It’s been awhile since writing a Friday Night Funny story, and the muse was upon me so I decided to type out another. OK, so I am posting this on a Sunday, so we’ll consider this a FNF a couple days late.
In the 90’s I hung around a lot with my pal Brian. Though back in the day he spelled it Brien. He was like me in some ways and unlike me in many others, which I think is the basis of a good friendship.
One time, we went to see a movie. I can’t seem to remember the title. We had gotten there early, so we had to wait until they were ready to let us in. We played some video games, and then got a couple of sodas. He got a Dr. Pepper, and I got a Coke. We then sat in the lobby and waited until they were ready.
The sodas were the same size and looked identical. I took up what I thought was my soda, and began to take a sip. Immediately I realized that I grabbed Brien’s Dr. Pepper instead of my Coke. Slowly and as carefully as I could I laid down his soda exactly where it was.
I think Brien was reading something and seemed distracted, so I got away with it. Then I hear him remark, “So how was that Dr. Pepper?”. Damn! Apparently I learned then that I am not as slick as I thought I was.
The funniest moment though was at a Best Buy store. Being a tech nerd it remains one of my favorite places to shop. Brien went with me one day, and we were looking though CDs. With Brien being at least 10 years my younger, we definitely had some different tastes in music.
For some unknown reason, the discussion that Brien and I had in the record department turned into a light argument. Brien maintained that I knew nothing of the latest decade in music. I admit being a child of the 80s, that music will always be a part of me. However, Brien chooses to criticize me for not opening my mind to more modern music of the 90s.
I admit that I listen to some modern tunes, even today. There is some stuff I like, but most of the modern music coming out is not what I would call quality.
Brien set through a challenge. Music was playing in the Best Buy store, and Brien said to me, “I bet you don’t even know what artist is playing the song that is playing.”
I listened to the music intensely, and after the song was over, I remarked, “It sounds like Garbage to me”
Brien’s jaw completely dropped and eyes widened in surprised, and got a bit of a stammer in his voice when he said “yeah, yeah, that’s right. How did you know?”
I responded, “It just sounded like Garbage to me”.
Then Brien got a bit of a questioning look to his face, not quite believing me, and rephrased his question, “No, how did you know that the band’s name was Garbage?”
“There’s a band named Garbage?” I said.
We laughed about the confusion, and I got a complete lesson in the alternative rock band Garbage.
Showing posts with label Friday Night Funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friday Night Funny. Show all posts
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, September 24, 2010
FNF: Open Mouth Insert Foot
This week’s FNF is rather short, but they do take longer to set up than facebook would allow me to post there. So here we go…
I am sure everyone had those moments where you said something that maybe you shouldn’t have, catching yourself later. These are two such circumstances.
The first one happened very recently, last weekend in fact. I finally decided on getting another gaming system. I am totally against Microsoft after purchasing my Zune only to have it totally die on me. Also, I have heard and seen the “red rings of death” on the Xbox. So I believe that Microsoft can’t make decent hardware and won’t buy an Xbox, even though the games look very attractive.
I decided on a Nintendo Wii. I have to admit that I like the way you wave the wand around and it way it reacts. Even a simple game of bowling is made fun with it. Plus Netflix works on the Wii, so that is a plus there as well.
So I walk into Wal-Mart last weekend to look at a Nintendo Wii game system. I go to the glass counter, and I see they have two. However, something is different, these are black. Before I decided on purchasing one, I wanted to make sure that it was as good (if not better) than the traditional white one I have seen before.
The case is locked, so I need to find someone to help me. I go to the electronics counter and wait for an available salesperson. A dark skinned African-American sales associate was at the counter. Without thinking I blurt out… “Hello, I would like to see your BLACK Wii (wee) please.” … I then stumbled, because although the gentleman was attractive I was not hitting on him… and then quickly recovered “the Nintendo Wii in the case, I would like to take a look”. I don’t think he caught it, or didn’t call attention to my remark. He got another associate with keys to show me to the case, and I bought one.
The next stumble happened some time ago. For all the restaurant chains in Columbus, there aren’t a lot of Long John Silver seafood restaurants. I have to travel a bit to get to the one closest to where I live.
At the time, they were having a special called the “Boatload of Seafood” which included basically everything from fish, shrimp, clams, etc etc. It looked good.
So I get up to the counter, look the cashier right in the eyes and place my order for a “BUTTLOAD of Seafood”. Apparently my filthy mind decided to take over. I was embarrassed, but the cashier admitted it was a more common mistake than I thought and we had a bit of a laugh about it.
Words are fun, and even when we stumble on them, they can be more fun.
The trick is having the ability to laugh at yourself about it later.
I am sure everyone had those moments where you said something that maybe you shouldn’t have, catching yourself later. These are two such circumstances.
The first one happened very recently, last weekend in fact. I finally decided on getting another gaming system. I am totally against Microsoft after purchasing my Zune only to have it totally die on me. Also, I have heard and seen the “red rings of death” on the Xbox. So I believe that Microsoft can’t make decent hardware and won’t buy an Xbox, even though the games look very attractive.
I decided on a Nintendo Wii. I have to admit that I like the way you wave the wand around and it way it reacts. Even a simple game of bowling is made fun with it. Plus Netflix works on the Wii, so that is a plus there as well.
So I walk into Wal-Mart last weekend to look at a Nintendo Wii game system. I go to the glass counter, and I see they have two. However, something is different, these are black. Before I decided on purchasing one, I wanted to make sure that it was as good (if not better) than the traditional white one I have seen before.
The case is locked, so I need to find someone to help me. I go to the electronics counter and wait for an available salesperson. A dark skinned African-American sales associate was at the counter. Without thinking I blurt out… “Hello, I would like to see your BLACK Wii (wee) please.” … I then stumbled, because although the gentleman was attractive I was not hitting on him… and then quickly recovered “the Nintendo Wii in the case, I would like to take a look”. I don’t think he caught it, or didn’t call attention to my remark. He got another associate with keys to show me to the case, and I bought one.
The next stumble happened some time ago. For all the restaurant chains in Columbus, there aren’t a lot of Long John Silver seafood restaurants. I have to travel a bit to get to the one closest to where I live.
At the time, they were having a special called the “Boatload of Seafood” which included basically everything from fish, shrimp, clams, etc etc. It looked good.
So I get up to the counter, look the cashier right in the eyes and place my order for a “BUTTLOAD of Seafood”. Apparently my filthy mind decided to take over. I was embarrassed, but the cashier admitted it was a more common mistake than I thought and we had a bit of a laugh about it.
Words are fun, and even when we stumble on them, they can be more fun.
The trick is having the ability to laugh at yourself about it later.
Friday, August 20, 2010
FNF: No Substitute for Class
After I graduated college, the job market was bad. Very similar to how bad the job market is now. At the time, I was able to find a part time job working at Liberty Mutual Insurance Company.
The job basically became a dead end, with no hopes of going to full time or movement anywhere in the company. So I needed to leave and find something else. But what?
Then I thought of going to become a substitute teacher. Nice flexible hours, easy to cancel if I had an interview. A prime job for someone to look for a prime job. My Mom had substituted before with great success, so it was time for me to give it a try.
My first assignment was for Physical Education. A bit of a disappointment since PE was never my kind of class. In point of fact it was the class I hated the most. Still, I took the assignment thinking that the kids would be doing most of the actual exercise, and most of the coaches I had growing up that taught PE were chubbier and more out of shape than I.
The challenge though is this PE class was at a place called the Family Children’s Center (FCC) in Mishawaka Indiana. It was a facility for troubled youth, with serious behavioral problems. Again, not really daunted by that either.
So I get there to teach PE, and was told where the gym and the coach’s office was. Walked into the office and found the notes the coach left. You’ll never guess what sport they were doing: DODGE BALL.
OK, let’s take some behaviorally challenged junior high age students. We are dealing with severe emotional problems as well as hormones causing their system to go completely bonkers. Now we are going to give them inflatable balls and actually telling them to smack each other with them.
Plus lets give this to the new substitute whose first day of teaching. Ain’t gonna happen!
So I talk to the other coach as well as the teaching assistants telling them no dodge ball. One suggests they use the weight room. First, I had no training in what to do with weights myself and felt uncomfortable. Second, the prospect of these emotionally challenged kids having access to large metal objects didn’t seem like a good idea either. If you can imagine how I felt about one of them throwing a rubber ball, I am sure you understand my fear of them throwing a five-pound weight. Again, ain’t gonna happen!
They wound up doing basic calisthenics and running around the gym. Safety first!
Later I had a discussion with the teacher, and he was apologetic. Apparently there was a regular TA (teaching assistant) that actually ran the class in his absence. That TA was out that day too. While they did do dodge ball apparently it was only with three balls, and it was a set of oversized ones that couldn’t really be tossed with much velocity. Apparently these larger balls were locked up too so I could have only gotten the smaller ones, most of them under inflated and could reach almost terminal velocity.
I would wind up teaching Junior High, and Special Education classes a lot, and had a lot of assignments at the FCC. Though that was the last attempt I made at PE at the FCC.
Later on, there would be another assignment at the FCC. Special Education from the substitute teacher’s perspective is extremely boring. A lot of the time the students are just doing deskwork and no real class to teach. Once in awhile the occasional question. I found myself doing a lot of reading.
The Special Ed classes would always have TAs to help with the discipline issues, of which there were many. Sometimes children would need to be physically restrained because they were in danger of hurting themselves and others.
OK, so I am in a class and the students are doing their deskwork. A student asked me for a pencil because he had some math to do. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I mean if someone asks you for a pencil, don’t you give them a pencil?
I go to the teacher’s desk and find a pencil. I then start making my way to the kid’s desk and start to hand him the pencil. Out of nowhere I hear a shout of “NO!” and one of the teaching assistants jumps up and grabs the pencil out of my hand.
Later on, I heard from the TA that the student once took a pencil and jammed it into a substitute’s arm for no apparent reason. What is this? Hannibal Lecter Jr. High?
After that my fears on the PE class seemed entirely justified. If a pencil is a weapon then so are metal weights and rubber balls.
After I got accustomed more to the setting and the rules, my days teaching at the FCC were very enjoyable and rewarding. While the kids had some serious emotional control issues, they were interested in learning, and there were some brilliant young minds there.
But the hilarious story was not at the FCC, but at a regular Junior High School…
See once they find out you are willing to substitute teach Jr. High and Special Ed, you become a very busy person. Not a lot of substitutes want to take those assignments.
As luck would have it a teacher was out for a whole week and I got the assignment for that whole week. Money is good, and after my experience at the FCC I was ready for anything.
I forget his name, but we will call him Jacob. Jacob was a bit of a problem that week. He had this thing about spit balls. He loved to hit the other students with them. Of course I tried telling him to stop, caught him several times, even sent him to the Principal’s Office. The other students were relieved because they were tired of it.
So it’s my last day at this assignment, and other than Jacob it has been a model class with no problems. And the last day there are a series of tests. I warn all the students that there will be no talking or interruptions of any kind during the tests. If there is, I told them I would confiscate the paper and they would have to talk to their regular teacher about a retake of the test.
Jacob actually was doing his test work… when suddenly THWACK!
A spitball hits Jacob. He starts to turn around in his desk to see who it was. To which I tell him “keep your eye on your own paper”.
Again he goes back to work… and then suddenly another THWACK!
Right in the back of the neck! Again he turns around, and this time complains that someone is hitting him with spitballs.
I respond, “I will keep my eye on you and if I see anyone shooting spitballs at you, they will go to the Principals office”.
Again, back to his work…. and another THWACK!
He jumps up and asks me if I saw anything. He then accuses two other students that were behind him of spitballs. I didn’t see anything and told him that I think he wass imagining things to cause a disruption, and if that is his game he can go to the Principal’s office.
The next three times… THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! He just sat there and took the spitballs.
At that point, I gently put the hollowed out pen I hid in my right hand back into the teacher’s desk. And discarded the remaining spitballs I had made.
Apparently no one ever suspects it was the substitute teacher that would do such a thing.
Revenge was mine and justice was served.
I would find out later from Jacob’s regular teacher that Jacob had stopped with the spitballs. So apparently it taught him a little about how it felt to be on the other end.
The job basically became a dead end, with no hopes of going to full time or movement anywhere in the company. So I needed to leave and find something else. But what?
Then I thought of going to become a substitute teacher. Nice flexible hours, easy to cancel if I had an interview. A prime job for someone to look for a prime job. My Mom had substituted before with great success, so it was time for me to give it a try.
My first assignment was for Physical Education. A bit of a disappointment since PE was never my kind of class. In point of fact it was the class I hated the most. Still, I took the assignment thinking that the kids would be doing most of the actual exercise, and most of the coaches I had growing up that taught PE were chubbier and more out of shape than I.
The challenge though is this PE class was at a place called the Family Children’s Center (FCC) in Mishawaka Indiana. It was a facility for troubled youth, with serious behavioral problems. Again, not really daunted by that either.
So I get there to teach PE, and was told where the gym and the coach’s office was. Walked into the office and found the notes the coach left. You’ll never guess what sport they were doing: DODGE BALL.
OK, let’s take some behaviorally challenged junior high age students. We are dealing with severe emotional problems as well as hormones causing their system to go completely bonkers. Now we are going to give them inflatable balls and actually telling them to smack each other with them.
Plus lets give this to the new substitute whose first day of teaching. Ain’t gonna happen!
So I talk to the other coach as well as the teaching assistants telling them no dodge ball. One suggests they use the weight room. First, I had no training in what to do with weights myself and felt uncomfortable. Second, the prospect of these emotionally challenged kids having access to large metal objects didn’t seem like a good idea either. If you can imagine how I felt about one of them throwing a rubber ball, I am sure you understand my fear of them throwing a five-pound weight. Again, ain’t gonna happen!
They wound up doing basic calisthenics and running around the gym. Safety first!
Later I had a discussion with the teacher, and he was apologetic. Apparently there was a regular TA (teaching assistant) that actually ran the class in his absence. That TA was out that day too. While they did do dodge ball apparently it was only with three balls, and it was a set of oversized ones that couldn’t really be tossed with much velocity. Apparently these larger balls were locked up too so I could have only gotten the smaller ones, most of them under inflated and could reach almost terminal velocity.
I would wind up teaching Junior High, and Special Education classes a lot, and had a lot of assignments at the FCC. Though that was the last attempt I made at PE at the FCC.
Later on, there would be another assignment at the FCC. Special Education from the substitute teacher’s perspective is extremely boring. A lot of the time the students are just doing deskwork and no real class to teach. Once in awhile the occasional question. I found myself doing a lot of reading.
The Special Ed classes would always have TAs to help with the discipline issues, of which there were many. Sometimes children would need to be physically restrained because they were in danger of hurting themselves and others.
OK, so I am in a class and the students are doing their deskwork. A student asked me for a pencil because he had some math to do. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I mean if someone asks you for a pencil, don’t you give them a pencil?
I go to the teacher’s desk and find a pencil. I then start making my way to the kid’s desk and start to hand him the pencil. Out of nowhere I hear a shout of “NO!” and one of the teaching assistants jumps up and grabs the pencil out of my hand.
Later on, I heard from the TA that the student once took a pencil and jammed it into a substitute’s arm for no apparent reason. What is this? Hannibal Lecter Jr. High?
After that my fears on the PE class seemed entirely justified. If a pencil is a weapon then so are metal weights and rubber balls.
After I got accustomed more to the setting and the rules, my days teaching at the FCC were very enjoyable and rewarding. While the kids had some serious emotional control issues, they were interested in learning, and there were some brilliant young minds there.
But the hilarious story was not at the FCC, but at a regular Junior High School…
See once they find out you are willing to substitute teach Jr. High and Special Ed, you become a very busy person. Not a lot of substitutes want to take those assignments.
As luck would have it a teacher was out for a whole week and I got the assignment for that whole week. Money is good, and after my experience at the FCC I was ready for anything.
I forget his name, but we will call him Jacob. Jacob was a bit of a problem that week. He had this thing about spit balls. He loved to hit the other students with them. Of course I tried telling him to stop, caught him several times, even sent him to the Principal’s Office. The other students were relieved because they were tired of it.
So it’s my last day at this assignment, and other than Jacob it has been a model class with no problems. And the last day there are a series of tests. I warn all the students that there will be no talking or interruptions of any kind during the tests. If there is, I told them I would confiscate the paper and they would have to talk to their regular teacher about a retake of the test.
Jacob actually was doing his test work… when suddenly THWACK!
A spitball hits Jacob. He starts to turn around in his desk to see who it was. To which I tell him “keep your eye on your own paper”.
Again he goes back to work… and then suddenly another THWACK!
Right in the back of the neck! Again he turns around, and this time complains that someone is hitting him with spitballs.
I respond, “I will keep my eye on you and if I see anyone shooting spitballs at you, they will go to the Principals office”.
Again, back to his work…. and another THWACK!
He jumps up and asks me if I saw anything. He then accuses two other students that were behind him of spitballs. I didn’t see anything and told him that I think he wass imagining things to cause a disruption, and if that is his game he can go to the Principal’s office.
The next three times… THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! He just sat there and took the spitballs.
At that point, I gently put the hollowed out pen I hid in my right hand back into the teacher’s desk. And discarded the remaining spitballs I had made.
Apparently no one ever suspects it was the substitute teacher that would do such a thing.
Revenge was mine and justice was served.
I would find out later from Jacob’s regular teacher that Jacob had stopped with the spitballs. So apparently it taught him a little about how it felt to be on the other end.
Friday, May 14, 2010
FNF: New York City Is All Porny
Another Friday, another Friday Night Funny story for me to post on my blog. Thank goodness there are no pictures, as the story is salacious enough.
As I wrote previously, my Granny was my best friend growing up as a kid. She was a special person in my life and taught me a lot. One of the things she taught me was the joy of travel. I was very lucky as a kid, having gone to both Disneyland and Disney World, Hawaii twice, London England, Paris France, and lots of other places with my Granny. This story is about our trip to New York City.
Granny worked in downtown Chicago at Lake Shore Bank on Michigan Avenue as a customer service representative. She knew Chicago, and thought since she could handle Chicago, New York City would be just a step up in size. I don’t know if she quite was ready for what NYC dished out.
I think I was about 12 years old when we made the trip to NYC. Granny booked the trip through a travel agent I think, but not exactly a tour package. I think the plan was to explore the big city for ourselves.
The first thing that caught my eye entering the hotel room was a strange device on the door. On the inside of the hotel door was a large metal bar, which reached from the middle of the door to the floor. I would later understand this to be a safety device to prevent someone from bashing down the door, but I hadn’t ever seen one before (or since).
The first couple of days were pure bliss. We toured the city, ate the food, and took in two Broadway musicals. One of those musicals was “The Wiz”. What was completely awesome was that the day after the show we met Stephanie Mills and two members of the cast on the streets of New York. They were really pleasant to two fans, asking us about the show.
The third day we were basically on our own. I was a huge fan of pinball back then and we went to the biggest arcade I ever saw in my life. More pinball machines than you can shake a stick at. I was in pinball heaven.
As we left the arcade, we walked the streets of New York looking at some of the shops and taking in the sites. I spotted another pinball machine, one that the arcade didn’t have. And of course it needed my quarter and needed to be played. I told Granny I was going to play, and she continued to look in the shops, knowing approximately where I would be heading.
I put in my quarter and started to play pinball. Apparently I didn’t at all look at where the pinball machine was located. I didn’t really care; I just wanted to play pinball. Granny gets done with the shop, and then comes to meet up with me.
She noticed something I didn’t, that the establishment that I walked into play pinball was a bar. And of course not just any bar. A bar where ladies take their tops off and expose their breasts. Her 12-year-old grandson was playing pinball in a topless bar!
She was sly and was able to get me away from the machine. Most importantly, she got me away from the machine without me even looking at one booby. And she would of almost made it if I didn’t put up a fuss about wanting to play pinball. She then explained to me that it wasn’t the right kind of place for a kid.
A little flustered by this small brush with naughtiness, Granny insisted we head back to the hotel room. I said OK, and was planning on watching some television.
The hotel television had a box connected to it where you could watch movies. I believe we were looking to see the movie “Oh God!” with George Burns, good wholesome family entertainment. I went ahead and pressed the buttons, and turned on the television set.
The TV took awhile to come on, apparently it was an older set and needed warming up. Then upon the screen I apparently saw a sight that I had missed in my previous experience. As the picture became clearer and clearer, there were jiggling breasts displayed on the screen. Granny lunges towards the television set and turns it off.
Apparently Granny was fearful of breasts, because in both cases she felt the urge to run away. So we had to leave our hotel room. We retreated to the arcade where there was an abundance of pinball and no bare breasts. I played pinball, Granny regained her composure, and then we left the arcade and started to walk around.
As I said in my previous story, Granny can’t resist a good Disney movie. So as we travel the streets we spot a movie theatre that sure enough one is playing a Disney movie classic. We go walking up to the theatre box office and Granny asks for two tickets, one adult and one child.
“Are you SURE you want to bring the kid into the theatre?”, says the man in the ticket booth.
Granny is surprised at such a question, and fires back, “Sure, why not? This is Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, right? It’s a kid’s movie.”
The man responds, “Lady, this movie is ALEX in Wonderland, and it is a pornographic movie. This ain’t no Disney film.”
Granny was flustered once again, and we headed back to the hotel room. No television of course. And headed back home the next day. It was an adventure to be sure, and while I think travel broadens horizons, I think this NYC trip added a few more gray hairs on Granny’s head.
The End.
As I wrote previously, my Granny was my best friend growing up as a kid. She was a special person in my life and taught me a lot. One of the things she taught me was the joy of travel. I was very lucky as a kid, having gone to both Disneyland and Disney World, Hawaii twice, London England, Paris France, and lots of other places with my Granny. This story is about our trip to New York City.
Granny worked in downtown Chicago at Lake Shore Bank on Michigan Avenue as a customer service representative. She knew Chicago, and thought since she could handle Chicago, New York City would be just a step up in size. I don’t know if she quite was ready for what NYC dished out.
I think I was about 12 years old when we made the trip to NYC. Granny booked the trip through a travel agent I think, but not exactly a tour package. I think the plan was to explore the big city for ourselves.
The first thing that caught my eye entering the hotel room was a strange device on the door. On the inside of the hotel door was a large metal bar, which reached from the middle of the door to the floor. I would later understand this to be a safety device to prevent someone from bashing down the door, but I hadn’t ever seen one before (or since).
The first couple of days were pure bliss. We toured the city, ate the food, and took in two Broadway musicals. One of those musicals was “The Wiz”. What was completely awesome was that the day after the show we met Stephanie Mills and two members of the cast on the streets of New York. They were really pleasant to two fans, asking us about the show.
The third day we were basically on our own. I was a huge fan of pinball back then and we went to the biggest arcade I ever saw in my life. More pinball machines than you can shake a stick at. I was in pinball heaven.
As we left the arcade, we walked the streets of New York looking at some of the shops and taking in the sites. I spotted another pinball machine, one that the arcade didn’t have. And of course it needed my quarter and needed to be played. I told Granny I was going to play, and she continued to look in the shops, knowing approximately where I would be heading.
I put in my quarter and started to play pinball. Apparently I didn’t at all look at where the pinball machine was located. I didn’t really care; I just wanted to play pinball. Granny gets done with the shop, and then comes to meet up with me.
She noticed something I didn’t, that the establishment that I walked into play pinball was a bar. And of course not just any bar. A bar where ladies take their tops off and expose their breasts. Her 12-year-old grandson was playing pinball in a topless bar!
She was sly and was able to get me away from the machine. Most importantly, she got me away from the machine without me even looking at one booby. And she would of almost made it if I didn’t put up a fuss about wanting to play pinball. She then explained to me that it wasn’t the right kind of place for a kid.
A little flustered by this small brush with naughtiness, Granny insisted we head back to the hotel room. I said OK, and was planning on watching some television.
The hotel television had a box connected to it where you could watch movies. I believe we were looking to see the movie “Oh God!” with George Burns, good wholesome family entertainment. I went ahead and pressed the buttons, and turned on the television set.
The TV took awhile to come on, apparently it was an older set and needed warming up. Then upon the screen I apparently saw a sight that I had missed in my previous experience. As the picture became clearer and clearer, there were jiggling breasts displayed on the screen. Granny lunges towards the television set and turns it off.
Apparently Granny was fearful of breasts, because in both cases she felt the urge to run away. So we had to leave our hotel room. We retreated to the arcade where there was an abundance of pinball and no bare breasts. I played pinball, Granny regained her composure, and then we left the arcade and started to walk around.
As I said in my previous story, Granny can’t resist a good Disney movie. So as we travel the streets we spot a movie theatre that sure enough one is playing a Disney movie classic. We go walking up to the theatre box office and Granny asks for two tickets, one adult and one child.
“Are you SURE you want to bring the kid into the theatre?”, says the man in the ticket booth.
Granny is surprised at such a question, and fires back, “Sure, why not? This is Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, right? It’s a kid’s movie.”
The man responds, “Lady, this movie is ALEX in Wonderland, and it is a pornographic movie. This ain’t no Disney film.”
Granny was flustered once again, and we headed back to the hotel room. No television of course. And headed back home the next day. It was an adventure to be sure, and while I think travel broadens horizons, I think this NYC trip added a few more gray hairs on Granny’s head.
The End.
Friday, May 7, 2010
FNF: Teenage Girl Gives Birth to Cricket
Every parent has stories about their child when they were little. Somewhat embarrassing stories about you that seem to creep up in conversation when they are meeting someone you’re dating. They seem to get a laugh about it. Well this seems to be “my story” that my parents liked telling, so here you go…
My Granny was a wonderful person in my life. I’ll likely write more about her as this blog continues. She was the best friend a kid could ever have. One of her standard practices was taking me out to see Disney movies. One of these was the Disney version of the story of “Pinocchio” where a wooden boy of a puppet becomes a real boy.
Anyway, my favorite character in this movie was Jiminy Cricket who served as a kind of conscious to the boy. He tries his best to keep Pinocchio out of trouble, but with little success. I was such a fan of the character when I got to go to Disney World I wouldn’t be happy until I found someone wearing a Jiminy Cricket costume. It never happened, and although I have pictures with practically every other character, no Jiminy.
Fast forward just a bit, I am still a little kid though, and my Mom and my Aunt Jean go out shopping. As it happens to practically every child in a good-sized store or mall, I got separated from my Mom and couldn’t find her.
Being raised to ask for help when I am lost, I go to the store counter and tell them I can’t find my Mom. The employee asked my name, to which I confidently replied “Jiminy Cricket!” Not sure if the employee knew anything about the movie, or perhaps she thought it was my true name. Apparently my apparel color was also important.
She picked up the microphone and announced to the store, “Will the mother of a little boy dressed in GREEN going by the name of Jiminy Cricket please report to the service counter”.
Apparently my Mom was embarrassed to have a cricket for a son, and didn’t want to claim me. She turned to my aunt who was a teenager and said to her that she would need to claim me and bring me to the car. My Mom then apparently headed for the car waiting for my aunt to retrieve me.
So here this teenage girl needs to go claim that this cricket dressed in green was her son. Which she did so, apparently getting only a few stares as she left the store with me holding her hand.
Mom claimed that if it weren’t for my aunt, I would still be waiting at that customer service counter.
The End.
*** BONUS SIDE STORY ***
Kids behaving made me also think of this tale, which is not large enough to be it’s own FNF.
Fast-forward a lot more to the very late 80s. I was in college and got a part time job working at a Ponderosa Steakhouse in LaPorte Indiana. Basically I waited tables, brought drinks, took dirty plates away, cleaned up, etc.
Anyway, once day I was working and this woman was having a difficult time with her unruly son. He didn’t want to behave. She threatened, “If you don’t start behaving I am going to leave you here!”
Not missing a beat, I approached the table and looked the kid in the eye with a sad expression on my face. I told him, “You best behave. I didn’t behave and my Mom left me here years ago and now I have to work every day.”
The child’s eyes widened in surprise and he immediately started acting like a complete angel. The Mom was almost laughing, holding it in not to give it away as the joke it was. She thanked me for the help and I got a nice tip.
The End.
My Granny was a wonderful person in my life. I’ll likely write more about her as this blog continues. She was the best friend a kid could ever have. One of her standard practices was taking me out to see Disney movies. One of these was the Disney version of the story of “Pinocchio” where a wooden boy of a puppet becomes a real boy.
Anyway, my favorite character in this movie was Jiminy Cricket who served as a kind of conscious to the boy. He tries his best to keep Pinocchio out of trouble, but with little success. I was such a fan of the character when I got to go to Disney World I wouldn’t be happy until I found someone wearing a Jiminy Cricket costume. It never happened, and although I have pictures with practically every other character, no Jiminy.
Fast forward just a bit, I am still a little kid though, and my Mom and my Aunt Jean go out shopping. As it happens to practically every child in a good-sized store or mall, I got separated from my Mom and couldn’t find her.
Being raised to ask for help when I am lost, I go to the store counter and tell them I can’t find my Mom. The employee asked my name, to which I confidently replied “Jiminy Cricket!” Not sure if the employee knew anything about the movie, or perhaps she thought it was my true name. Apparently my apparel color was also important.
She picked up the microphone and announced to the store, “Will the mother of a little boy dressed in GREEN going by the name of Jiminy Cricket please report to the service counter”.
Apparently my Mom was embarrassed to have a cricket for a son, and didn’t want to claim me. She turned to my aunt who was a teenager and said to her that she would need to claim me and bring me to the car. My Mom then apparently headed for the car waiting for my aunt to retrieve me.
So here this teenage girl needs to go claim that this cricket dressed in green was her son. Which she did so, apparently getting only a few stares as she left the store with me holding her hand.
Mom claimed that if it weren’t for my aunt, I would still be waiting at that customer service counter.
The End.
*** BONUS SIDE STORY ***
Kids behaving made me also think of this tale, which is not large enough to be it’s own FNF.
Fast-forward a lot more to the very late 80s. I was in college and got a part time job working at a Ponderosa Steakhouse in LaPorte Indiana. Basically I waited tables, brought drinks, took dirty plates away, cleaned up, etc.
Anyway, once day I was working and this woman was having a difficult time with her unruly son. He didn’t want to behave. She threatened, “If you don’t start behaving I am going to leave you here!”
Not missing a beat, I approached the table and looked the kid in the eye with a sad expression on my face. I told him, “You best behave. I didn’t behave and my Mom left me here years ago and now I have to work every day.”
The child’s eyes widened in surprise and he immediately started acting like a complete angel. The Mom was almost laughing, holding it in not to give it away as the joke it was. She thanked me for the help and I got a nice tip.
The End.
Friday, April 30, 2010
FNF: The Kryptonite Story
On Fridays I intend to post a humorous story. I can’t promise one every Friday though. I call these stories FNF meaning “Friday Night Funny”. To be absolutely honest while the core of these stories is true, I have to admit I might embellish them just a little.
My first story is “The Kryptonite Story”. I hope you enjoy it.
As Sophia from Golden Girls would open, “Picture it, Dolton, Illinois, USA. The year is 1978…”
A movie came out called “Superman” staring Christopher Reeve as Superman and Gene Hackman as the evil villain Lex Luthor. Of course I was going to see it. What kid wouldn’t want to see a Superman movie!
My favorite cinema for seeing movies was in Lansing Illinois in a mall called simply River Oaks. The theatre was behind the huge mall. I think I went with friends, because I had some money but didn’t see the movie with my parents.
Standing in the line at the concession stand, I saw a placard that the stand was selling a necklace. From what I remember it was a glowing rock on a chain, and it was called Kryptonite. It might have been just glow in the dark. Even though I would have liked to buy one, I didn’t have the pocket money after paying for my ticket and concessions. So I was contrite to just watch the movie and enjoy my popcorn.
The movie was awesome! Lots of special effects, and even through Luthor didn’t have any superpowers he still had all the presence of a good villain.
Later on, my Mom tells me that her and Dad were going to see the movie themselves. They were going to make a date night out of it for just the two of them. I think my Granny was going to stay with me while they went.
I told my Mom about the Kryptonite and that I really wanted to buy a piece of the jewelry but couldn’t. I liked the movie and wanted a souvenir to remember it. She said she would get me one.
Then my Mom comes home rather upset with me. “Why did you play such a horrible joke on your Mother?” I was confused. Why was she angry? “You have no idea how embarrassed I was!” I was still confused.
She calmed down a little, and I finally got a chance to talk to her and find out what went on…
To my horror I found out that she didn’t go with Dad to the River Oaks theatre at all. They apparently went to a different theatre. A theatre that didn’t sell the necklaces.
My Mom went up to the counter, and asked politely for the concession worker to sell her some Kryptonite. The theatre employee had no idea what she was talking about other than the obvious movie reference, and asks her, “And what are you intending to do with this Kryptonite Mrs. Luthor?! Do you think you can stop Superman?”
My Mom tries to explain to the employee that there was supposed to be jewelry that he was selling and she wanted a necklace souvenir. The clerk hadn’t a clue what she meant, as he never heard of such a thing.
So Mom thinks that I set the whole thing up as some sick joke to embarrass her. Which it wasn’t. Still not sure to this day if she believes the truth or not. Maybe this will help convince her. Cause if it was a joke I would have admitted it by now. And it wouldn’t have been as funny as this freak accident.
The End.
My first story is “The Kryptonite Story”. I hope you enjoy it.
As Sophia from Golden Girls would open, “Picture it, Dolton, Illinois, USA. The year is 1978…”
A movie came out called “Superman” staring Christopher Reeve as Superman and Gene Hackman as the evil villain Lex Luthor. Of course I was going to see it. What kid wouldn’t want to see a Superman movie!
My favorite cinema for seeing movies was in Lansing Illinois in a mall called simply River Oaks. The theatre was behind the huge mall. I think I went with friends, because I had some money but didn’t see the movie with my parents.
Standing in the line at the concession stand, I saw a placard that the stand was selling a necklace. From what I remember it was a glowing rock on a chain, and it was called Kryptonite. It might have been just glow in the dark. Even though I would have liked to buy one, I didn’t have the pocket money after paying for my ticket and concessions. So I was contrite to just watch the movie and enjoy my popcorn.
The movie was awesome! Lots of special effects, and even through Luthor didn’t have any superpowers he still had all the presence of a good villain.
Later on, my Mom tells me that her and Dad were going to see the movie themselves. They were going to make a date night out of it for just the two of them. I think my Granny was going to stay with me while they went.
I told my Mom about the Kryptonite and that I really wanted to buy a piece of the jewelry but couldn’t. I liked the movie and wanted a souvenir to remember it. She said she would get me one.
Then my Mom comes home rather upset with me. “Why did you play such a horrible joke on your Mother?” I was confused. Why was she angry? “You have no idea how embarrassed I was!” I was still confused.
She calmed down a little, and I finally got a chance to talk to her and find out what went on…
To my horror I found out that she didn’t go with Dad to the River Oaks theatre at all. They apparently went to a different theatre. A theatre that didn’t sell the necklaces.
My Mom went up to the counter, and asked politely for the concession worker to sell her some Kryptonite. The theatre employee had no idea what she was talking about other than the obvious movie reference, and asks her, “And what are you intending to do with this Kryptonite Mrs. Luthor?! Do you think you can stop Superman?”
My Mom tries to explain to the employee that there was supposed to be jewelry that he was selling and she wanted a necklace souvenir. The clerk hadn’t a clue what she meant, as he never heard of such a thing.
So Mom thinks that I set the whole thing up as some sick joke to embarrass her. Which it wasn’t. Still not sure to this day if she believes the truth or not. Maybe this will help convince her. Cause if it was a joke I would have admitted it by now. And it wouldn’t have been as funny as this freak accident.
The End.
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