Don’t Bother Reaching for Your Umbrella, It’s Probably Broken!


Broken umbrella

The baby was tiny. I hadn’t seen anything but tonsils, poop, and Sesame Street in three weeks. My three-year-old-jabbered non-stop. My ears were sore. Naturally, with the clear-thinking of a woman with near terminal post-partum depression, I took full responsibility everything that went wrong. I don’t know if my husband was a good father or not, since he

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Goats Doing What Goats Do Best


Goat in fence I don’t know why Daddy kept goats. In theory, they’d eat brush and he’d have one to barbecue on Memorial Day, Fourth of July, or Labor Day. The fact is, our goats didn’t ascribe to the brush eating theory and were born knowing their life’s purpose was to get their heads stuck in fences, climb on everything and make passionate love. It was clear to the dumbest of them that flowers, grass, garden vegetables, laundry on the line, and almost anything else was better than brush. Only a starving goat would eat poison ivy or bitter weed if anything else is available. I had plenty of experience with goats. Our fences were intended to keep cows and horses in. Goats easily slipped their heads through the wire since they were the philosophical type who believed “the grass is greener on the other side. The problem arose when they tried to…

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Smorgasbord Laughter Lines – Delusion, paternity issues and a right earful

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

 Time for a smile or two… or more if you are so inclined……


A young man laboured under the delusion that he was a Yorkshire terrier. His friends persuaded him to seek professional help and he went to a psychiatrist for a course of treatment. Some weeks later, he met one of his friends in the street. ‘And how are things now?’ asked his friend. ‘Did the psychiatrist cure you?’

‘Oh yes,’ said the young man. ‘I’m quite okay now. Fit as a fiddle – here, feel my nose.’

Psychiatry part two.

A woman walked into a psychiatrist’s office carrying a duck under her arm. ‘What seems to be the problem?’ asked the psychiatrist. ‘Well, it’s not me, actually,’ said the woman. ‘It’s my husband. He thinks he’s a duck.’

A Moral story.

It was a freezing cold day in the snow-covered steppes of Siberia… A young boy was…

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Old is When/Joke of the Day


OLD” IS WHEN… Your sweetie says, “Let’s go upstairs and make love,” and you answer, “Pick one, I can’t do both!”

“OLD” IS WHEN.. Your friends compliment you on your new alligator shoes and you’re barefoot.

“OLD” IS WHEN…. A sexy babe catches your eye and your pacemaker opens the garage door.

“OLD” IS WHEN… Going bra-less pulls all the wrinkles out of your face.

“OLD” IS WHEN. You don’t care where your spouse goes, just as long as you don’t have to go along.

“OLD” IS WHEN….. You are cautioned to slow down by the doctor instead of by the police.

“OLD” IS WHEN….. “Getting a little action” means I don’t need to take any fiber today.

“OLD” IS WHEN….. “Getting lucky” means you find your car in the parking lot.

“OLD” IS WHEN….. An “all-nighter” means not getting up to pee. 

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Joke of the Day


When Paddy’s dog died, he took it to the local Catholic church. He asked the preacher if he could have a funeral service for his much loved pet, but the preacher explained that they didn’t do services like that for animals. Paddy asked who would and the preacher suggested that the Baptist church up the road would probably give the dog a funeral service. Paddy asked, “Preacher, do you think $5,000 would be enough payment for the dog’s funeral?” The preacher relied, “Dearest Paddy, why didn’t you tell me that your dog was a Catholic?”

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Joke of the Day



One night, Mrs McMillen answers the door to see her husbands best friend, Paddy, standing on the doorstep.

“Hello Paddy, but where is my husband? He went with you to the beer factory”

Paddy shook his head. “Ah Mrs McMillen, there was a terrible accident at the beer factory, your husband fell into a vat of Guinness stout and drowned”

Mrs McMillen starts crying. “Oh don’t tell me that, did he at least go quickly?”

Paddy shakes his head. “Not really – he got out 3 times to pee!”

An Irishman was flustered not being able to find a parking space in a large mall’s parking lot.

“Lord,”he prayed,”I can’t stand this.If you open a space up for me,I swear I’ll give up drinking me whiskey, and I promise to go to church every Sunday.”

Suddenly, the clouds parted and the sun shone on an empty parking spot. Without…

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Irish Drinking Joke


IrishAn Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender asks him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time.” The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.” The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: ordering three pints and drinking them in turn. One day, he…

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Poopy Puppy on a Plane

Image courtesy of Pixabay

Had I met Snowball under different circumstances, I’m sure I would have found her adorable.  Sadly for our friendship, I met her on a crowded plane.  I heard about her before I saw her, listening  in on the conversation between the two passengers sitting between me and the aisle.

”Snowball never pooped when I put her down on her pee pee pad in the bathroom.  I know she has to go by now.”  Ms. Bozo worried as she crowded me closer to the window.

”She’ll be fine.  We can’t do anything about that now.” Mr. Bozo replied, placidly.

”I think you need to take her to the lavatory and put her down on a pad.”  Ms. Bozo insisted.  “I gave her a little laxative last night so she’d go this morning. She never did.   We don’t want her getting constipated again.  You remember what happened last time.”  That sounded ominous.

“I told you not to do that!” Mr. Bozo grouched. “You know how that works her.”  He got up and struggled to pull Snowflake’s carrier from under Ms. Bozo’s seat.  Ms. Bozo unzipped the opening and peeked in at Little Snowball.  The smell was bad news.  Desperate to escape the fetid air in the carrier, Snowball leapt to freedom, smearing Mr. and Ms. Bozo with feces on her way.  Snowball no longer looked snowy.  Ms. Bozo squealed and Bozo roared.  Snowball sprinted down the aisle, ducking between passenger’s feet, the stewardess in pursuit.

”Don’t hurt her!  She’s scared!” Shrieked Ms. Bozo.  “Snowball, come back to Mama!  Snowball! Snowball!

That Snowball could run. Darting in and out among the legs of the other passengers, she left a little of herself all along the way.   She got by Bozo and the stewardess several times.  Eventually  she was recaptured, looking much cleaner, courtesy of hapless passengers’ legs. Ms. Bozo tidied her up in the lavatory, so Snowball was in better shape than her disgruntled new acquaintance who took turns sponging off in the lavatory,.  They clearly held a grudge.

Soon, a miasma from Snowball’s befouled carrier beneath the seat began to reek. As the odor recirculated through the cabin, only the Bozos failed to notice.  Even after the stewardess had them stuff it in a garbage bag, the smell spread,  even crossing the curtain into first class.

It was not the best flight I ever had.