Curl Up And Dye, You Gravy Sucking Pig

Try our meaty haunches!

 

Hair’s What’s Happening
The Mane Event
American Hairlines
From Hair to Eternity
Head Hunters
The Hairport
A Cut Above

We’ve all seen these signs.  Why do beauty salons seem to have a monopoly on bad pun names?  Is this something they teach in beauty school? Do students brainstorm corny names as they perfect the art of the Jheri Curl?

It’s about time other industries joined in the fun.  Here are a few suggestions:

 

  1. The Right Stuff:  Taxidermist
  2. Up In Smoke: Marijuana sales
  3. See You Later Alligator: Reptile petting zoo
  4. The Rite Stuff: Religious supplies
  5. Out On A Limb: Prosthesis manufacturer
  6. Trunk Show: Tree trimming service
  7. The White Stuff:  Betty White memorabilia shop
  8. The Grass is Always Greener:  Marijuana sales
  9. Pity Party: NASCAR pit crew
  10. Pushing Up Daisies: Florist (specializing in funeral arrangements)
  11. Out On A Limb: Tree trimming service
  12. The Fight Stuff: Boxing gym
  13. Up Periscope: Proctologist’s practice
  14. The Write Stuff: Bookstore
  15. Jeepers Creepers:  Optometrist
  16. The White Stuff:  Snow machine manufacturer
  17. Trunk Show: Elephant rentals for Indian weddings
  18. Must Give Us Paws: Shakespearean theater for dogs
  19. The Blight Stuff: Pesticide distributor
  20. Ex-Lax: Moving company
  21. Atlas Shrugged: Rand McNally map store
  22. The Wright Stuff: Airplane showroom
  23. Right Here In River City: Pool and billiard supplies
  24. Pole Vault: First National Bank of Warsaw
  25. The Bright Stuff: Electrical contractor
  26. The White Stuff: Cocaine dealer
  27. Curl Up & Dye, You Gravy Sucking Pig: Combination beauty salon/all-you-can-eat barbecue buffet

Disclaimer: The above names are assumed to be original. Any similarity to a business, living or dead, is sheer coincidence.  It could also be the fault of my unconscious mind committing plagiarism without my knowledge or consent.

More Disclaiming: I posted this a couple of years ago as a match-game, but that was WAY too much work for the average reader, so only 2 people read it.   Now I’ve done the heavy lifting for you.

What you got?

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Happy Secret Aries Week

pegoleg:

Perhaps you’ve noticed the snappy chartreuse winky guy hanging around in the margin of this-here blog. No, I didn’t steal it. I am a legitimate field reporter for the prestigious Nudge Wink Report. I’ve got a press pass and everything!

I couldn’t be more thrilled since the rest of their talent stable is awesome, they are a WordPress Recommended Humor Blog, and they serve free cocktails and those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

Today is my maiden voyage with the fine folks at Nudge Wink, so head on over and read all about a special holiday coming up this week.

Originally posted on The Nudge Wink Report:

Thanks for the reminder. Thanks for the reminder.

Secret Aries week is almost here.   Do you know about this? I’d never heard of it until I saw a sign outside the local florist’s shop the other day.

I’m not sure why some people born under the astrological sign of the ram want to keep it a secret.   I’m OK with being a Leo, and I would think those who are really into the Zodiac would be proud of their birth signs. I’m also surprised that there are enough people trying to hide being an Aries to warrant a whole week of celebration – wouldn’t one day do it? But since people are, obviously, into this, why don’t they observe it a week earlier? Then it would fall during the actual dates attributed to Aries.

Maybe that time slot was already taken up by some other crucial holiday like National Ball of Twine week. We…

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Some of Y’all Need To Pay More Taxes

I wrote this piece a couple of years ago, and WordPress was kind enough to choose it for Freshly Pressed.   Here it is again, in honor of our national day of financial mourning.

Washington has never called about implementing these great ideas.  If you’re chummy with any of our elected officials, pass this on, OK?

If you do the crime, you pay the fine.

What’s wrong with America is some of y’all need to be paying more taxes.

Taxes raise money, sure, but the government also uses them to change our behavior.  We are encouraged to do some things (buy houses and windmills) and not do others (smoke, drink and drive cars).

I’ve come up with a comprehensive tax plan that expands on that idea.  It will bring in much needed cash, and encourage everyone to follow the “right” path.

Here’s a partial list of my proposed taxes:

Individuals

  • Me No Like-y Tax:  Each time the word “like” is used, except to express a preference, or to compare things, it will be taxed.  Tax collectors will be stationed in junior highs, high schools and malls on a Saturday afternoon.
  • Scanties Tax:  This fine is imposed each time we are forced to look at someone’s underwear because his or her pants are too low.  It is waived if the person is a professional underwear model. The fine will be doubled if the low pants reveal an area that SHOULD be underwear-clad, but isn’t – the BCC addendum (butt-crack cleavage).
  • Tortoise Tax:  This is levied against anyone driving more than 5 miles below the speed limit.  Tax doubled if it is rush hour, if there is only one lane available, or if the offender is hanging out in the passing lane.

Businesses

  • Murdering the King’s English Tax:  Imposed on businesses that deliberately misspell, misuse and generally slaughter the English language.  This will be levied for:
    • Using dumbed-down synonyms like: lite, rite, hunny, nu, ez
    • Adding “e” to words to make them looke olde
    • Substituting “k” for “c” to kompel kute alliteration
  • Nobody’s Home Tax:  Imposed on businesses that use computer telephone answering systems without the option to press zero to reach a human.  The tax is doubled if the phone recording is set for “folksy” and says things like “OK, let me look that up for you.”  Nobody is looking anything up.  Don’t you think we get that this is a computer?
  • Green Is The Color Of Money Tax:  Fines are levied on companies for changing the packaging or advertising on the same old stuff, solely to jump on the “green” bandwagon.  A corresponding tax will also be levied on the consumer who buys stuff to give the appearance of caring for the environment, without having to do any heavy lifting.

I was thinking of a flat 10 cents tax per infraction, but we can work out the details later.  I welcome input as we get the dialogue going.

I welcome constructive input, that is.  Some critics have said this is nothing more than a scheme to punish people who do things that bother me.  To these cynics I say; let me introduce you to the Smart Ass Tax.

That will be 10 cents each, please.

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April Showers Bring Melon-Ball Doohickeys

I'm SINGing in the rain...ouch!  ouch!

I’m SINGing in the rain…ouch! ouch!

The other day I was scrubbing a cookie sheet that had gone from gun-metal gray to mottled brown from years of hard use.  I couldn’t tell if what I was attacking was cleanable dirt, or if cooking alchemy had transformed it at the molecular level to a new kind of metal.

I paused in my labors, still clutching a soapy Brillo pad, and took stock of my kitchen. After more than 30 years, 80% of my utensils, pots, pans and towels wouldn’t pass the Goodwill test: even poor people wouldn’t want them.

I need a shower.

I’m talking about a wedding shower.  The custom started back when a young lady moved straight from her parents’ home to her husband’s, and friends and family gathered to give her the small, practical things she would need to outfit her kitchen and linen closet.

Times have changed, and current customs no longer work.  Today’s bride has often been on her own for years.  Chances are that a 30-something woman already owns basics like a cheese grater.  Her gift registry is a wish-list full of move-up items like $500 Baccarat high ball glasses.  That’s not my idea of a shower gift.

What about women who don’t marry?  They are totally neglected by the current system.    If they want a melon-ball-maker-doohickey, they have to go to a Pampered Chef party and spend $74.99 to buy one.

I propose a change to a two-tier system:

Leaving the Nest: When a young woman gets her first place.

This is typically at graduation; high school or college.  Loved ones will gather to outfit a young woman with the little things she will need for her home, whether or not she marries.

Re-feathering the Nest:   When a young woman turns 50.

Everything in the house is now old and broken down. The once-fluffy bath towels are scratchy as sandpaper, the business end of the potato peeler is attached to the handle with twist ties, and the kitchen towels’ formerly bright, yellow chickens are so faded and stained it looks like the poor birds are molting. Time for another shower.

With my new shower system, no other woman will ever suffer the pain I have known; that of having her husband mistake her once-fancy, powder-room hand towels for rags suitable for use while fixing the lawn mower.

I’m free most Saturdays next month and my bathroom is blue.

Postscript:  I didn’t forgot about the guys; that’s deliberate.  Since men  can “get the milk for free without buying the cow” nowadays (to quote my mother,) they need an incentive to get married.  I’m confident that if marriage is the only way men can snag kitchen towels with a button crocheted on one end to hang on the door of the fridge, wedding rates will skyrocket.   The number of couples enjoying wedded bliss will soon be right back up to June Cleaver-era levels.

 

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Dormant, Not Dead

dormanttrees

A couple of weeks ago I took a hike in one of my favorite parks.  A bad storm came through the area last summer and the park was closed for several months because of all the trees that were knocked down.   In many spots on the trails you have to walk through 3-foot gaps that have been chain-sawed out of fallen trees.

Some trees have been entirely ripped from the ground.  Their gnarled roots point up to the blue sky instead of down into the rich, black soil that was their home.  Some of the trees are leaning, and it’s hard to know if they will recover.  Every tree in the park looks dead, however, whether standing tall or almost horizontal.  They are still in their winter dormant period, resting and waiting.  It’s nature’s way.

So it is with people.

Faith – The strongest faith can have periods of doubt. Maybe you’re just not feeling it. Keep praying, keep trying. Even if it seems you are merely going through the motions, there is merit in the exercise. It helps keep you close so you can hear the call when it comes again.

     Don’t give up on faith.

Hope – Life is not easy. Much of it is plain hard. But it is also made up of many, many small moments of quiet contentment, laughter and connection. Something as simple as a favorite, old song coming on the radio can raise a smile.  A wave of pure joy can rush in when you least expect it, rush in to lift you up.

When despair threatens to swamp you, remember the good times. Look for them because they will come again.

     Don’t give up on hope.

Love – Every relationship goes through a cooling period. The ordinariness of everyday life can smother passion. Love changes with time, and when it does, you may not recognize it. Realize that love may still be there, just different.

Romantic love may not be for you. There are other kinds of love that are no less precious: love of family, for a child, for friends, and the love of God, which is evergreen.

     Don’t give up on love.

When it seems that faith, hope or love is gone, cling to the belief that they are dormant, not dead. As long as life remains there is the possibility that tomorrow will be better.

Don’t give up – spring will come.

 

Posted in Cancer Schmancer, General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 71 Comments

Once You Bite The Head Off The Bunny, You’ve Gone Too Far

Easter Rabbits

For someone like me who has a serious sugar addiction, major holidays mean major problems.  Some holidays aren’t so bad: St. Patrick’s Day is all about the booze, Fourth of July is all about the burgers, and Presidents Day is all about mattress sales. The big three for sugar junkies are Christmas, Halloween and Easter.

Here we go again.

When our kids were little, my Easter bunny process went like this:

  1. Buy supplies at least a week early so I don’t end up at the store the night before with empty shelves devoid of all but a few overpriced and/or inferior candy selections.
  2. Eat all the supplies.
  3. End up at the store the night before with empty shelves devoid of all but a few overpriced and/or inferior candy selections.
  4. Pin the checkout girl to an end-cap with my forearm across her throat screaming, “What do you MEAN you’re out of Cadbury Crème Eggs? I GOT to HAVE those EGGS! Go to the back room and find me some #&^%$ eggs!!!”
  5. Dash out of the store with my second-rate purchases before the police arrive.
  6. After the kids go to bed, bring out their baskets and plastic eggs and distribute the candy:
    • One solid, milk chocolate bunny for Lizzy’s basket
    • One solid, milk chocolate bunny for Gwennie’s basket
    • One solid, milk chocolate bunny for Mommy
    • A handful of jelly beans for Lizzy’s basket
    • A handful of jelly beans for Gwennie’s basket
    • A handful of jelly beans for each of the plastic eggs
    • A handful of jelly beans for Mommy
    • Repeat with all available candy items
  7. Hide the baskets and eggs around the house while consuming half a bag of Reese’s Mini Peanut Butter Cups in the pastel, foil wrappers.
  8. Wake up early to witness the children’s delight as they hunt for their baskets and eggs before church. Except I usually missed this part because I was in the bathroom with morning-after digestive problems and a killer, sugar hangover.

The kids are out of the house now. I still want to mark the occasion by making baskets for them, but now I do Easter Priority Mail Boxes. I’ve gotten a little smarter about the process and have set some rules for myself to avoid a sugar overdose.

  1. Buy the candy the night before I plan to ship it.
  2. Leave the goods in the car. Do not, for God’s sake, DO NOT BRING THE CANDY INTO THE HOUSE!
  3. Make the boxes up at my office where I’m less likely to lose control.
  4. If I eat a couple of jelly beans in the process, that’s OK.
  5. If I bite the head off of a chocolate bunny, I have gone too far. Do NOT mail that one.
  6. Ship every piece of candy (except those with teeth marks) and do NOT keep any around the house or office.
  7. Do NOT go to the store next Monday to stock up on ½ price clearance Easter candy. That’s not fooling anybody.

I got the Easter Priority Mail Boxes out yesterday, and I’m sure my girls will be touched.  I wish I could see the look on their faces when they open them on Easter morning, but we live too far away now.  Besides, after church I will be busy enjoying my new favorite treat since I’ve tamed the sugar addiction – Bloody Marys.

I was talking about my problem with Easter candy with my sister Libby, and she’s the one who said the line that inspired this post and became the title.  I ’bout spewed coffee out my nose.

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March Madness For Dummies

spartybracketmath

Here’s a fun fact that you may not know about me; I am a Spartan.

No, I don’t mean that I am spartan: marked by simplicity, frugality, or avoidance of luxury and comfort. In that regard I am more of a sybarite: a voluptuary or hedonist.

I mean that I am a proud graduate and loyal daughter of Michigan State University. And just because I don’t follow college sports and, as a matter of fact, don’t know very much about such things, that doesn’t mean I can’t claim full bragging rights because the MSU men’s basketball team has made it to the Fantastic Four.

Go Green!

For those not familiar with this great tradition, a fever grips colleges all across the land at this time of year.   Students abandon their scholastic pursuits and get drunk because it is spring break. But that does not concern us right now.  They also abandon their scholastic pursuits and get drunk when it is Thursday.  We’re not getting into that, either.

I want to talk about this magical time for college basketball that is known as The Spring Fling.

The NCAA (National Council on Avoiding studying in April) breaks the country up into 4 divisions: East, Midwest, South and West. There is no North division because the northern schools’ only sport is playing hockey against Canada.  Each college plays the other schools in their division until each has a winner. Michigan State, for example, which is generally considered be in the Midwest of the contiguous United States map-wise, is in the Eastern division for basketball purposes. We play all the other Eastern teams like the one bordering the Gulf of Mexico, Louisiana.

Before any games may be played, however, every adult male in the nation (and many intrepid females) must formulate their brackets.  This is a complicated process which involves calculating wins divided by losses multiplied by free throws, all carried to a power equal to the number of tattoos the point guard has. Sports fans are cautioned to keep in mind the Order of Operations rule, working from left to right except that equations within parentheses and brackets come first. That’s how they got the name.   At the end of these logarithms, each person winds up with their own, personal ranking of teams going from dead last, which position they call Unable To Get Alumni Donations, to the team they think will win the whole tournament, called The Big Kahuna.

This process is so complex that many men find it necessary to abandon their work pursuits and get drunk EVEN IF THEY ARE NOT IN COLLEGE!

Formulating and betting on brackets is a vital part of the U.S. economy during this time, and it accounts for a full 67% of the Gross Domestic Product of Las Vegas. Every time anyone anywhere says they bet their team will go all the way, they have to send $50 to Antonio “Sonny” Parmigiano-Reggiano at the Sands Hotel & Casino.

The first round of games is called the Sudden Death Double Elimination. That’s also what they called it during the playoffs sophomore year, when I spent the night on the bathroom floor with a bucket after I had enjoyed the Little Caesar’s 2-for-1 anchovy pizza deal along with 5 shots of tequila.  But I don’t want to talk about THAT, either.   All you have to know is that MSU beat Virginia in this round to get into the Sixteen Candles.

Go White!

Michigan State was unstoppable as they whupped another East coast powerhouse, Oklahoma (formerly known as a Great Plains state before they migrated East,) to advance to the Crazy Eights.

Go Green!

Then came Sunday’s nail-biter. That game went into overtime before MSU emerged victorious over Louisville to earn a place in the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Go White!

This weekend will be major. No, I’m not talking about the events marking the passion, death and resurrection of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ, although that’s big, too.   I mean the two games on Saturday that will determine who goes to the final showdown.  If MSU wins, we play for all the marbles on Monday as one of the Dynamic Duo.

This is big.

Of course it’s not as big as in 1978-79 when MSU won the Big Ten championships in football, baseball and cheer-leading, and went all the way  to #1 in the country in basketball.  I’m sure all the athletes worked really hard that year, but was it merely coincidence that I had just transferred in to MSU at the start of that Never-To-Be-Repeated-Year-Of-Glory?  You decide.

Be sure to cheer for Michigan State this weekend.  All of us loyal Spartans will sing the fight song loud and clear.  And if anyone still wonders why the song is “fighting with A vim” (as in only one vim; wouldn’t it be better to have a whole bunch of vim (vims? vimi?) for the big game?) that won’t diminish our enthusiasm for our team.  My money is on MSU to go all the way.

(The $50 is in the mail, Sonny.)

Go Green! Go White!

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