Tag Archives: drivers

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Fibbing Friday #281

Last week, Pensitivity101 hoped that we could get our fibbering hats on for this batch………….

1.Why did the chicken cross the road?

Because her friends were egging her on

2. Why are eggs oval in shape?

Because they’re a lot easier to lay than square ones.  If you think chickens squawk now….

3. Who said Humpty Dumpty was an egg?

Everybody who had Western omelets for brunch

4. What is fumigate?

A minor political scandal that took place in a seedy, rundown hotel in New Jersey

5. What is a wuss?

It’s a code word that means that the person who used it is socially illiterate and inept, and should be avoided if at all possible.

6. What is a spotter?

….Uh, something about Bill Clinton, and a blue dress

7. What is the speed of light?

It’s about how quickly green turns to orange, and orange becomes red, stranding me, while Willy the Wanderer blithely proceeds through, in front of an oncoming garbage truck.

8. What is a hangover?

See the definition of saga from last week.  I put a roof over my tool shed.

9. What is a grammy?

Definitely not my Mother’s Mother.  That lady was a stern and (Protestant) God-fearing woman, who insisted on respect and propriety, and whom I always addressed as Grandma.

10. What is Lycra?

It’s a plucked, string instrument, used by Erato and The Muses, to compose and perform the best Rock music in ancient Athens.

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’24 A To Z Challenge – I

Not to sound too negative or anything, but this week’s word is one of those words that doesn’t seem to have a positive.  I’m talking about

INEFFABLE

There, I said wrote it.  It does seem to be one of those negative words, that doesn’t have a positive for.  I have a whole list of them that I’m gonna do a post about – after I finish my procrastination practice.

Actually, the word effable does exist, although it’s even more rare than ‘ineffable’.  I thought at first that it was to describe many people’s driving skills, but it turns out to mean, utterable, expressible.  Too many of them have the word/name ‘Jesus’ on the back of their cars, so that’s the expression that I utter.  “Jesus!!  Who the eff taught you to drive – Crash Bandicoot??”

Ineffable then, just means that a thing is too…. something – holy, or horrible, to be expressed or described in words.  That’s when I resort to sign language, one finger at a time.  Thumbs-up to you though, if you show up here on Friday.  😀

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Keeping An Eye On You

Old age is upon me, and The Game is beginning to be played a bit differently.  I turn 80 in September.  The Province of Ontario, in an attempt to reduce the number of incompetent drivers, insists that I be retested soon, and every two years.

I still think that I am as good a driver as most, and better than far too many, if a little aggressive.  My only worry was about my eyesight.  It continues to decline.  Recently, I had my yearly checkup with my ophthalmologist.  The technician asked if I had noticed any deterioration.  I said NO.  She then ran some tests, and showed me what I had not noticed.

After retinal surgery several years ago, I received a new, plastic lens in my right eye.  The vision is clear, except for a small divot/dead zone in the center.  I rely on ‘averaging’ with my left eye.  The tests showed that cataracts were clouding the left lens, so that my vision was down to 20/50, the Province’s limit.  The eye doc told me that she will schedule me for day surgery, to insert a new, plastic lens in the left eye, some time in June or July, depending on the hospital’s schedule.  This will give me time to heal and adapt, by my birthday.

I recently spoke to a lady who had just turned 81, and went through this last year.  She said that all they had her do was draw an analog clock, showing 10:15….  W.T.F!?  My Osteopath told me that she went through this with her mother and her progressive dementia.  Often, they don’t even check vision.  They are more worried about loss of cognitive ability on the roads.  As the son says, if you can’t find your car keys, that’s just memory.  If you don’t know what car keys do, they want you off the roads.

I was willing to draw a digital clock, with two squares and some numbers, but they insist on a circle, a center dot, a big hand and a little hand.  Anyone our age should remember what they look like.  With the lens/vision situation taken care of, I feel fairly confident, even if the retesting is more complex.

I’ll keep you updated, to know whether I’m allowed to do more driving than just making other people crazy.  So, Here’s lookin’ at you, kid. Soon.

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Church Humor

A friend was in front of me coming out of church one day, and the preacher was standing at the door as he always is, to shake hands. He grabbed my friend by the hand and pulled him aside.

The Pastor said to him, “You need to join the Army of the Lord!”

My friend replied, “I’m already in the Army of the Lord, Pastor.”

Pastor questioned, “How come I don’t see you except at Christmas and Easter?”

He whispered back, “I’m in the secret service.”

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An atheist scientist came to God and said, “We’ve figured out how to make a man without you.”

God said, “OK, let me see you do it.”

So the atheist bent down to the ground and scooped up a handful. But God stopped him and said, “Oh, no you don’t. Get your own dirt!”

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My wife is in the other room explaining to the cat that even though we are going to bed early, he (the cat) is welcome to stay up.

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I saw a bumper sticker today that said, “I am a veterinarian, therefore I can drive like an animal.”  Suddenly, I realized how many proctologists are on the roads….

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My teacher told me not to worry about spelling, because in the future there will be autocorrect, and for that, I am eternally grapefruit.

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A man goes to the cinema and is surprised to see a pig sitting in the seat next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked the pig.

“Well, I enjoyed the book”.

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The wife pulled a little prank on me the other day.  She put all my stuff where I couldn’t find it.  She put my shoes in the shoe closet; put my jacket on a hanger, and my keys on the key-hook.

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A teenage girl had been talking on the phone for about half an hour, and then she hung up.
“Wow!,” said her father, “That was short. You usually talk for two hours. What happened?”
“Wrong number,” replied the girl.

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Flash Fiction #248

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

THE MALE MUST GO THROUGH

The late, great, Bob Bryant.

Well, the only thing he was great at, was being late.  He was born almost two weeks after his due date, and never caught up.

He was late for breakfast, late for classes, late to get his drivers’ licence, and late for his senior prom.  His Mother told him that he’d be late for his own funeral.  If he’d shuffled his feet faster, he’d have been on the sidewalk, instead of shuffling off to Buffalo, in front of that bus.

Here he was, returning from the crematorium.  With COVID-delayed postal delivery, Mom would be right.

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Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

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A Poem About My First Car

Poetry

SDC10575

There won’t be much poem
I had to tow the thing home

It was a dark British green
An ugly shade to be seen

It was never much fun
The damned thing wouldn’t run

It was a ’52 Morris
It wouldn’t start for us

I got it for free
The owner overcharged me

It came home from a farm
The chickens did it some harm

We towed it home with a rope
I never had any hope

I didn’t take time to love it
I just quickly said ‘Shove it’

Mr. Snake-Oil did offer
An older trade he did proffer

vauxhall

I can’t think of a rhyme for ‘learning experience.’  If you haven’t already, but would like to read about my early automotive adventures, click to go back to read about My First Cars.

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Yuletide Celebrations

BAH!  BLOODY HUMBUG!

I am soooo glad it’s all over for another year!  The worship of the Great God Commerce dials back till it’s just a dull roar.

 

What?  Too much, too soon?

As the most fascinating man on Earth, I don’t always listen to the radio in the living room or the car, but when I do, I want to hear some classic rock and roll.  This all-Christmas-songs, all-the-time, for 7 or 8 weeks, on all four locally available stations, gets old fast.  Like, right after the second time Gramma Got Run Over By A Reindeer is played on the American Thanksgiving.

I turn the radio off, and start plugging CDs into my five-disc player.  You’ll read about our cookie-making marathons.  I need six hours of non-Christmas in my ear.  We’ve got a half-dozen Rankin Family albums, and another half-dozen Jeff Foxworthy discs.  Christmas is the only time of year we play them.  Include some Jethro Tull and The Guess Who, and we’re good till New Years.

We went grocery shopping one day.  Shortly after we entered, the Muzak started playing The Twelve Days of Christmas.  With the ever-expanding twelve choruses, that song just goes On and On.  I piled a hundred dollars worth of stuff into the cart, and they were still whining about rings and calling birds.  We headed for the cashiers just as they finally came to an end.  Apparently on a random mix, the next song up was….The Twelve Days of Christmas – by a different group.  Check me out, quick, before I check-out on my own.

The streets and roads are back to being inhabited by just the usual batch of stupid incompetents.  I can almost get where I’m going, because all the soccer-moms, who don’t know how to drive their soccer-mom-vans, aren’t plugging the streets and parking lots, and obscuring my sight-lines.  Once, when the son was just learning to drive, I bitched (What a surprise!) about hating to be behind vans and pickups.  Now that he drives regularly himself, he admitted the other day that he understands what I was upset about.

Christmas lights, that’s the least we can do to celebrate the season – literally the least we can do.  An ego-stroking waste of electricity.  There are two homes, side by side, somewhere in Connecticut, which both look like Chevy Chase’s, Christmas Vacation house, with the bearings on the power meter smoking from the RPMs.  Each year, both owners added more and more lights, in an attempt to outdo each other.  Finally, this year, sanity prevailed.  One of the owners put up only one string of lights, forming an arrow, and the word, “Ditto!”

The Sikhs across the street look like a Las Vegas casino.  I put up one little light-decorated wreath outside the downstairs powder-room window….and often forget to plug it in till nine or ten PM.  With all the demons and gargoyles we have in the gardens, it’s a surprise we haven’t had carolling groups which included torches and pitchforks.

I really put the *cur* in curmudgeon.  I’m not against giving presents or getting the family together for a visit and a meal.  If it’s someone’s birthday, or anniversary, give a present.  I just don’t want to be standing beside some guy while I’m just trying to buy a newspaper, and have his pants burn down because his credit card exploded.  Want a “family meal?”  Pick a day and invite the family over.  Depending on the size of your family, it might be less stressful for everyone, to have smaller groups.

Too many people fall victim to the idea that they’re “obligated” to participate in this exercise in excess, and then feel overwhelmed, and somehow a failure.  Something worth doing is not necessarily worth overdoing.  This thing is getting out of hand.  The best of intentions is producing the worst of results.  It really is no wonder that other faiths, other countries and other cultures hate us.  We could be so much more, with so much less.

Peace and love to you all, quietly, sincerely, without all the fuss.