The HumorSmith Chronicle

Funny Money

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:47:00 +0000

I am kinda like a TV network. I take a hiatus during the baseball playoffs.

Did you buy that? It sounds better than I am too filled with ennui to blog.

Seriously, nothing much has struck me as funny lately, which is a problem all in itself. Seriously, nothing's funny? Should humor be taken seriously at all? Haven't we already had this monologue?

I was amused by Maelstrom's question on my last post. If I was dead, how would I answer? Thanks for the concern, Mael.

The search for an apartment goes on. I am somewhat hampered by my inability to get two month's rent together at the same time. I occasionally have two dimes to rub together, but they just make a squeaky sound, and no one can tell where it comes fromme.

I am pretty much epic failing at finances. Who knew money spent never returns? All those bills that appear each month, they actually expect payment. What the hell kind of trick is that? I even owe my brother money, and I fear he thinks I am a deadbeat. He's right, but I had rather hoped he wouldn't catch on so quickly.

I am never sure where my money goes, and at this advanced point in my life, I had certainly hoped to have something saved. Hah! The good news is, I should be able to retire by age 98. That should give me a couple golden years. I'm starting to think I should have paid more attention to that whole grasshopper/ants story. I thought it was just an amusing kiddie tale. Now I get it...

I suppose I should feel relieved that I had no 401k to wipe out in last year's economic meltdown.

At this point, I'd settle for a 399k.

Is a humor blog supposed to bring you down?

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Screamin' Demon

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 02:40:00 +0000

Saw Paranormal Activity last night. Scared the hell out of me.

Simple premise: girl haunted by demon, boyfriend sets up vidcam in bedroom, evil things occur.

Of course, a scenario like that doesn't necessarily need demonic intervention to turn evil, but it's not that kind of film. If you like good, old fashioned fright, then check this one out.

If you like good old fashioneds, check this one out:

Oddly I had trouble sleeping afterward. Not because of the film, but because I kept waking up due to the cat sleeping on my head and sharing his fleas with me. One thing about ol' Dex, he is very giving. I just wish he'd be a little more discerning in his gifts; litter box treasures and biting vermin don't quite do it for me. Too much like my marriage, and we all know how well that ended.

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Long May We Rain

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 05:45:00 +0000

Did you know that if you are walking in the rain, and you are too near the curb, when cars drive by at speed you will get drenched?

Well, hell, I didn't. Call me a slow learner, (you in the back, stop pointing and snickering), but I expected carrying an umbrella would be enough to keep me dry.

I need an umbrella for my pants? Seriously? Must I go back to thinking of rubbers in nonsexual terms? Truly, the fact I was continually bathed by traffic didn't bother me as much as the hysterical laughter. C'mon, Seattle, wet former Phoenicians are not that funny.

My shoes, socks and pants were soaked. My legs and feet were chilled, and the squishing sound I made when I took a step emanated from my feet, not my shoes. Hiking shoes, I might add, although they did nothing for the miniature lakes of the U District. I realize it seems petty to complain about the natural phenomenon Seattle is most known for, but I do despise this weather, and it's not even winter yet. Right about now I really miss my car. Didn't I tell you? I turned it in; I grew weary of the repo man paying courtesy calls at 4 in the morning. At that hour it's not so much a courtesy as an invitation to a bitch slapping contest.

I get wet waiting for the bus, I get wet on the walk to work, I get wet on the walk home...face it, even my enthusiasm is dampened.I am becoming more and more certain SAD is a real illness, and not just a term coined by mental health professionals so they can write prescriptions and offer treatment. When I was a kid, we didn't have neat little illnesses like that. If we were hyperactive, we were called kids and given comic books with lots of colorful pictures to read instead of AA Milne.

If we occasionally got depressed, we weren't bipolar, we were bummed.The only issues in our lives were dad's Playboy collection. Baggage was something we packed to go on vacation. Our mantra wasn't,"I'm not happy",it was "Far out, man!"

Well, it was for my group anyway.

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Here And There

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

Sometimes nothing happens and that's a good thing. I admit it would be good to have blog fodder now and then, as occasionally the stuff in my brain is funnier in my brain.

If I went to Barcelona, perhaps I could come up with something witty like, "The brain in Spain stays mainly on the plain and simple life", but I doubt they get Paris Hilton there, either.

That's the good and bad thing about America: You don't need to have any particular talent or intelligence or bring anything of import, (or export) to be rich and famous.

Where's my check?

You see how my mind works now. One little image or thought leads to all else, and often the roads are not only less traveled, but downright dark and twisted.

I awoke in the middle of the night and wondered where the hell I was. That's nothing new; I've been wondering that for many years. I used to wonder who I was, but I gave up on that as soon as I discovered it didn't really matter. It's not who you are, it's who you know.

Unfortunately I don't really know anyone. All of which takes me back to the start.

Where the hell am I?

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Which Way Did They Go?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 18:24:00 +0000

"Do you know which movies you carry?"

"Well, what I don't know I can look up on the computer. What are you looking for?"

"I don't remember the title."

"Do you remember an actor's name, or the genre, what it was about?"

"No."

"?" That is my WTF mark.

Why was she even there? Why was she asking me to find a movie? Not just any movie, but the one she had no clue about. I bet she didn't even remember if she liked it. True story. Sadly, I didn't make this one up. Oh, and she was a college student.

I told her to try Googling dvd and call me when she found what she was looking for. She seemed a bit perturbed.

Not my problem.

I think her major was Eastern religions.

This may be why I don't get many Zen Buddhists looking for a particular movie.

The image wavers
In the lines real is blurred
I seek the winter's cold

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Blouse Of Cards

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 23:19:00 +0000

What started this?

Oh yeah, now I remember. I began blogging because I thought I had something to contribute. Turns out it is silliness. I suppose that's a contribution of sorts, but no one seems to take me seriously.

Should the Chronicle be taken seriously?

If I could beam it into your homes via satellite, perhaps then I would be taken siriusly.

Anyway, I am quite happy to be here. At this point in my life, I'm happy to be anywhere. What brings you here? Do you seek a chuckle? Or enlightenment? I really want to know. I think it's time I let you tell me why you're here. Maybe we can help each other figure out the big existential issues.

From a philosophical standpoint, I think silly is good. Certainly in a blog it is good. Whether it has real-life benefits is unknown. Do silly people get promoted and earn the big bucks? Do silly hunters get bloated and shoot the big bucks? Deer me, I've gone off on yet another tangent. One thing is certain: I don't make the big doe.

But I highly doubt money is what it's all about anyway. Nor is the hokey pokey. I once played hooker poker, but let's not go there, eh? It started out as strip poker, but the sheer excitement, (not to mention the sheer lingerie), made it impossible to draw a good hand. And it's very important, not to say critical, to show all hands in strip poker. That's what the women tell me anyway. Apparently they want to know in particular what and where my hand is at all times.

Whatever happened to trust?

Playing poker for clothes is not that much fun. Money is better,but it's difficult to tailor it properly.

A suit of cards now....

*Sorry about the lack of a photo, but Blogger seems to have lost the toolbar for editing posts. Now that's silly.

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Wretched Excess

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

It's not so much I work to survive, it's that I work so I can purchase food and shelter.

What would I do if idle and well-fed anyway? Blog, probably. Pet my cat. And seek validation. The mere fact of my existence pretty much leads me to conclude I am making an income. I work, therefore I am. Would it make more sense to say I am, therefore I work?

Who's the genius behind those wonderfully witty "My worst day fishing is better than my best day at work"bumper stickers? Is the author unemployed? If so, he really needs to find work so he will stop assaulting us with those moronic axioms. I have an axiom to grind also, but you won't find me printing it on a sticker.

Work is often referred to as the daily grind or the pit of hell. In the past when things have gotten that bad, I have either quit or performed some act of random and extreme idiocy and been given my walking papers. Walking papers isn't quite right. After such a humiliating occurrence, I really don't walk so much as crawl away with my vestigial tail tucked between my legs.

After all, isn't that the whole point of being "boss"? Just having the power to ruin someone's life is an incredible rush. I have always held that power, whether manager or not. Sometimes one of my inevitable and horrific puns is enough to send people running away retching.

I love that word. I don't think we use retch enough. It's so descriptive and yet not vulgar. You can have fun just by adding a "w". "Retchw". See?

A man's retch should never exceed his grasp, because no one else will clean up after you.

Now that's a bumper sticker.

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A Fool And His Money

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

If you are attacked by circus geeks, is that a freak occurrence?

I suppose that kind of question is one of the dangers of thinking too much. Or of having too much free time. Either way, it's a burden.

Speaking of burden, does anyone have a copy of The Animals' greatest hits I can borrow? I'm too lazy to download.

Sometimes I miss my radio days, but I have to admit although the jobs were fun, the pay was crap. I have never been able to figure out why it seems so hard to match fun work with good money. You know how all the self-help gurus tell you to do what you love and the money will follow? When I do what I love, the money runs faster in the opposite direction.

I once tried to do who I love and make money, but I'm pretty sure you can guess how that worked out. I am making a decent income now and I really like my job, but it doesn't ignite my creativity like being a DJ did. That's probably why I blog, but let's not even talk about money from this. I do it for the love. Also, I know if I can make just one person a little happier, lighten someone's load just a tiny bit, put a smile on someone's face and make their day brighter, well then....

You're not buying that even a little bit, are you? Damn, you people are cynical.

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Embarrissed

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 07:00:00 +0000

Streisand has a new CD, as does Harry Connick, Jr. Must we always include the Jr. when referring to this guy? What the hell, at this point would anyone really think his dad's put out a new CD?

The reason I bring this up is because both releases are covers of standards. I love that music, but must every singer on the planet record them? I am not bothered so much by these two as I was by Rod Stewart's venture into Sinatraland. Holy crap...that was worse then being tied to a chair and forced to listen to a Kenny G concert.

Rod's an admirable rocker, but a standards interpreter? Gack! Wake up Maggie, your boy's outta bed again and wreaking havoc. Well, actually just reeking, but still...

C'mon you guys, do I steal your tunes and sing them in public? No, I can't sing. Sadly, that doesn't stop a lot of people from entering recording studios and assaulting the microphone. Just watch any American Idol and you'll know what I'm talking about. There's a reason Simon's so damn cranky.

At least on The Gong Show the performers knew they were crap. Plus they didn't release albums, (this was before the CD revolution, of which many are pretty revolting) and we were allowed to laugh them off the stage. Chuck Barris, where are you?

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What, Me Mad?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 07:00:00 +0000

I have never had a panic attack. I tend to quiver in terror and hide in the office whenever things start to get ugly, but an actual attack of panic? Nah.

I am not so certain panic can attack anyway. I mean, where are its headquarters? Its generals and commandos? Weapons? Hah! I will admit I have occasionally been assaulted by the willies, but if this is the best panic can offer in the way of armed forces, pardon me while I sneer with disdain.

It's all in the mind, and as I have so much more important stuff taking up space in my gray matter, I remain unconcerned about any major invasions.

Lately I have taken the advice of the great Alfred E. Neuman and ceased fretting about mundane matters. Tuesdane and wednesdane matters, maybe, but not mundane. Even taken all together, these matters are week at best, so what's to worry?

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Paper Trail

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 07:00:00 +0000

I have disconnected from the news, unless you count Entertainment Weekly.

The folks with whom I am residing do not take the paper. I do not watch newscasts. I am not current with events. I don't care.

All that kind of information does is allow me to form opinions I can dispense at will, (or anyone else who's listening) thus appearing intelligent and opinionated. I am not. I either like something or firmly believe a certain situation should go one way or the other or I do not.

I do not miss the news. I do not feel out of step with civilization. I am fine, thanks. I trust I will be able to hear the nuclear blast, and as knowing ahead of time would only cause me to worry about something inevitable, I am really okay with being uninformed. I am not so okay with being uniformed, which most likely explains my avoidance of all things military.

Mind you, as soon as I move out of here, I am going to subscribe to the paper. I miss the crosswords and Dilbert.

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Rut's New?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 18:30:00 +0000

I think I'm back in the groove. Or is that the rut? What's the difference between a groove and a rut? One seems to be, well, groovier than the other, but still. They are both depressions of some sort, although whether a depression in reality or the ground I am not sure.

I am not depressed, but I am in a depression? I think I prefer being in a groove. Does anyone ever wear a rutted brow? A grooved brow? Maybe not, but there are plenty of furrowed brows to be found. I prefer to rely on Shakespeare's wise words and neither a furrower nor a lender be.

Naturally, being a lender would require I have something to lend, but we all know that's ridiculous. I have a cat, a car which the finance company is trying mightily to reclaim, and a couch upon which I repose. I used to merely pose, but as I could never get that first one just right, I found it necessary to repose. Soon, I will have been at it long enough to relinquish my amateur status and consider myself a proposer.

What was that about a rut?

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I Give You My Word(s)

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 07:00:00 +0000

Plethora

Go ahead, I'm certain you can make something funny out of that, although I think it's funny just as it is.

Gondola: I don't know why, this word just makes me grin.

Dangle: Do I really need to explain?

Puberty: Obviously.

Homophobia: I'm scared to go home.

Blip: Not a dirty word, but it sure should be.

Tumescent: See "dangle".

Crapulous: C'mon now. Can you say fish in a barrel?

There. I've now given you enough funny to go and write your own humor blog. Hell, you could probably create a whole standup routine with this material. If you don't see the funny, then I'm afraid you'll just have to keep coming back here.

A bonus freebie: jocular

Go for it. Extra points for being subtly smutty, or smutble.

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Get A Grip

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 02:04:00 +0000

My peter cottons tail.

I thought that sounded better than just saying I'm horny. Maybe not.

Now I've probably done it, huh? Bet you'll never look at Thornton Burgess the same way again.

I've often wondered why they call it "getting some tail", but I'm sure I have lots more time to think about these things than you. Every now and again I think it might have something to do with lonely farmhands, and then I'm immediately sorry I brought the whole thing up.

Pretty evident what I've been thinking about lately isn't it? I could say that the lack of a woman's presence in my life guarantees that I always think about sex, but that's how it was when I was married too, so I don't know what to tell you. I really have no idea why I'm telling you this, except I feel we've grown very close these past months, and I know you understand.

There are more important things than sex, but....um....gimme a minute here, I'm sure there's something more important....oh yeah. My health. *snort*

Sure I'm healthy, but so what? It just means I have more energy to, um, well, um....I'm developing a roaring case of tennis elbow, and I don't play tennis.

There I go sharing again.

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What We Got Here......Is Failure....

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 19:36:00 +0000

"Yeah, I'm looking for anything you've got by Johnny Winter."

"The Johnny Winter of Edgar Winter and rockin' fame?"

"Johnny Winter."

"Um, okay. I'll look that info up for you. Let's see, we've got...(I reel off a big list of titles)..were you looking for one in particular?"

"I just asked what you have. Have you got a copy of _________?"

"Not so much."

"You have a very unusual way of expressing yourself. I just want a straight answer. Can you get that disc?"

"Okay, here's the skinny......"

(An unintelligible stream of obscenities followed by a loud slamming of phone)

Once again, a true story. There were no names to change because he didn't give one. The anonymity of the telephone gave him the courage to verbally abuse me.

I love my job.

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Emptiness

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 05:30:00 +0000

"An absolute lack of clarity."

See? And that's just one review of my blog. I'm a success. Pretentious people are making inane statements about the worth of my musings.

Hah!! There is no worth to this blog at all....none...nada....bubkes.

Take that, Jeffrey Lyons and Peter Travers. Feh!

Thing is, I deliberately aim for vapidity.I refuse to engage in meaningful discussions on a humor forum. Face it, when it comes to serious topics, you're either forum or agin 'em. See? Vapidity, glorious and unexpurgated. I did once try to put a gate on it, but it fell off. I don't think my hinges are too good. As anyone who knows me can attest.

A test? I score well on them, thanks. In fact, whenever someone gets testy around me, I hand them a pencil and paper. Occasionally people will get testes around me, but that's another problem entirely. And for some reason, the testes people always travel in pairs. But enough of this...I'm a groin man and I should behave in a mature fashion.

I dressed in a mature fashion a while ago, but I couldn't walk in those heels. What a drag that turned out to be.

And as Sam Cooke so famously sang :"Vapid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow go...."

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Mac Attack

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 04:42:00 +0000

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm looking for MacGruder."

"Um, MacGyver?"

"No, MacGruder. It's a British TV series."

"Okay. Let me check the computer. Hmm, McGrude....no. MacGruder....nope. MaGrewder....nope. I'm sorry, I can't find it."

"Well, I really like it and it stars Kenneth Branagh."

"Thanks, that helps. I'll do an actor search....hmmm, no MacGruder....the only Brit series I show with Branagh is...nah, that can't be right...."(walking over to Brit TV aisle, I bend down and snag the only copy of Wallander on the shelf.)

"Thanks! That's it!"

"But...erm, I thought..."

"Thank you. You are great."

"And confused."

The above is a true story. The names have been changed to protect my job.

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Charming

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 19:58:00 +0000

I'm not looking. I swear!

Summer breaks.

And some aren't.

As to my extended absence, I have a very good excuse: I didn't feel like blogging. As opposed to that great Leo Sayer hit, "You Make Me Feel Like Blogging". That's right isn't it? That's the title?

No matter. I can't say I'm back, as I never really went anywhere. I have been right here all along, just not as a participant. Or a participle. Maybe past imperfect, but I think that's going too far. Also, I'm not feeling particularly tense at the moment. Maybe I will yesterday.

I have been raptly watching the first season of "Charmed". Okay, I've been raptly watching Alyssa Milano's tops, waiting for the cleavage exposing ones. Still, I have become hooked on the 6 leads. Erm, wait, the 3 leads. Of course, if you count each breast as a separate character, and Alyssa's certainly are big enough, then you'd have 6. Pretty charming, eh?

The foregoing may go a long way toward explaining why I am still single. Perhaps obsessing about certain parts of the female anatomy is a bit of a date killer? How the hell would I know? I haven't dated since the Napoleonic era. It's getting a bit crowded in my land of losers. I could use a little Elba room.

Has anyone ever gone as far as that to concoct a pun? Doubtful.

If we are not supposed to look at a woman's chest, then why do so many dress in a way to draw men's eyes directly to the area? I mean, I've nearly given myself whiplash from raising my gaze rapidly upward so I will not be caught admiring. It's like a well endowed guy running around in Speedos. Are women not supposed to look, and does this mean I should stop buying rolls of quarters?

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Foreplay

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 04:18:00 +0000

"Who do you think you are?"

"_________"

"Well?"

"Um, is that a trick question?"

"No."

"Who do you think I am?"

"HumorSmith."

"Oh, thank God. For a minute there I thought you were a pod person. Or I was."

"Pod person?"

"Yeah, you know. I like peas, you like peas, we have a lot in common. Like two peas......*achoo!*"

"Is that an analogy?"

"No. I might be catching a cold is all."

"*sigh*"

"Need your inhaler?"

"Talking to you makes me feel like I'm inhale already."

"Nobody likes a smart asthmatic."

"Stop avoiding the question."

"What question?"

"Who do you think you are?"

"Didn't you already ask me that?"

"You never answered."

"Yes I did. I asked if it was a trick question."

"Answering a question with a question is not an answer."

"Maybe it was a trick answer."

"Why do you want to trick me?"

"Because I have the strangest feeling there may not be any other way out of this discussion."

"This isn't a discussion. It's a circle jerk."

"Then how come I'm not having fun?"

"Because your pants are still on."

"Do you think I can't have fun with my pants on?"

"Depends who you are, I guess."

"Hey, I can have pants fun."

"Really? Who do you think you are?"

"An oversexed tailor?"

"I refuse to call you Elizabeth."

"That's okay. She never calls me either. I think she still misses Richard Burton."

"I'm surprised you can't make her forget him. You're a real dick."

"Hey!"

"That's all you got? 'Hey!'?"

"Well, you caught me off guard. If I'd known you were going to talk dirty, I'd've worn bigger pants."

"The way you eat, pretty soon you'll have to."

"Hey! Again!"

"Wow...a little more witty repartee like that, and I'll have to lie down."

"Mind if I lie down with you?"

"In that body? Don't make me laugh."

"Whose body do you suggest I use?"

"Not mine."

"I prefer to think of it as sharing."

"Some sharing. Ten minutes and you're out."

"Who do you think you are?"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"My what?"

"Your identity."

"Not fair. You've got a bigger pair of identities than I'll ever have."

"You think my breasts have their own names?"

"They're big enough to have their own zip codes."

"Keep talking like that, and you'll have to write a letter to them."

"Why?"

"Because they won't be here."

"Where are they going?"

"Me...where am I going."

"Oh yeah. Sorry. I assumed they could drive. Especially at night."

"?"

"Well, I mean, can you see those high beams?"

"That's it. I will not stay here and allow you to make fun of me."

"Where do you suggest we go to do it then?"

"Oh, we won't be doing it for a very long time, buster."

"Ah hah!"

"'Ah hah'?"

"No wonder you had to ask who I thought I was. You don't even know."

"What are you talking about? I know perfectly well who you are."

"No you don't. You think my name is Buster."

(*door slams!*)

(.) (.)

"What's wrong girls? She take the car keys?"

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The Secret Of My Suckcess

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 09:00:00 +0000

No reason for any of this really. I just like the sound of my own typing.

Wow...I have the weekend off. I am stunned. Of course, I feel that way most of the time, but now I have a reason. Weekends off never happen in retail, and this one wasn't preceded by a "You're terminated."

Why is it they always have to sound like Arnold when they say that? As if that makes it any easier to hear. Is it so I won't give them any trouble? Trust me, when I am being fired, the last thing on my mind is causing trouble. The first thing on my mind is revenge, sure, but trouble? Nah.

As a termination veteran, I can tell you one thing: it really has an adverse effect on your lifestyle. That's why I have worked hard to have no lifestyle. Life, obviously, but style? Please. I have no one to impress except myself, and I'm easy.

Does it count as style when you live in a basement, and your hobbies are internet porn, beer, and cat grooming? I thought not. See? No pressure to keep up with the neighbors. On the contrary, many are trying to keep down with me. They say that the simplicity of my life is very attractive.

Who'd ever have thought having minimal disposable income, no sex life, a car on the repo man's "Most Wanted" list, a retail job and about 10,000 jazz CDs would create envy in the high incomed hordes? If only I'd known this a decade ago; I could have stopped struggling and embraced my inner underachiever and been happy. I guess. Let me think....yeah, I'm pretty happy.

I finally figured out that those who say money isn't everything don't have any. It's called making the best of things. I have no money and lots of nothing, but it's all good. I have a good time, I enjoy my own company, and I have some pretty cool music.

Money isn't everything.

Money isn't everything.

Money isn't everything.

Excuse me, I've gotta go thread a camel through a needle now.

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Dine Hard With A Vengeance

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 07:00:00 +0000

My diet sucks. No, I am not on a diet. I eat very badly. I don't mean I dribble stuff down my front, although that does happen. I mean I am a fast food HumorSmith. Lots of calories and no protein value.

Maybe that's why I'm not blogging daily. I don't have the strength.

I didn't think I had a problem until I went to the drive-thru, ( I hate that spelling)at McDonald's and they greeted me by name. Some people are known at fancy restaurants, where the maitre d' calls them by their first name and gives them a warm ~~milkshale~~ handshake. Not me, nope, I am far more plebeian apparently. McDonalds?

I must make an effort to eat better. Maybe I should learn to cook....nah. That wouldn't be good for anyone, least of all me. Is gin one of the basic food groups? I hope so, because I certainly feel fortified after a good stiff belt. Actually my pants feel more fortified with a stiff belt; I just feel ready to take on the world. Okay, this country. All right, my city. Neighborhood? Roommate? Toothless homeless guy on the corner?

There's a basic reason inebriated people shouldn't fight: lack of coordination. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't fight a guy wearing a red shirt and pink slacks. Keep in mind it can be tough dressing under the influence. I don't speak from experience, but I have read things.

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An Outcrast

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 01:21:00 +0000

I shall be with you forthwith. Perhaps even fifthwith, as it's been a long day.

The repo man has tracked me down. I suppose now he'll want the car back. Good grief....people get so testy when you don't pay them. I made two year's worth of payments. What more could they want?

I know, I know. But let's face it: if the HumorSmith was the responsible type, then you wouldn't find so much about which to laugh in his blog.

Thing is, I tend to procrastinate regularly, and every now and then it comes back and bites me on the butt, something which only my ex used to do. Hey! I thought she loved me. Nah, she was only looking for a place that wouldn't leave visible marks.

You ever think about how there's only one letter missing between sex and ex? That means something I'm sure, but I don't have the energy to look for it. Strange that it's an "s", though. She used to make that sound quite often; I thought she had a problem with sibilance, but now I suspect she was rating my performance.

Hmmm. Apparently not only do I procrastinate, but I also dissimilate. I tried Ex-Lax for my procrastination, but it didn't help. Maybe when I get around to taking some it will be more effective. 'Tis a dreadful thing to be procrastinated, though I guess I'll have to wait to find out just how dreadful.

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Disparate

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 00:46:00 +0000

I'm a little tired this evening. Today at work we celebrated the running of the muck. Most always it is running amuck, but as there were many of them today, I use the plural.

I once lived in an apartment that was far too noisy for me. It had hot and cold running amuck.

Each month, we change out all the displays in the music department. This is called changeover. We used to try our damndest to hand the task to someone else, and then we called it passover, but as that term has been co-opted by the Jewish faith, and since we could never find anyone to take it away from us, it has become known as changeover, or sometimes, "How the hell did I get into this?"

I am quite glad it's done for another month. Now all I have to do is keep the displays full and watch out for lifters of shop, and it'll all be fine.

Have you ever tried to buy a coat of paint? I sometimes think it'd be neat to have something like that to wear, but I can't find a store that sells them. I get tired of all my monochromatic jackets. I would really like to have a more colorful coat, but so far every salesperson I have asked tells me it's impossible to wear a coat of paint. They tell me that right before they burst into uncontrollable laughter. I just can't believe I can't buy something every house and car in the world gets to wear. What makes them so special?

I even asked Sherwin-Williams, and they said "Huh?" So much for truth in advertising. I tried making my own, but when it dried it was so stiff I couldn't get my arms into the sleeves. Also, I left a mess every time I brushed up against something.

Usually I make a mess when I brush up against a beautiful girl, but that's a much more pleasant experience, and it washes right off.

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Ineff Is Ineff Already!

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 07:00:00 +0000

Some have told me that my humor is ineffable. Olay, I'll go with that, although with regard to my success rate with women the last couple years, I'd say I am more unf'able.

Yipe....take a look at that typo. I believe my subconscious is trying to take over, which will not be a pretty situation for any of us. I mean, you all have witnessed my conscious blogging, so I'm sure you can imagine what the sub will be like. I'm pretty certain it may be bipolaris, so be warned. I shall do my best to remain conscious, but I make no guarantees.

As to my unf'ability, well...that is merely the collective opinion of the wenches upon whom I have lavished my attention. Maybe lavish is too strong a word. Upon whom I have turned my winning smile. Upon whom I have bestowed repeated friendly contact.
Upon whom I have turned my charm. The women I've ~~stalked~~ used my spectacular customer service skills upon.

Sometimes the full HumorSmith personality can be overwhelming. I get that, but is it really necessary for them to remark that if I was the only man on the planet, they'd turn lesbian? I, too am lesbian, however when I explain that to them, they mock me.
I am truly baffled by their failure to realize how wonderful I am. I've got charm, a sense of humor, good looks and humility. What do they want?

Oh....money. Well, I've got charm and personality. And a blog. Y'know, I think I see the problem here. Maybe letting the sub out isn't such a bad idea after all. I mean, how much worse could it get? At least I wouldn't be consciously aware of the rejection. Of late, the best relationship I've had is with you, but it's kind of unsatisfying. I mean, some of you are guys. Also, the only part of you I touch is your funny bone. Lucky for me you give good comment.

This whole thing is a trend; I knew I was in trouble when I had to celibate my birthday alone.

*Ahem* Please notice the followers counter at left
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While quite pretty, the HumorSmith would like to see more. He can be insecure at times, and a higher number of followers would greatly ease his anxiety. Unless you are planning to stalk him, in which case he respectfully declines the offer, screams like a little girl and runs away.

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Neither Here Nor There

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 07:00:00 +0000

A choice. Should I read or watch TV? If my life gets any more exciting, I may have to go back on the Xanax.

You know that's a joke, right? You don't think I really take....oh. Well, stop that right now. My blog is 100% natural and is not the product of any reality distorting products.

Honestly, with things the way they are in life, do you truly think I need chemical enhancement to find the weird? Most days it arrives on my doorstep,neatly packaged with a card that says, "Wish you weren't there." I'm never quite sure how to take that sentiment, but I go on nonetheless.

If I wasn't here, exactly where would I be? I don't often think about such things, mainly because the physical world is more than enough for me to handle, never mind the metaphysical. That's why I was a bit leery when I first learned about meta tags. I mean, how can those be good? In truth, they're pretty benign, and I often use them on my pictures to generate more hits. "Hits"....wow, yet another drug reference. What must you think of me?

In any event, my hereness is probably self evident. I mean, if I wasn't here, just how would I be blogging? And if I am somewhere else entirely, then where are you? I find it's usually necessary for me to be completely here when I write, as any other approach results in muddled comedy.

Most people tell me my humor is fair to muddling anyway, so I'm sure you understand why I always try to be present. If any of you would like to give me presence, I'm afraid you're too late, as my birthday was day before yesterday. Thanks for the thoughts, though.

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