159 results for 'humor'
Sue. I once had a girlfriend named Sue. She treated me pretty badly. But not nearly as badly as the Sue who was about to come into my life. My life and that of my twelve-year-old son, Ben. This new Sue was running late for her first day on the job as a waitress at McCarthy’s Restaurant, and, consequently, was driving a bit too fast for the prevailing road conditions.
We had had a big snowfall in the night, and Vermont Route 100 between Stowe and Morrisville was a mess. But Vermonters don’t miss youth hockey games because of a little snow; so here we were, picking our way carefully... (more)
He’s pretty dead now. I thought he was dead already. But he wasn’t. He is now. So I started reading The Catcher in the Rye today.
There is a reason I'm doing this, and it's not just because he's some famous author who died. That's not my style. Actually, it's quite a story. You see old JD’s death reminded me of sixth grade. I had this friend, well not really. His name was Clark Shangle. My understanding is that he is dead too. Alcohol. I never saw that coming back in sixth grade. I figured if anything he’d live to annoy people at least two hundred years if not a day.
By the way,... (more)
I was sitting at the bar of an upscale new seafood restaurant, feeling kind of poor relative to the menu prices, when who should come along but Bob and Karen Weiss, looking brown as two berries. I got up to greet them. “Hey, you two. What’s doin’?”
“Hey, Alan,” Bob answered, giving me a hug. “Not much. Heading down to Aruba in the morning for a little R and R.”
“Heading down?” I said. “Looks like you just got back.”
“This?” said Karen, running a hand down her beautifully tanned arm. “Tanning booth. We don’t like to get off the plane looking like a couple of ghosts.”... (more)
...to the deed.
“But why?” my wife wanted to know when she came to get me from the police station.
“I guess I just snapped,” I answered. “Looks like she’ll be going after the bakery now. Sorry.”
“Well,” she laughed, evidently seeing more humor in the situation than I did, “on the bright side, at least you’ve got something to write about now.”
“Not really. I still don’t have a name for her.”
“I think you were close with Preparation H … Wait … How about Emma - Emma Royd?”
“Emma Royd…... (more)
Every once in a while the clash between my wife Lorrie’s need for quiet and my need to be heard will rear its ugly head, causing her to flee the house for a period of time lasting anywhere from ten minutes to however long it takes to drive to the nearest movie theater, watch a movie, take herself out for a drink and a burger, and return to the nest. Last night she went to see “There Will Be Blood.”
“I’m home,” she gave the all-clear signal at about eleven. But as I have my pride; and as I was just then in the middle of a particularly gripping section of the page-turner I was reading... (more)
Christmas Eve Day, 2009 Providence and Newport, Rhode Island
“Good. I’ll be down around noon. Don’t eat. I’m bringing lunch,” I said.
What are friends for? One of my dearest – we’ll call him Lucien – was recovering from a nasty surgery that had robbed him of any semblance of comfort and joy. He was alone, on this day before Christmas, his loved ones having dispersed to ski hills the world over. “A bit low” was all that he had offered on the phone that morning – which explains what I was doing at The Sandwich Shack, collecting the smorgasbord of foodstuffs that... (more)
Judging by photographs taken of me in 1971, you’d have to say that I was a hippie. I had long hair like a hippie. I dressed like a hippie. And at least one snapshot of me attached to the business end of an elaborate Moroccan hookah testifies to the fact that I smoked pot like a hippie.
But funnily enough, I never liked hippies: didn’t like their attitudes; didn’t like their politics; didn’t like the way they spoke – man.
Western Europe, back in the Seventies, was littered with American hippies – come to “do Europe”, often at that moment in their lives which divided their years... (more)
Despite the fact that this is my fourth December in Los Angeles, this year was my first doing any appreciable Christmas shopping here. I’m usually headed back home to Colorado - and not wanting to check baggage full of presents, I do my last-minute shopping there, where it’s never much of a problem. But this year, I’m sticking around, enjoying the weather and avoiding the hassle of travel. To my horror, however, I realized far too late that last-minute holiday shopping in L.A. was going to be different, to save losing what little faith I had left in my fellow man and to rip what little Christmas... (more)
I heard on the T.V. this morning that if Facebook were a country, it would be the sixth largest country in the world, a tidbit that sent me racing through cyberspace for data. Within milliseconds I found what I was looking for. Facebook, were it a country, would have a population somewhere between that 153,546,048 and 172,800,048, these two figures being the populations of Bangladesh and Pakistan, currently the seventh and sixth largest countries, respectively. I could flaunt my cheaply got knowledge by giving you the headcounts in China, India, the U.S., Indonesia, and Brazil; but to what... (more)
I let Emma, my dog, take me for a walk this morning. Well, actually, we started this morning and got back late this afternoon.
This doesn’t happen often, as it requires both that I be in a really good mood and have plenty of time on my hands. In fact, this was the first time that I’ve let Emma walk me in a couple of years.
When I walk Emma, there are rules: I choose our route and, while I do allow her to stop and sniff whatever treasures, visible and invisible, she may find along the way, I impose time limits, anywhere from five to ten seconds per sniffing episode.