Tag Archives: humor

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Cosmo-ly Hell (warning- things go south quickly… literally and figuratively)

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This month’s issue of Cosmopolitan made me wonder why my girlfriend gave me a subscription to this in the first place. Fashion and make up tips? Fine.

But, hey… I don’t have a post pandemic sex bucket list and don’t plan on making one any time soon.

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But if I did?

I can assure you this wouldn’t be on it.

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Good grief. I’ve been known to blog about my trips to the grocery store… but I seriously doubt anyone wants to read about that happening in the middle of aisle 12.

After the bucket list, there was a list of commonly asked questions.

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I don’t know about you, but that’s not something I commonly ask.

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And I can guaran-damn-tee you I’ve never asked that!!

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I’m not going to show the answers to that one, you’ll never look at the contents of your kitchen cabinets the same way, but I’ll leave you with this more than slightly suggestive accompanying photo.

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This.

This is what passes for a woman’s magazine these days.

Hell, I’m not a prude… but it seems like these articles would be more suited to Hustler or Gynecologist’s Quarterly.

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I love my town.

15 Comments

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And their wacky Facebook Group postings.

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Cat damage and springs that poke your butt?

Hurry up people, these won’t last long!

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A noisy big yellow machine. I shall follow this thread and report back. Who knows… maybe it’s the Beatles’ long lost submarine.

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Christ. Don’t tell my husband!

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You may not know what it feels like to fall off the turnip truck, but in my town… apparently you can fall off the potato one.

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This is a running gag because certain parts of our town lose power quite easily. Flatulent rodents will probably strike here next, stay tuned

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Sadly, I know of no retail chicken establishments.

Wonder if I could talk them into a few clever and highly motivated red squirrels instead?

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Pandemic humor.

14 Comments

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Let’s keep laughing for as long as we can.

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Me neither.

And that’s just wrong!

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Personally, I would love a pet skunk. They’re affectionate and trainable to a litter box. We have them visit under our bird feeders every night and they are absolutely, positively, frickin’ adorable! But Maine made it illegal to capture and de-scent the little buggers years ago, so boo to that.

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Yup.

That looks about right.

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Pulp Fiction – 2020 style.

And if you don’t believe in masks but are still responsible enough to wear one?

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Voice your protest responsibly.

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And for the record? My hips don’t either…

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Products you’re too embarrassed to admit you want.

29 Comments

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But I know you do.

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Admit it, we’ve all wanted to feel a little warmer and cheesier this year.

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This gives a whole new meaning to the word shortcake.

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Skin as soft and supple as a nice juicy brain? What woman doesn’t dream of that!

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I have to admit this one might have validity. We live next to a horse farm and see our fair share of flies. A real life arcade game with salt bullets… hmm.

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Are you one of those people?

33 Comments

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You know the ones, they pick up every free paper or publication they see no matter the subject?

Proctologist Monthly?

Yes.

Belt Sander Enthusiast?

Sure.

The Do It Yourself Lobotomy Newsletter?

Why not.

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It probably won’t surprise my regular readers to learn my husband is one of those people.

Free is his favorite word.. which is why he came home with one called the Maine Agricultural News the other day.

My husband, the man who’s never planted anything (other than free trees he lets die) in his life.

Here are a few fascinating highlights:

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Color me proud. My state is one of the top 5 potato chip potato producers.

And lord knows I do my part to keep the Lays company in business.

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The Pomological Society? There’s a sought after membership if ever I saw one.

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For those who don’t know, Maine blueberries are highly prized and big business up this way.

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But thanks to President Trump’s Chinese trade war, among other things… the berry news is decidedly blue.

And finally, disaster.

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Say it isn’t so!

Maine craft brewers have cut back on the production of beer to make hand sanitizer?

Oh, the horror.

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Why does he make everything twice as difficult as it has to be?

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We have a barn that really isn’t a barn. What started out as storage space for motorcycles and lawn mowers has morphed into a custom built man cave… and now that the man cave has a heat pump? The upstairs has to be temporarily blocked off for winter before the staircase turns into a chimney.

This should have been a simple project.

I told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam. The heat pump installer told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam. The friend that helps him now and then told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam.

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Which is why the husband made a hinged door out of zip siding.

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Did I mention the husband doesn’t like to be told what to do?

After a laborious day of cursing and figuring and adjusting and fitting and more cursing….

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The husband came home to cut a piece of insulation foam.

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Which he wanted to attach to that hinged door of zip siding.

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This involved more measuring and cutting ..

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And fitting and pushing and removing and more measuring and cutting.

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Please note the non OSHA approved chunk of wood dismantling the saw’s safety feature.

More fitting.

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More measuring and cutting.

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More fitting.

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Halfway through the process, Mike Pence stopped by to say hello.

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And finally after I helped him measure, cut and fit for 3 hours to no avail… I snuck out.

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For the sake of my sanity…. as well as our marriage.

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Another classic!

30 Comments

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You’ll be sorry you missed this one.

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So bad it was good.

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Mad scientists at work.

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They were attempting to shrink some shrews, but something went wrong.

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Terribly wrong.

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Which is why this fellow bellied up to the bar.

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The shrew’s poisonous saliva killed this guy.

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So our hero shot it.

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But look!

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Another one is chewing through the wall.

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Yeah, sure. The couch will stop it.

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That fellow is now behind the bar and I don’t blame him. Drink up boyo, they’re coming.

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An escape plan is hatched with welded together oil drums.

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Our heroine looks out but doesn’t like what she sees.

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( The giant shrews? Skinny dogs with glued on tails and bizarre fur.)

Low budget cinema at it’s best.

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Only the hero, heroine and mad doctor manage to duck walk the drums to the water’s edge.

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Where they swim for the boat…

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And prattle on about over population of a species that had absolutely nothing to do with the plot.

The shrews?

They’re left behind on the island to eat each other until none are left.

There’s a moral there somewhere….

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When in doubt, wear red.

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I just realized I haven’t posted a photo of the big barn since the staining and painting were completed.

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Needless to say I’m very pleased.

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The nice thing is, the husband was pleased as well.

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I know this because I overheard him talking to the painter saying he wasn’t sure he would like a red barn and that he’d fought his wife over it… boy did he!… but in the end, even he had to admit it looked great.

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Technically it’s not totally done, as the crew is going to box in the eaves on the overhang. But in Maine, you have to paint until the weather turns, so they’ll be back another day to finish that.

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My porch furniture cushions also need to be recovered in a fabric that doesn’t clash.

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But baby barn approves.

And we have a red and white barn!

Yay.

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I love my town.

18 Comments

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And I love their Facebook group page.

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A moo disorder?

More likely the poster has a Budweiser disorder.

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Okaaaay.

I’m not sure what Doug did to rate a shout out, but I’ll go with it.

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Damn. All I have under my bed is dust bunnies… where’s the fun in that?

Here’s a random photo of ducks that were for sale at our local hardware store. I’m always tempted to bring home a few when the husband sends me up there for screws.

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Now there’s a platform no one can argue with.

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You do, you really do.

Does anyone know where I can score one of those beauties?

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