Boomer Humor

These are not original stories. As a matter of fact, they were emailed to me from a friend, who is experiencing the 6th decade of his life, as am I. Remarkably, we can find that we have many characteristics in common regarding our rapid journey into aging. And we wonder...will this be us?

1. Three retirees, each with a hearing loss, were playing golf one fine March day. One remarked to the other, "Windy, isn't it?"
     "No," the second man replied. "It's Thursday."
     And the third man chimed in, "So am I. Let's have a beer."

OK, I hate to say it, but this already sounds like some of my conversations with my husband. Except for the golf part.

     2. As a senior citizen was driving down the freeway, his car phone rang. Answering, he heard his wife's voice urgently warning him. "Herman, I just heard on the news that there's a car going the wrong way on I-77. Please be careful."
     "Heck!" said Herman. "It's not just one car! It's hundreds of them!"

This has not yet happened but it seems so within the realm of possibility.... And my favorite....

     3. Three sisters, retired, live in  a house together. One night, the oldest sister draws a bath. She puts her foot in and pauses. She yells to the other sisters,"Was I getting in or out of the bath?"
     The middle sister yells back, "I don't know. I'll come up and see." She starts up the stairs and pauses. Was I going up the stairs or down?
    The youngest sister was sitting at the kitchen table, having tea and listening to her sisters, she shakes her head and says, "I sure hope I never get that forgetful, knock on wood..."
     She then yells, "I'll come up and help both of you as soon as I see who is at the door."
    

Football Passion

I am pretty sure it’s Super Bowl weekend. In South Florida there seems to be a lot of Pittsburgh fans, and the only other team I am hearing about is the Green Bay Packers so I guess that's who they're playing.

OK, I’m admitting my shame. I am coming out of the closet and confessing my deepest darkest secret. I am one of the three or four remaining Americans who does not watch, appreciate, or understand football. I believe I may be football-challenged. In my case, I seem to be missing the part of the brain, the corpus footballus, the section that values grown men chasing an oblong piece of pigskin around a field. I just don’t get the point of the game.

I realize most people do not comprehend this Football Disability I’ve been born with. Football enthusiasts tailgate, paint their faces, and sport foam fingers. They wear ball caps or unusual head coverings shaped like various foods, like cheese wedges, and animals.  They are decorated with t-shirts, flags and banners. They drink beer, they celebrate, they party long into the night.

They know the stats of each player, they know the names of the players on their teams, and they follow their career progress like private detectives.

They laugh, they cry. They gloat, they sulk. They scream in anger, they sink down in despair. They rejoice and they revel. They dance and they pound on the bleachers. The entire range of human emotion is packed into one football game. As for me, is confusion considered to be an emotion?

For me, watching a football game is like trying to figure out an especially complex and difficult magic trick. In the couple of games I have attended, I can never locate the frickin’ ball. I have studied the huddle of players intently, they all scatter this way and that way, and that’s all she wrote. I can’t figure out which player I am supposed to be following.

“Where’s the ball?” I will ask of the friend next to me.

“What do you mean? It’s right there. The quarterback has it and…”

Everyone but me is on their feet cheering. My friend Teri is annoyed that she missed the play because she was trying to point out the ball to me.

In three more minutes I ask again, “Where’s the ball?”

“Shut up, Jeanne!” is her terse reply. “Watch the game.”

I can say this with certainty; wherever my eyes are, the action is somewhere else.

Eventually I stop worrying about the ball and focus on a player called the Tight End. I know how he got his name. Wow! Nice Ass, Mr. Tight End.

But the rest just all seems so pointless. These men are putting their lives in mortal danger to get their hands on that stupid ball. They clash and bash together in a giant player pile o’ body parts. The fans become silent, wondering if anyone is hurt. Then the mashed player on the bottom of the pile, staggers to his feet and waves at the crowd. Although he may have lost many of his IQ points in that battering, the fans scream and encourage him to do it all over again. Doesn’t that strike anyone else as odd?

So it seems that I shall live my life as an outsider, never really understanding the greatness and wonder of football. Just buy me a hot dog and a soda and let me sit and take it all in. I’ll get up and yell when everyone around me yells and I’ll become excited through osmosis as the spirit is passed on to me. And I’ll keep my eyeballs focused on Mr. Tight End.

Ok Just One More

    I did promise you a blog related to auctions and underwear so I guess it's time to bring it out. Today is a gorgeous sunny day in South Florida and I know how lucky I am to be here instead of the snow or ice-covered areas of the world. Rather than rejoicing outside, I am in here and preparing to write about the auctioning of underwear. It is not just any old underwear, though. (Well, it is old...but it is royal underwear.)

     An auction house in England wants to put up Queen Elizabeth II's unmentionables for sale. This is no new job for this particular auction house...they sold Queen Victoria's bloomers for $9,000. In the article I read, there were pictures of the aforementioned undergarments. The pictures caused an avalanche of not-so-genteel comments from readers.

     What would you do with someone else's used knickers? Are royal ones special enough to be worth having something that might creep people out? And what does Queen Elizabeth think about all of this? I don't know. It is a complicated issue. All I can say is, when I become famous, please do not auction off my underwear or my shoes. Neither should see the light of day, nor the light of the paparazzi.
As for me, when I see a regal pose of Queen Elizabeth now, all I can think about is, "I know what is under there. And it ain't pretty."

Panties Act as GPS!

     The never-ending subject of panties captures your attention again. This time, the ever-handy panty helps to guide an arctic expedition to its ultimate destination. (Get your mind out of the gutter right now.) This is an article I found on gizmodo.com, which I think has some very good articles on the usefulness of panties.

     I am happy to say that panties have been responsible for guiding people to where they need to go. (Why does everything sound like a double entendre?) Like seeing eye dogs, compasses, and GPS systems, panties are an inexpensive and clever way to find your way home. (Oops, there it is again!)

     The Catlin Arctic Survey Team takes this low-tech apparel to help them find their way in the freezing waters of the Arctic. Lacy panties at that. I am pretty sure they are not Manties. (See earlier post) The panties billow out like a sail, or wind sock, attached to a ski pole to guide the team to the North Pole. As you can imagine, the magnetic field disallows the use of a compass. The GPS freezes in that cold weather. I can just see the conversation.

     Navigator # 1: "Damn. Our GPS is frozen. How are we going to find ourself around this God-forsaken ice shelf?"

     Navigator #2: "I know. Let's use my handy-dandy compass I got when I was a girl scout."

     Navigator #3: "You know compasses don't work here. We are near the North Pole. Where did you study science anyway?"

     Navigator #2:"You don't have to be mean. Hey I have an idea. Let's use my panties."

     And so, in MacGyver-like fashion, the Panties Directional Guides were born. I'm ordering one for my car antenna.

Look! Up in the Air! It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's Panties!

     As I promised you in my last blog,  the subject of panties can be a fascinating one. This is from an article By Charlie Sorrel, who wrote about Flying Panties.

     "Flying panties?" you say in disbelief. "Where on earth could you find flying panties?"

     And of course we all know the answer, where all the cool things are....in Japan. If you should happen to be in Tokyo on March 6th, look up into the sky. You'll see hundreds of pairs of panties. The panties are made into ornithopters, which will all be launched at the same time.

     OK you are not sure what an ornithopter is, but you know panties flying around when you see them. Ornithopters are flying machines that flap wings to fly, instead of using a propellor. These machines are powered by rubber bands. Kits will be on sale to make your own to let fly on March 6th.

     The author goes on to say that it is a promotional stunt for publicity for a Japanese manga cartoon. Just in case you wonder, other flying machines will be launched at the same time but I don't think they will be nearly as interesting.

     As for me, I am wondering if any studies have been done on which panties fly best? cotton or nylon? manties or panties? thongs or briefs? high rise or low rise? There is much more to be learned about panty aviation.

Under Where?

     OK, once again the topic of underwear has crept up on me and formed an uncomfortable wedgie that will not go away until I have blogged useless information to you, the reader. Only then can I ease my mind of the images and the What ifs? that assail my imagination.

     First on my list of hot researched topics is something called "manties." These are promoted on a website for panties for men. They are panties that any woman would be proud to wear, satiny-looking and ruffly, delicate and ultra-lite. But they are for men. As the advertisement states, Panties are for women; Manties are for men!

     They are suggested for use on wedding nights, anniversary gifts, even retirement gifts. They even have the Manties of the week collection, so that you can have a pair for every day.  I admit I am having a chuckle or two picturing my husband strutting around in Manties. Especially on our wedding night.

     Now that I have totally grossed you out, be sure to tune in the next few days for some interesting information about panties used for technological purposes, aerial races, and sold on auction!

To Pee or Not to Pee

     I get a bit of flack from reviewers every now and then for mentioning the "p" word. I don't get it. We all do it, it is part of daily life, get over it. The latest information I have found, though, is that it is being used for fun and games. Let's travel to Japan, where "Streaming Video" has taken on a new meaning.

     I credit this information to my sister, who sent it to me earlier this month. It seems that the Japanese, according to some sources, have developed video games in the bathroom.

     "So what?" you say. "My kids do that all the time."

     According to my excellent sources, these mini-games are hooked up to the urinals and the speed of the game is controlled by the player's urinary efficiency. Yup! The more powerful your stream, the more points you get. A sensor inside the toilet will send the urinary stream information to a screen above the urinal for a visual display.

     One of the games I have heard about is "Mannekin Pis" which is a pee calculator.

     Another is "Graffiti Eraser," where players try to blast graffiti off a wall with the power of their stream.

     The other one is "North Wind and Her" where the participants try to "pee like the wind" and attempt to lift a woman's dress with their powerful urine streams.

     I have some concerns. Obviously this whole system is gender impaired because of the differences in the female anatomy. We have no "hose."

     In addition, how will they account for splashing? Powerful streams can be rather random in their landing.