Just Dancing In The Rain

Just Dancing In The Rain

Wow.. My wife yelled into the bedroom, "Ned, Ned, hurry out of bed, Ned."
"Is my latte ready?'

"No, just get out of bed and open the door to the back patio. It's raining, really raining!"

I stumbled out of bed and raced [well, hobbled] to the door aand stepped out. What a sweet smell it was.. Joy to my Seattle grown nostrils. I lifted my hands to catch the drops.

3 or 4 drops..per hand; the ground was dry..but it was raining..it was just not making to the ground.

My wife came out with my latte. We sat down and smiled. Then the rain was gone.. Heading away toward those people who prefer Arizona.

"Ned, do you miss Seattle?"

"No way, my sweetie. Remember, we are down here as Rainbirds. This is my kind of rain!"

"Don't you mean, Snowbirds, Ned?"

"Nope. Rainbirds. Remember the three weeks of rain just before came down?


"Ned, did you turn the sprinkler system off before we left?"

"Great Latte, my beloved, great latte."

I Just Want to Thank the folks Who...

I just want to thank all the folks who have sent me all those educational e-mails over the past year. I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.

I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel, or have them put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel.


I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels..


I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking ones nose (although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot).


Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of Trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.

I must send my special thanks to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.


Also, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.


I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's Novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers..


I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

Thanks to certain e-mailers I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

Because of their concerns, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God'on their cans.


I no longer use Saran Wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

And thanks to the guy who let me know, I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face.. Disfiguring me for life.


I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or Fed Ex since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army and won’t say “merry Christmas.”


I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore , and Uzbekistan ..

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

I no longer use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt and I check my own toilet very carefully before I sit down.

And thanks for the warning I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a serial killer waiting underneath my car to grab my leg..

I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies.


I always lock my car with the key now, instead of the remote, because crooks sit in parking lots with equipment that picks up car remote signals and steal the car or things in it after you go inside.


I can't do any gardening because I'm afraid I'll get bitten by the brown recluse and my hand will fall off.

If you don't pass this on to at least 100 people in the next 60 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p.m. Tomorrow afternoon and fleas will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbors' ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician . . .


Oh, by the way..... A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail and computer documents with their hand on the bacteria laden mouse.. Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.

A Man's Home is His Castle

A Man's Home is His Castle


Whoever said a man’s home was his Castle either had a grand misconception about men or had a strange understanding of the definition of Castle. Mine is a corner easy chair and ottoman with side table in one corner of the family room.

My control of castle functions lasts only until my wife walks in and asks, “Isn’t there anything else on TV?”

It does not matter what the score is, how many seconds left in the game or what program I have been watching for the last 50 minutes. We go searching until she finds what I am supposed to be watching.

Take the other night, for example. I was watching a program and she came into the family room, having finished up with whatever had kept her busy the last hour or so.

She stood there, blocking my line of sight. I leaned around to watch. She moved. I leaned. She moved. I gave up. I didn’t want to fall out of the chair or drop the bowl of ice cream. If I did, she had an automatic win.
“What are you watching?” She asked.

“The Biggest Loser,” I replied.

She looked at the TV, then back to my dish of ice cream. “What is that stuff on the top of your bowl of ice cream, under all the chocolate syrup?”


“Crushed up pretzels,” I smiled. She frowned.

“What is wrong with this picture? An overweight man is watching a program about overweight people struggling to lose weight, sitting there shoveling some ten thousand calories of ice cream mush into his mouth. Do you find that unusual, Ned?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “The program is very stressful and you know that when I get stressed, I need comfort food.” Sounded pretty reasonable to me.

“What were in the dishes you have piled up on the side table under the crosswords puzzles and the Louie L’amour book?” She moved in closer. Not good.

“Oh, those,” I shot back. “They were for the cheese and crackers and the cookies…and stuff.”

“When did you eat those?” She was blocking the TV again.

Things were not going well. Her hands went to her hips. I should have put those dishes away when I got the ice cream.

“Do you want to watch House Hunters,” I asked as I reached for the clicker.

She sighed deeply and held out her hand. I leaned out and surrendered the clicker. Another crisis averted.

My Castle was still intact and peace would reign throughout the kingdom..... for now. Long Live the King.