Pirate Joke

A seaman meets a pirate in a bar. The pirate has a peg-leg, a hook and an eye patch. “How’d you end up with a peg-leg?” asks the sailor. “I was swept overboard in a storm,” says the pirate.
“A shark bit off me whole leg.”

“Wow!” said the seaman. “What about the hook?”

“We were boarding an enemy ship, battling the other sailors with swords. One of them cut me

“Incredible!” remarked the seaman. “And the eye patch?” “A seagull dropping fell in me eye,” replied the pirate.

“You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?” the sailor asked incredulously.

Said the pirate.
 “It was the first day with the hook.”

Ask Auntie Linda July 22, 2015

Auntie Linda 

Dear Auntie Linda,   I am at my wit’s end.  I am a hairdresser, and believe me, I work hard and need every cent.  The problem is, one of my best clients has horrible breath.  I get faint holding my breath while I wax her eyebrows and lip.  She is such a sweet lady.  I wouldn’t hurt her feelings for anything and frankly, I have to have the money.  She is in at least every two weeks.  My budget is tight.  How can I tip her off without hurting her feeling?  Failing Fast

Dear Failing, Well, if you don’t want to come right out and ask if she’s been chewing her socks again, you might subtly do what my hairdresser does.  She keeps mints on her table and takes one herself every time she starts to do my hair and offers me one.  I wouldn’t dare not take one.  I’ve never had the nerve to see if she offers one to anybody else, but now that you brought this up, next time I think I’ll hide and watch.  Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda,  I don’t have a dog and have never had any particular desire to have dog poop in my yard.  Every time my daughter comes to visit, she lets her dog poop in my yard and doesn’t clean up after him. I am tired of cleaning up behind her dog.  How do I get her to stop?  Pooped out

Dear Pooped, If you don’t want to come right out and tell her, drop a gentle hint.  Scoop up the poop, hand her the bag, and tell her she forgot something.  Should you not want to discuss it, just put the bag in her purse or car.  That should do it.  Auntie Linda

Auntie Linda

Babies and More Babies

I Connie and Marilyn's Toddler Pictures

I was I was eight years old when my whole world changed.  Mother had a baby.  Never having been much interested in babies, this one seemed like a waste of time.  Life was far better before the baby.  Mother was nicer; not constantly carping about being tired.  She’d also gotten incredibly lazy, now expecting me to fold towels, dust, and clear my own dishes from the table.  I hadn’t minded the first time or two, especially when she thanked me so effusively, but when it became obvious she expected it to be a regular thing, I was disgusted.

Not only that, Mother went on and on about how much things cost now.  It made no sense that before the baby, there had always been plenty of money for cowboy boots, the ice cream man, and trips to Grandma’s.  Now we were poor.  She got her stupid baby and now I got nothing.

Eventually, Connie started playing and I loved her  Before too long, Mother got the pathetic mopes again.  She got lazier than ever, sat around with her feet up or took to her bed for hours at a time, sometimes even crying a little.  In desperation, Daddy even hired a lady to help out.  I loved Miss Annie, but she seemed a lot more interested in Connie than me.  Mother did nothing but lie around and play with Connie, till she she started sewing.  She bragged to her friend one day that she’d hand-made and embroidered eight baby dresses.  My jealousy alarm went off.


“Mother, make something for me.”  I had no use for dainty embroidered dresses, but surely she could come up with something!

“You’re too bigI can’t handmake anything for you.”

I made a point to be crushed, devastated by her selfishness, going out to pout as long as I could manage it.  Fortunately, I had a short attention span and soon got lost in play. The next day, Mother had Marilyn.  By this time, I knew babies quickly got cute, so I loved her from the start.


Vagina, Boobs, and Poop (Part 8)

Reblog Part 8 of a 12 part series


surpriseThis post has nothing to do with Vagina, Boobs, and Poop.  I am doing a post on crazy things my mother has said and done and wanted to see if this garnered interest.  Mother is sensitive about her age and height, so I can’t mention the fact that she is past eighty, and “not tall,” but besides that, has said and done some interesting things.   (Links to part 1-5 below)

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