Saturday, November 07, 2009
The rebirth of Struck Me Funny
On a web where everything seems to be serious, I have returned to my roots. I just want to point out the things that make me laugh. And there are plenty. For example... Maybe the handicap that the driver of this car has is an inability to be able to park in between the lines.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Monday, September 25, 2006
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Childish...yep, that's me!
About a year and half ago my sister and mom were talking with my oldest niece, Madi Pearl. Somethng came up about something and I don't think I can get any clearer with that. I'm not sure what the situation was either but that's not important. Either mom or my sister pointed at something or someone and said, "What's that Madi?"
"That's certimation!" Said Madi.
Mom and Sister: "What's certimation?!?"
"It's like texture!"
Texture...certimation. There's your word for the day.
I love that childhood ability that seems to be lost on us MATURE adults. That ability to create new... anything.
I also love their love of pretend and play.
Hey, I have a great example of pretend and play...
WARNING: The following excerpt has the power to ruin any self image I have tried to create for some of you or validate the opinions others of you already have.
About two weeks ago my siser and I were driving down the road. She was on her mobile phone talking to dad back home. Wait...that's not far enough back.
My sister has a very strong aversion to all things relating to bodily functions. Most commonly known is the fart. Yes, I said it. Fart. Pass gas. The barking spider. Toot. Rip one off. Pull my finger. Clear a room. Stink bomb. My sister is not a fan.
So me being the mature older brother driving down the road as she talks with our father I had to do what comes next. I had to.
As she was listening to something dad was saying on the other end I said, very softly, excuse me.
The horror on her face as she looked at me knowing what "excuse me" meant was priceless. It seemed to come in slow motion.
What came next can best be described in bullet points.
1. She gagged.
2. She rolled down the window with her right hand.
3. She put the phone in between her left ear and left shoulder with the same right hand.
4. She covered her mouth with her left hand.
5. She stuck her head out the window just long enough to get a very deep breath.
6. She hit me. She hit me hard.
7. She said, "Dad! Stuart just farted in his truck."
"No I didn't. I just said, 'excuse me.'"
She hit me again.
"That's certimation!" Said Madi.
Mom and Sister: "What's certimation?!?"
"It's like texture!"
Texture...certimation. There's your word for the day.
I love that childhood ability that seems to be lost on us MATURE adults. That ability to create new... anything.
I also love their love of pretend and play.
Hey, I have a great example of pretend and play...
WARNING: The following excerpt has the power to ruin any self image I have tried to create for some of you or validate the opinions others of you already have.
About two weeks ago my siser and I were driving down the road. She was on her mobile phone talking to dad back home. Wait...that's not far enough back.
My sister has a very strong aversion to all things relating to bodily functions. Most commonly known is the fart. Yes, I said it. Fart. Pass gas. The barking spider. Toot. Rip one off. Pull my finger. Clear a room. Stink bomb. My sister is not a fan.
So me being the mature older brother driving down the road as she talks with our father I had to do what comes next. I had to.
As she was listening to something dad was saying on the other end I said, very softly, excuse me.
The horror on her face as she looked at me knowing what "excuse me" meant was priceless. It seemed to come in slow motion.
What came next can best be described in bullet points.
1. She gagged.
2. She rolled down the window with her right hand.
3. She put the phone in between her left ear and left shoulder with the same right hand.
4. She covered her mouth with her left hand.
5. She stuck her head out the window just long enough to get a very deep breath.
6. She hit me. She hit me hard.
7. She said, "Dad! Stuart just farted in his truck."
"No I didn't. I just said, 'excuse me.'"
She hit me again.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
48 in a 40 at 36
I live in Nashville.
I'm from Springfield, MO.
I will admit that it is hard to cope sometimes with the style of driving in my hometown. I will also repent of quietly cursing out the streets and traffic lights and number of lanes and volume per lane AND lack of freeways or true by-passes or hover craft rental stores.
There's a little place on the South side of Springfield called Arris Pizza. I decided last night that it would be great to go out for lunch today with my mom, dad, brother, his wife and their two lovely young girls. Between noon and noon-thirty at Arris.
I am staying with mom and dad on the north side of Springfield so any trip to the south side is about 20 miles.
Not a big deal. I drive that in Nashville several times over each day.
So what does 48 in a 40 at 36 mean?
The average speed in Springfield is 40 on the main street. We were topping out at 36 mph. And it took us 48 minutes to get to Arris Pizza.
Go here to watch paint dry...Live!
Bright side:
We did manage to stop at a couple of intersections on the FIRST blink of a yellow light. That was interesting. I had never done that. We also got passed by a very old couple in a Buick. You know the kind...Can't see o'er the steering wheel.
(Note to self: Helicopter lessons before Christmas trip to Missouri.)
Ooh-ooh! Click here for a live webcam to watch grass grow!
I'm from Springfield, MO.
I will admit that it is hard to cope sometimes with the style of driving in my hometown. I will also repent of quietly cursing out the streets and traffic lights and number of lanes and volume per lane AND lack of freeways or true by-passes or hover craft rental stores.
There's a little place on the South side of Springfield called Arris Pizza. I decided last night that it would be great to go out for lunch today with my mom, dad, brother, his wife and their two lovely young girls. Between noon and noon-thirty at Arris.
I am staying with mom and dad on the north side of Springfield so any trip to the south side is about 20 miles.
Not a big deal. I drive that in Nashville several times over each day.
So what does 48 in a 40 at 36 mean?
The average speed in Springfield is 40 on the main street. We were topping out at 36 mph. And it took us 48 minutes to get to Arris Pizza.
Go here to watch paint dry...Live!
Bright side:
We did manage to stop at a couple of intersections on the FIRST blink of a yellow light. That was interesting. I had never done that. We also got passed by a very old couple in a Buick. You know the kind...Can't see o'er the steering wheel.
(Note to self: Helicopter lessons before Christmas trip to Missouri.)
Ooh-ooh! Click here for a live webcam to watch grass grow!
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
You have just had a Steve Martin Experience.
I heard about this many years ago. I was watching one of those suck your mind out of your skull, can't stop watching even though you know it doesn't matter A&E specials about Hollywood actors. This one was on autographs. Famous people talking about writing down a name on a piece of paper with a sharpie!
A ridiculous reason for a show and yet I can recall so much of it.
Dolly Parton said she'd always take time to sign an autograph.
Woody Allen didn't give an autograph. So, if you got him to pay with a check you wouldn't want to cash it! It would be more valuable as an autograph than a promissory note.
Paul Newman said he stopped giving his signature out when he was asked for an autograph while standing at the urinal in a public restroom.
Then there's my second favorite philosophy major: Steve Martin.
Mr. Martin, or Buckley as he told me to call him, doesn't take out a pen and he doesn't need yours. He needs not take your paper, sign your arm or even take a photo with you. He needs only to reach in his breast pocket like a Real Estate Agent and pull out a business card.
On it?
Take a look at this! (The last question asked in the interview)
This is what the card actually said...
Steve Martin Autograph
"This certifies that you have had a personal encounter with me, Steve Martin and that you found me warm, polite, intelligent and funny."
Excerp from www.anecdotage.com
I suddenly wanted that card.
A few years ago, sitting at a table in the back of Rio Bravo Restaurant (now closed) rolling silverware between shifts the servers were talking about famous people they had met.
Someone said Eddie George. Someone else said, Robert Redford. There was a James Gandolfini and I had to throw in a Brock Peters, Ray Stevens and And AND the Voice of Bart Simpson.
Then Allison chimed in. My mom met Steve Martin this weekend in Chicago...She said, kinda ho-hum.
My silverware rolling came to a screeching halt!
"AND?!?" I asked.
"He gave her some little card with something on it about a personal meeting with him or something like that. How foolish."
Well, yeah.
A ridiculous reason for a show and yet I can recall so much of it.
Dolly Parton said she'd always take time to sign an autograph.
Woody Allen didn't give an autograph. So, if you got him to pay with a check you wouldn't want to cash it! It would be more valuable as an autograph than a promissory note.
Paul Newman said he stopped giving his signature out when he was asked for an autograph while standing at the urinal in a public restroom.
Then there's my second favorite philosophy major: Steve Martin.
Mr. Martin, or Buckley as he told me to call him, doesn't take out a pen and he doesn't need yours. He needs not take your paper, sign your arm or even take a photo with you. He needs only to reach in his breast pocket like a Real Estate Agent and pull out a business card.
On it?
Take a look at this! (The last question asked in the interview)
This is what the card actually said...
Steve Martin Autograph
"This certifies that you have had a personal encounter with me, Steve Martin and that you found me warm, polite, intelligent and funny."
Excerp from www.anecdotage.com
I suddenly wanted that card.
A few years ago, sitting at a table in the back of Rio Bravo Restaurant (now closed) rolling silverware between shifts the servers were talking about famous people they had met.
Someone said Eddie George. Someone else said, Robert Redford. There was a James Gandolfini and I had to throw in a Brock Peters, Ray Stevens and And AND the Voice of Bart Simpson.
Then Allison chimed in. My mom met Steve Martin this weekend in Chicago...She said, kinda ho-hum.
My silverware rolling came to a screeching halt!
"AND?!?" I asked.
"He gave her some little card with something on it about a personal meeting with him or something like that. How foolish."
Well, yeah.
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