Oh. My. God.

he's polka dotted

I am so tired. Every once in a while my late nights catch up to me and whack me over the head with a giant stick. Even when this happens, I still try to work. I turn on my computer and stare at the screen, unable to form sentences or think through ideas.

I don’t have anything to talk about tonight. I’ve screwed around on Pinterest and Youtube hoping that something would come up and inspire me.

No luck.

I have a sleeping kitty on my lap. I’ll never need sleeping pills so long as there are sleepy kittens in the world. Once one crawls into your lap and starts that rhythmic purring, you are forced to calm down right along with them.

For now I’m spiraling into…..

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I don’t normally do this two days in a row, but I just couldn’t resist.

This came from the Law & Order Briefs in the Local Picayne. It’s all rather dull until you get to the one brilliant part. Let’s see if you agree.

A man walking down the street and firing his gun in the air in a south-side… neighborhood late Monday was shot and wounded by a resident who told him to quit it, police said. (blah blah blah – boring parts) He ignored the resident’s warning to stop firing his gun and was shot by the resident. Police found the wounded man in the street. He is expected to survive. The resident who shot the man stayed at the scene and is cooperating with police.

First of all – yeah Arizona. Everyday I’m reminded I live in the wild west where everyone has a gun.

My favorite part of the story is the line “a resident told him to quit it.” I believe that is an acceptable legal defense in AZ.

“Your honor, I told him to ‘quit it’ and he didn’t listen.”

“NOT GUILTY!” Bang of a gavel.

 It’s surely the defense I’m using.

Every morning we have a ritual at Bank of No Forks.  We fire up our computers and then adjourn to my office to read the Daily Picayune over coffee. Ava and I read the paper together and have a fine time doing it too, reading aloud especially funny or annoying things. As I’m sure you can imagine this happens frequently as, lately, the news has been ridiculous.

Actually, we thought that would be a fun cable access show, Me and Ava reading you the news and adding our own thoughts. The only problem is that then you’d see how really crazy we are, and we like to the keep the full force of our lunacy under cover.

Lately, even after weeding through all the political mumbo jumbo and such, we’ve been stymied by the Dear Abby column.

Who are these people who write to her? We’re concerned the authors of these letters don’t have enough real stuff to worry about. Take for example the following letter which has been exemplary of the type of “problem” I’m talking about.

One of my friends, “Max” cheats at golf. Otherwise he’s witty, interesting and fun to be around. He moves his ball closer to the hole on the green and “improves” his lie when he thinks no one is looking. I have tried to overlook Max’s transgressions, but others in our golf group talk and joke behind his back. How should I go about stopping the problem without stressing our friendship? – Florida Golfer

Really? Someone sat down, took pen to paper, and wrote this letter. Clearly, they’re not concerned with global warming, or the tenuous state of Greece’s political atmosphere, or the rising cost of being a tooth fairy.

I’ll tell you what you do, Florida Golfer. Heed this advice and everything will work out for the best. The next time he taps the ball with his foot to improve his lie, I suggest you subtly walk over to him without drawing excessive attention to yourself, gently take him by the elbow and yell, “STOP CHEATING, ASS HOLE!”

That ought to solve that problem lickety split.

 What’s your advice to the golfer? Have you ever written for help? Did you ever write an advice column yourself? Besides the obvious answer of the comics page, what amuses you the most in the paper these days?

I really, really wish that I could take credit for the following story. It’s a fabulous tale full of snark and deviousness.

The receptionist at Bank of No Forks is hysterical, a sarcastic genius, a brilliant set down artist. You’ve never heard anyone put someone in their place with such finesse. By the time she’s done with you, you aren’t sure exactly what happened, but you do know that whatever you thought you were going to bully her into as a lowly receptionist simply isn’t going to happen and you thank her for her time. Not that this has ever happened to me, mind you, but I’ve seen it happen to others and I stand in awe.

Knowing that background, you’re going to love this story.

She and her little family were at a get together at another family member’s home last week. At some point during the event, she excused herself to the bathroom. While in there, she was put out to discover there was no toilet paper present. There was, however, a box of Kleenex tissues on the counter so she plucked out several of those and finished her business.

While washing her hands she noticed certain interesting developments – down there.

Hmmm, she thought to herself. There was an odd tingling, cool heat sensation she couldn’t identify – although, I imagine she didn’t find it completely unenjoyable. She glanced over to the box of Kleenex and noticed, with no small amount of amusement, that they were methylated tissues.

Well that would explain the sensation.

Should I have found myself in her position I would have burst forth from the powder room and told everyone at the party a very rousing and self-deprecating story wherein I look like an idiot, such is my ingrained sense of humor.

Not her. No.

Instead, she steepled her fingers and laughed maniacally in the mirror. She walked nonchalantly out to the livingroom and resumed her seat on the sofa where she waited patiently for the next victim.

I do believe she said it was her mother of all people who exited the bathroom next. “So, Mom,” she asked as innocently as can be, “how’s everything?”

 Evil genius. I’m telling you.

So she didn’t set up the practical joke, but she sure enhanced it. Tell us the best joke you pulled off. Or what joke did someone play on you?