Funny!


Hubby and I had a rare (and appreciated!) moment of ease, and as we both like stand-up comedy, we searched the channels. The only thing available was this no-name show which appeared to be full of Bill Clinton jokes. As we are both still feeling the sting (I know, we should get over it, already) of our Democratic leader losing the White House in shame, we didn’t think we’d like this show. We ignored it.

Two weeks later, and it was still there, double-dog-daring us. We avoided it again, successfully tuning to reruns of Ninja Warrior or Burn Notice.

But the damned thing wouldn’t go away. So we decided to face the demon.

I haven’t laughed that hard in years.

It was not what I expected.

Here’s this complete goombah, Rick Cleveland, who through chance and association with Aaron Sorkin, was in the right place at the right time, while Buddy was “piddling” on the rug in the Oval Office. Next come tennis balls, walks on the beach, double-dates with the angry Clintons, a jam session at Billy-Bob’s house, and an unscheduled hop to Amsterdam (with Christopher Walkin).

Whether this is considered stand-up comedy (and it shouldn’t be – dude’s a writer, but not a performer), or as I’m thinking on par with Hal Holbrook doing Mark Twain, it made me laugh out loud. And think a little better of our past President. And his Wife.

Rick always looked approriately stunned that he was speaking to the President.

The moment where he made ‘drummer face #5′ while jamming to Queen’s “Under Pressure” with Roger, Bill, and Billy Bob is priceless.

This is not stand-up comedy. This is history.

I have been remiss in my blogging – I admit it.

I have also been remiss in my blog reading, which is much more fun and adventurous for me, so I can truly apologize for that! (Y’all have been busy!) I miss you folks, and am truly glad y’all are still here.

But here is the real reason I have been remiss – other then the medical/dental issues, which I believe I have already mentioned (ahem) - this is pretty much all my life has been this month:

And who wants to read about that?

But here comes another season – all good serials take a break, right? (Hubby is orgasmic that ‘Burn Notice’ is coming back.)

I think I mentioned that Hubby and I are ‘Summer Fill-in’ kinda people. So bring on the Summer!

And I have a few things to mention.

The Obama explosion is one of the things I will give a nod to from day to day – though I won’t get nutters about it. I am an Obama girl, no doubt, but there are others doing my work, and I won’t bother to mention it unless compelled.

I have three children to make summer dreams come true for. Daunting. I have season tickets to an amusement park, a pool membership, and a tourist book. Y’all are going to learn more about Richmond, VA, than you ever wanted to know.

I plan to take my boys to Jamestown. And Yorktown. And the Capitol Building of the Confederacy. And many more – we live in Richmond. The opportunities for history are endless, and incredibly boring for a seven, eight, and twelve year-old. My job is to make history interesting.

My son just asked me how to spell ‘Barbie’. Yeep.

$$$

 

Hubby and I love the local Japanese steak house, Kabuto. We go there once or twice a month.

The last time we were there, we noticed this weird little golden cat, with its fist pumping up and down. Neither of us knew what this was about. Hubby asks me, “Why does the manager have a cat on his desk that looks like, ‘Fight the power!’?” He then made the same gesture as the cat, leaned over to me and whispered, “Meow, motherf**ker!”

Once I was back in control of myself (I probably laughed for a full ten minutes – I couldn’t help it. Hubby doesn’t normally talk like that, and it just killed me), I asked the manager what the cat was about. He said something in Japanese that I didn’t understand. I thanked him and let it go.

But I couldn’t let it go. So I spent some time looking into this cat phenomenon. (Once I noticed the first one, they began to pop up everywhere. Well, not really everywhere, but I eat sushi a lot and they’re in every sushi place I go to.)

They’re called Maneki Neko (beckoning cat), and they seem to be very popular.

The gold color is to attract wealth; the fact that it’s the left paw beckoning is to attract customers. The reason it looks like a fist is that Japanese beckon with their palm showing, as opposed to Americans and most other westerners, who beckon palm-in.

They’re available in all kinds of colors and styles, and the colors mean different things (red keeps away evil spirits, for example).

Now I think I have to run out and buy one of these things. I’m fascinated.

Who knew you could learn so much by web-searching for ‘Japanese steak house cat’?

 

My mother sent me this picture this morning. Thought I’d share…

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I can’t believe I haven’t seen this before. I laughed out loud several times. Dubya has some pretty good writers. And I think it’s a classy move on his part to make fun. The joke about the lawyers… well, lets just say it was a good thing I’d finished my coffee.

He also pokes fun at our own Senator Webb, and Barack Obama’s pecs. I’ll be chuckling all day.

Saw this on The Penultimate Word, and had to swipe it. Hillaryous!

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Cartoon by Daryl Cagle

Hubby’s in Toronto. Riding the Metro this morning, he was perusing the local paper, and came across and advertisement for the most amazing thing: Evil Dead, the Musical! Brilliant!

And my passport needs to be renewed. Little chance I can get that done before the show ends…

Maybe they’ll come to DC?

Now, I know the LOLCat thing is over. But it’s still good for a smile when you need one. I Can Has Cheeseburger is the mega-LOL storehouse, and I can spend some serious time there, laughing my head off.

And I don’t even have cats… Hubby hates them. Odd, as he’s both a Twain fan and a Heinlein fan. I didn’t think people who were into Twain and Heinlein were allowed to dislike cats? Isn’t that one of the rules?

So, it’s very early (7:30am or so) on a Saturday morning. As far as I know, Hubby is still dealing with his red-eye flight from Phoenix to Richmond. The closest I imagine he is to home is disembarking at the airport. Which leaves me about an hour until he arrives.

I’m in the shower.

The water pressure goes all screwy. Hard, then soft, then hard again. I mumble to myself, “Whassup with the water pressure?” as I bend down to check the faucet. I’m wondering if I put a load of laundry in that I forgot about?

“Don’t know. What is up?” says a deep, scary voice that then proceeds to slowly pull the curtain back…

Alfred Hitchcock and Janet Leigh are swimming through my head…

I scream for all I’m worth, swear with words I would never use in front of children, and try to keep myself from both fainting and ripping the shower curtain down off the rod. My blood pressure and heart rate shoot to the sky, and my feet try to find a gripping place (in a soapy shower) for the eternal ‘fight or flight’. I attempt the ‘fight’ stance. I must’ve looked ridiculous.

It’s Hubby. He wanted to surprise me.

He did.

He damn near killed me.

Hubby, for all I know, is still chuckling about this encounter. I’m still trying to control my breathing.

Not funny, damnit.

A few years ago, Middle Son heard ‘Feliz Navidad’ on the radio. He spoke no Spanish at the time (he’s taking lessons now, and doing really well! I have to study twice as hard to keep up!), and didn’t know what Feliz Navidad meant.

What he heard was, ‘Please Buy Me That.’ And that is what he proceeded to sing, at the top of his voice. Youngest Son took up the refrain.

Imagine for a moment, two small boys singing ‘Puh-leez buy me that!’ very loudly, walking through the mall. Hilarious.

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