I placed my ear in his mouth so he would stop yelling at me. I poked his fingers several times with my eye.  His teeth must have been hurt badly by the strength of my ear because he became irate. He repeatedly mentioned, very loudly, that no one was allowed to disrespect his motorcycle by peeing on it. His voice was rather funny as it was interrupted by each kick he tried to use on me.  I cleverly blocked his onslaught with my ribs and head.
Eventually I got to my wind back enough to stand up (slowly so he wouldn’t think I was a danger to him when I told him that it might be due to sexual relations between his mother and his uncle) . I ambled toward my car in hopes that I could leave the scene without having to hurt this poor man further.
Before I could start the car he pulled me from the still open door. I was then convinced that I would have to swing at him but only managed to hit myself in the head.
To this I said “What’s this?  Two against one?”
That was the final straw . I lost all control.  There was something rotten in the state of Denmark.  I needed to evacuate .. the premises.
 “There will be no mercy now” I quaked with anger. Taking him in a death grip I pounded him in the knee with my stomach.  Then I hit him two or three times .. hard .. in the fist, .. with my teeth. Finally, he had had enough!  I could tell. He didn’t even try to pick me up off the ground. He was too chicken.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Dont step on a wet floor

A police officer called the station on his radio. 
"I have an interesting case here. An old lady shot her husband for stepping on the floor she just mopped." 
"Have you arrested the woman?" 
"Not yet. The floor's still wet."

You missed it!

So what does this mean?

Things to remember as you grow old.

A fragment of a note from Clint Eastwood

"So, just in case I'm gone tomorrow, please know this:
I voted against that incompetent, lying, flip-flopping, insincere,
double-talking, radical socialist, terrorist excusing, bleeding heart,
narcissistic, scientific and economic moron currently in the White
Participating in a gun buy-back program because you think that
criminals have too many guns is like having yourself castrated because
you think your neighbors have too many kids".

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Attention Surplus Disorder

Attention Surplus Disorder

Thats when you hear something you've never heard before: a word, a story, a concept, a definition. Then suddenly you start seeing it all over the place.

Another term for this is "Newbiquitous"



That's what happens when two people approach each other head on and then both sidestep right then both sidestep left to get out of the way.

Also known as Polka-dodge

"Deficit Sending"

"Deficit Sending"

When you send an email but forget to add the attachment.

Other possibles
"Sends of Ommission"



That's what you call it when an electronic device stops working, until the repairman comes, then it starts working again until the repairman is out of touch.   

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Wet Pants

Come with me to a third grade classroom.....There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives. The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat."       He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered. As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap. The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!" Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.  She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. You've done enough, you klutz!" Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too." May God help us see the opportunities that are always around us to do good. Remember.....Just going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car. I not only love the story --- I love this last quote!!  I only hope that in the coming years there will be many people with fishbowls around me!!!

The Stink Wars of 2015.

The Stink Wars of 2015.

There was another yellow spot on the lawn. The neighbor had been walking his dog again. Always ticks me off.  So I went looking. The darned thing always leaves more than 3 lbs of kielbasa-shaped dog crap. I knew it had to be there somewhere. It always is. The pompous bugger would never have left it on anyone else's lawn. I found it and scooped it up and dumped it in the white plastic garbage bag containing the sum total of the last three days 'puppy chow'; maybe 15 lbs.

The neighbor had a pure bred dog, part Afghan hound, part St. Bernard, and part German shepherd.  The Afghan genes obviously dominated its intelligence, coloring and general shape. It got the St. Bernard’s size, 'output volume' and drool. The German shepherd showed through in ears, tail and Nazi attitude. This was one ugly dog.

Heck, this was one ugly neighbor too.  His name was Hyde. We used to joke about how Dr. Jekyll was never home.  Like the dog, this guy was a pure bred cross. I could see elements of Bella Lugosi, Peter Lorre, and Yul Brynner in his genes. He had a Bela Lugosi face, a Peter Lorry snivel and a Yul Brynner strut. 

He loved to brag about his 'house-trained' dog. Heck yeah, house trained is right! He had trained the dog to go to my house.  He would open the door. The dog would sniff the air, come out the door, take the steps 2 at a time, bound across the lawn, jump the hedge with about 2 ft to spare, and do an inspection tour of my lawn before it chose a spot to leave its mark on the earth. To add insult to injury the dog would turn its back on the pile and kick up clods of my fresh mowed sod with his back feet in a useless attempt to cover his tracks.

My lawn was in serious need of saving.

I decided defensive tactics were in order. My brother-in-law is a know-it-all. Just ask my mother-in-law or my wife. He knows everything. He said just throw the dog crap back on the neighbors own lawn. I tried that.  I found a key scratch all down the side of my new Volvo the next morning.  I kinda knew what that message was saying.  It spelled out "Don’t mess with me." in nice big scratchy letters.  I was mad and in a mood to be much more destructive but my natural cowardice took precedence, for now.

My brother-in-law was enraged. He figured I should walk up to the neighbor’s door, ring his doorbell, and punch his lights out.  I thought it was a great idea but since I was going to be away that day I asked my brother-in-law if he would do it for me. He didn’t even pause when he said "Maybe it’s not such a great idea." My mother-in-law agreed with him. She had agreed with him when he first suggested the 'punch his lights out' approach too.  My brother-in-law then suggested 'pepper'. Okay, that sounded better than the 'lights out' scheme. So the very next day I bought 3 large (the giant lifetime supply type) cans of Malkin's Black Pepper. Somehow I didn’t think bell peppers or even Jalapenos would do.)  (Did you know that during the middle ages black pepper was more valuable than gold? Now too!!)  I spread it all over the lawn, side to side and corner to corner... I spread it thick.  I’m sure it would have worked if that freak 'sneezing' wind hadn't come up soon after. ..   People complained about it for months. How every resident of every house for 2 blocks down the street erupted in fits of uncontrollable sneezing. Cats ran away. And didn’t come back.  The fat lady next door had to be hospitalized, but she lost 20 pounds in a week long sneezing fit. Two older gentlemen also had to be hospitalized after a fight that broke out when one of them sneezed the poker pot off the table.  When I heard some of the serious complaints people had about the mysterious storm, I didn’t have the heart to complain about my measly loss of 3 Kg. of black pepper. 

Then one day when my brother in law and I were out watching the kids play soccer he brought out a grocery bag and we lazed back in our lawn chairs with two kinds of cheese, some pepperoni  and some crackers.  It was a great impromptu lunch. The real thing he gave me that afternoon however, was later at home. When we got back to the house with our respective sons, soccer sweat and muddy boots, he complained to my wife, (his sister), that he had eaten enough cheese to wreck 3 years worth of Metamucil. The light in the attic suddenly shone bright. I had an idea. Cheese worked like a plug. I know exactly where a plug like that could be useful.  That night I bought 3 kilos of mild Cheddar.

The dog didn’t like cheddar. It ignored the cheddar. 

This was strange for me.  I remembered when I was a kid, my dog, loved cheese. My Norwegian relatives sent us some Norwegian “Gamel Ost” one year. (“Gamel Ost” translates rather innocently to 'Old Cheese') This translation doesn’t carry with it the mortal fear children in Norway have for this dark brown cheese with the strong odor and bite like a rabid snake.  We have boogey men. They have “Gamel Ost”. When the parcel delivery guy arrived with a package from my mothers Norwegian cousins, my dog barked and wagged its tail with obvious excitement. And the package had been triple wrapped in cellophane and sprayed with 'Evening in Paris' eau de toilette. As we unwrapped it layer by layer, the poor mongrel Border collie had gotten increasingly wild. When we opened the top of the box we got the full force of a smell enhanced by a month-long unrefrigerated trip across the North Atlantic. The sweet concentrated odor of sweat socks and sewer treatment plants wafted past our nostrils summoning tears of sentimental joy.  My father said "What the Hell… "(He never swore.) And tossed the whole package including two beautiful Norwegian Sweaters as far as he could out the back door toward the alley.  The dog was in full stride when it went between his legs and jumped a full 10 feet from the back steps. The cardboard packaging was ripped to shreds by the time I got to the door to watch. “Lady” was rolling deliciously in the brown and green ‘eau de Toilette de Chien” (translate that ‘Canine Evening in Paris’).  That was the year the Skunks fled the town and the porcupines all lost their quills. Since that week (that seemed like a year) I have known that dogs love cheese. And the greater the smell the greater the desire.   But I digress. Suffice it to say, I needed more smell. 

The next day I went to the German Grocery Store. I had seen Special Scandinavian cheeses there once before.  I was in luck they still had the same package of “Gamel Ost”. (I remember the date was from 3 years previous to the first visit.)... .. This “Gamle Ost” was OLD!!   … And it still had its special sale price. . Much cheaper than the pepper.   But it was only about 500 grams. I needed more. I decided I would have to mix it with the cheddar. So I went to the army surplus store for a gas mask.

Two trial asphyxiations and three baths in salt water later, the mixed cheese casserole (the added oatmeal was the piece of resistance) was done. It was on the newly fenced off lawn.  The paint was blistering on that side of the house when the neighbor let his dog out. In a split second it was rolling in the cheese. In spite of the wider spread of the smell, the blistering paint and the pack of hungry dogs coming up the street, I smiled. I watched when the greedy monstrosity gulped down all 5 and a half kilos of thick “eau de Paris” soufflĂ©.   

We didn’t get much sleep that night. Cause the dog spent the night in the neighbor's back yard howling its head off.  I got up and marinated two kilo of ground beef in Castor oil!  I also added all four bottles of Cod Liver Oil capsules collected by my Norwegian mother in Walmart’s big anniversary ‘vitamin – price blow out’ .. 5 years ago.  I let the whole slimy mess ‘age’ for 5 or 10 minutes. It was about 6 AM when I tossed the very oily raw hamburger over the back fence. The dog quieted down for a bit. About an hour later I heard the neighbor swearing up a storm as he entered the back yard sporting a snazzy new gas mask. (More expensive than the one I bought) He used his electric hair clippers to shear the beast before using plenty of soap and water to excise the dog perfume.  I was surprised how quietly the dog stood. I watch quietly well behind the screen door on my side of the back fence. The pleasant smell of talcum powder and Lifebuoy soap mixed with the smell of burning hair and roasting cheese exuded an ambivalent ambiance. After vomiting 3 times, I sealed the back door and nailed it shut.  I watched from the side window, waiting for the inevitable. 

My waiting was in vain. The man didn’t complain about any dog crap so I assumed that the cheese was not going to surrender to the hamburger easily. .. Nothing had happened. Finally after the sun had been up long enough to dry the dog off, Hyde let the moaning dog into the house.  I could see that he had sheered the dog like a sheep. … It was moving a bit more sluggishly but Hyde gave no complaints.  So, obviously, the dog smelled better and hadn't changed the atmosphere… yet. 

Pondering the uneventful clean up process, I was suddenly STRUCK WITH TERROR!!!!  Any minute now that dog was going to scratch at the front door to be let out to do its thing, IN MY FRONT YARD!!!!  .. Crap and double crap.   What could I do?

I panicked.  We were all going to die! I only had one gas mask. We had to move fast.  I mean really move!  Pack up our belongings. Armageddon was here. It was time for the Exodus. A smell worse than fire and brimstone with sulfur flavoring would soon permeate the yard.  No one would buy our house. Visions of Chernobyl! 

The need to defend my castle came next. How could I meet the invader at the hedgerow? Where were my Tiger Tanks? Did we have any bear spray left over from holidays? Maybe I could hold off the beast. A sword. A cross bow? Anything??? And then it came to me. Pepper.  Maybe it would work after all. .. I raced to the kitchen… and raided the spice cupboard until I found a small half full spice bottle of black pepper bottle.  It would have to do. I was at war. 

I raced from the house and bounded over the intervening hedge. .. Almost tripping as I caught my foot on the branches, I landed on one foot and kept going as I stooped running under his picture window to his front step.  I quickly dumped the half bottle of black pepper in a pile on the ‘Welcome’ mat.  I turned and headed for the hedge, stooping under the picture window and doing a swan dive over the top. Somersaulting to my feet and looking for my garden shovel to fend the beast off.

The shovel was by the flower bed beside the house. I scurried back just in time to hear the neighbors front door opening.  I braced for the onslaught. The dog or I would be dead! Looking through a small gap in the hedge I watched as the dog stuck its head out the door. It stopped and sniffed. It then lowered its head and got a good whiff of the strange material it smelled. And it sneezed. And did it sneeze!!!! It backed into the house in panic. ..The screen door slammed shut but the inside door was still open as I heard it heave and belch in great lung crushing sneezes. Gut squeezing sneezes. Sphincter loosening sneezes.  Great brown pneumatic shooting sneezes. I heard chaos. Hyde was swearing. I heard a dog yelping between sneezes as it ran over, behind, and under furniture to avoid its angry master. I heard a continued sneezing combined with the crashing sound as furniture seemed to come alive it a mad dash to get out of the way. A lamp crashed. Through the window I saw Hyde slip and fall.   Visions of Chernobyl reentered my head! I smiled.  

Hyde moved out. I heard the dog was given to a Newfoundland Elk Rancher. His house was up for sale for over 6 months but it finally sold.  The new neighbor was an opportunist who bought it as a fixer upper to be flipped. He did major renovations to get rid of the ambiance of the former resident. He finally sold for a loss when the market fell. The older couple who finally got the house more than a year later, are great neighbors. They have two yappy little Maltese dogs and a kitty litter box.