Did you hear about the man who fell asleep on his horse? He has night mares.

A Wee bit late this morning.  Managed to get to the flooded park and actually put in 90 minutes of cycling.  Not bad considering.

So what follows is a Blonde Joke that the blondes will like.  Promise!  And I'll even toss in a shorty at the end because I'm that way!



 Reverse engineering

Two engineers were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking at its top. A blonde walked by and asked what they were doing.

"We're supposed to find the height of this flagpole," said Sven, "but we don't have a ladder."

The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a couple of bolts, and laid the pole down on the ground.

Then she took a tape measure from her handbag, took a measurement and announced, "Twenty one feet, six inches," and walked away.

One engineer shook his head and laughed, "Typical blonde! We ask for the height and she gives us the length!"







In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the Mystic delivered grave news: "There's no easy way to tell you this, so I'll just be blunt. Prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year." 

Visibly shaken, Laura stared at the woman's lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself - and to stop her mind racing. She simply had to know. 

She met the Fortune Teller's gaze, steadied her voice and asked, "Will I be acquitted?"

Did you know before they invented crowbars, crows mostly drank at home?

Sunny Saturday Morning here, and we are in the secret season.  Snowbirds haven't yet flown south, and that's good because I don't want to share my fried plantains with anyone!  :)

One plantain beginning to turn from yellow to black, sliced into medallions, dusted with cinnamon and sugar, and fried in a teaspoon of butter.

You can't complain about that for breakfast even if it is a bit high in carbs.




A beaver wants to start dating. He sees a nice girl online, reaches out and they agree to meet at the bar.

The beaver arrives first and orders a drink. Just then the girl arrives. He looks at her and sees the flat tail, webbed feet, brown fur and then…. Oh no, her face!

She comes over and he blurts out, “you’re a platypus!”

She seems slightly embarrassed, “well, yes, there was a picture of me on my online profile”

“Oh, I thought you were just doing duck lips for the camera.”

She sits and the bartender takes her order.

The beaver goes on, “I’m sorry, just not too many platypuses around, I mean, are you even from here?”

The platypus, now visibly upset says, “I don’t know why that is any of your dam(n) business!”

“What does my families construction company have to do with this!” And the beaver stands up and leaves.

The bartender comes over with the platypuses drink and says, “err, sorry love, but he didn’t leave any cash or a card.”

The platypus sighed, “I guess this means the bills on me” 

Social Media, Ads, and other Annoyances and Time Sinks.

On a day after the elections, when the blue tsunami has hit showing that we the people haven't indeed lost our minds to the Magas, I sit here pondering online advertising.

See, I run a lot of software to block ads.  A Bloody Huge amount.  Recently Facebook decided to tweak their page.  Their right.  But when I see five ads, literally, for ever single pertinent "friend's post" i have to question why I bother.

On the other hand, I hear this often.  People dropping Facebook for other alternate social media outlets.  I've kept Facebook going for family.  I don't have a lot of "friends" on there, but I do that for a reason.  Only about 150 friends there and almost all are family or a direct connection. 

On Blue Sky, I do.  13000 at last count.  I have been vetting like-minded people there who have stumbled across what I am putting out and who think "hey, let me follow him".  Both outlets I have the same attitude - find me, and I will see what you have to say.  

Early on, I decided chasing fame online was overkill.  I go about my business, and do my thing.  The blog is my own echo chamber, a scratch pad for my life.  I put thoughts out into the ether, and things that I feel that I need to remember.  Deep dives into mechanical maintenance on sports equipment, or total teardowns of electronics, or cooking/baking.  Ya know, normal crap that I decided I needed a ramble on about.

Since 2009, I have been doing that.  I don't seem to want to stop that so many years later, even if it is canned humor on the weekends that have its own audience, and I have been recipe heavy on Wednesdays.

Good grief, have I really been doing this blather for 17 years?

It's all kind of feeding itself, pun intended.  After all if I am going to make something to fuel my training efforts, I will want to keep that recipe where I can get at it.  Everything is tested, and vetted.  It's also right sized so it doesn't cause issues.  

So I have had my fun for the day on there.  I think I may have reported more than 50 ads for ludicrous reasons, and that could be closer to 100.  

I don't understand why, nobody likes them, and there isn't really any reason why I would have someone screaming at me to buy their product.  It won't change my mind.  Especially at this ponderous volume that they have decided to shout at me, you, and everyone.

Can't say that the "Influencer" life makes all that much sense.  I"m kind of an edge case.  Sitting in my rocker, listening to a Soca station in London, while the thunder rumbles on the 16th day in a row.   I doubt I'd find many people in the US that like to listen to Caribbean music, unless they have a connection there.  I don't but I am amused.

So influence away.  I'll keep blasting away at annoyances.  Besides, I have to go tend to the oven.  It's time to set out food for dinner.  

I was gonna tell a joke about time traveling ...But you guys didn't like it.

 Ok, today is time change day.  For most of us at any rate.  Set your clocks back an hour where you need to.

That reminds me of Mom's Lincoln.  It had a clock that was just easier to leave alone on whichever time it was set because it was wickedly difficult to find just the right set of buttons to set.

As for the clock on the stove?  It's a touch screen and for some reason touch screens and I are not friends.  I despise them.  They may work for you but not for me.

Ask me how I feel about this whole smart phone economy some day, I hate it.

As I am listening to the 6AM news broadcast on CBC Canada I am thinking they are going to have a collective well thought out decision as to whether to stop this twice yearly ritual.  They are already chipping away at it.

Here, we have said a resounding No to it but like everything else in Washington, gridlock is the rule.





One day in the junk shop


Back in the days of my youth when I used to help the owner out, I was pleasantly surprised to see a lovely young woman come in, look around a bit and then come up to the counter. "Please," she said, in a voice that sounded kind of Russian, "I am looking for one night stand."

Well, when I was young and bold I used to know what to do, and as there was no-one else in the shop I shut up early and we got along to a bar I knew where they used to have a talent night, and over cocktails we watched a young magician doing his stuff, and as I recollect down the years, he was pretty good. Then later we went along to about the fanciest restaurant I could afford, I saw her back to her front door after dinner, leaned in for a kiss and was delighted to be invited in for coffee.

Like I say, back then I used to know what to do (I still do, but the flesh is weaker now than then), and I'll draw the curtain of discretion over the next eight hours or so, until the sun crept over the windowsill and I turned to her and said, "Well, how was that?"

"Was wonderful," she said with a sigh, "but I still have nowhere to put alarm clock."

A time traveller steps on a butterfly and says "Ah no! Not this again"

So for today, it's a bunch of short ones.   Six, Short, and Sweet.  I have a friend like that up North so this one is for you, and all the short and sweet dears out there! 




My brother went to a job interview,

Manager: “this is an impressive resume, but what were you doing during this 4 year gap? “
Brother: “I went to Yale”

Manager: “Well, in that case, you’re hired!”
Brother: “Thank you! I really need this yob”.



 I called a psychic to ask if I’d ever stop wasting money.
She said, “Absolutely.”
I said, “When?”
She said, “That’ll be another $40.”



I keep trying to negotiate a better bargain on a used carousel
No matter how much we discuss it, we just keep going around and around.



I just caught a glimpse of my laugh lines in the mirror.
I don't remember anything being THAT funny.




A man accidentally bumps his canoe into someone else's. He was promptly attacked.
It was a case of rowed rage



Whats green has four legs and if it falls out of a coconut tree will kill you?
A pool table.

Scratch Muffin Mix Recipe, This Time With Pumpkin Spice

 This pumpkin spice thing.  It's a recipe I have used for years and I keep it on hand because it is a nice change of pace.  

It works in Coffee, Homemade Soap, and this time I made Muffins with it.

I used a Tablespoon in this mix that is completely from scratch because I wanted something a little different in the freezer for snacks.  The picture has Raisins along with the Pumpkin Spice and the trick with baking with them is to add the raisins to a coffee mug with equal amounts of boiling water and allow them to soak.  It adds a little bit of chew.  Drain off the water, and bake as your "add in" on the muffin mix.  One cup of add ins by volume is recommended.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups All Purpose Flour
• 2/3 cups Sugar
• 1 teaspoon Baking Powder
• 1/2 teaspoon Baking Soda
• 1/4 teaspoon Salt
• 2 teaspoons Powdered Milk or Buttermilk Powder

Process:

Makes 12 Muffins - I put the batter in a plastic bag, snip the corner off, then pipe it into the muffin cups.  Nice and even sized muffins.

Add Mix to bowl with the following Ingredients:

• 3/4 cup Milk
• 1 Egg, Beaten
• 1/4 cup Melted Butter
• 1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract
• 1 cup of add ins such as Nuts/Raisins/Chocolate Chips
• To make Chocolate Muffins - Add 4 Tablespoons Cocoa
• To make Pumpkin Spice Muffins - Add 1 Tablespoon Pumpkin Spice Mix

Bake at 350F for 18 minutes and remove when toothpick inserted in the middle of a cupcake comes out clean.

Bigamy has its own penalty… Two Mothers-In-Laws!

 Ok so the topic is very 1950s boomer humor but it made me have a dopey smile so I'll pass that on.

Where as this little gem reminds me of the stories of the food deliveries during Covid Lockdown and later.  How were your fries?





Bitten menu

"Excuse me, waiter!" Says the man
Waiter: yes, can I help you sir?

Man: yes what does it it mean by "bitten burger" here on the menu?
Waiter: because the burger has a bite taken out of it

Man: a bite?... out of the burger?
Waiter: yes sir

Man: and what about the steak, is that bitten too?
Waiter: yes sir, it's bitten as well.

Man: ah but I see here on the menu that the salmon doesn't have "bitten" written with it
Waiter: yes but it comes with bitten potatoes instead

Man: why?
Waiter: because I don't like salmon

I need advice on how to handle a very controversial situation. Earlier today, I lathered and rinsed, but I did *NOT* repeat.

Ahh the things I get away with when the house is "empty"!



Another one of those that when I re-read for the dozen-th time, I got a chuckle out of it.

Here you go!





Southern charm

In a crowded city, at a busy bus stop, a beautiful young woman in a tight mini skirt waited for the bus.

When the bus arrived and it was her turn to board,

her skirt was so tight she couldn’t lift her leg to the first step.

Slightly embarrassed, she flashed a quick smile at the driver, reached back, unzipped her skirt a little, and tried again.

No luck.

More embarrassed now, she reached back, unzipped it a bit further, and attempted the step once more.

Still no luck.

With another polite smile to the driver, she reached behind a third time, unzipped even more, and still couldn’t make it.

A big Texan standing right behind her gently grabbed her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the step.

She spun around, furious.

“How dare you touch me!

I don’t even know you!”

The Texan grinned, tipped his hat, and drawled,

“Well, ma’am… normally I’d agree with ya. But after you unzipped my fly three times, I kinda figured we was friends.”

 

Can You Go Out In Public In Underwear If It Really Is Workout Clothes, Honest!

I have always said that workout gear is something that lets you go out in public in your underwear.

I have two sports I participate in.  Inline Skating and Cycling.  Both as an endurance sport.  When you are in a "Monsoonal Warm" climate like South Florida, the problem isn't staying warm, it is getting rid of sweat.  Especially through August, you can be completely soaked in sweat after only a half hour of cardio outdoors.

I cracked the code of how to get proper workout gear for cycling online a while back.  Going to the shopping website that everyone likes to laugh at, I was getting suited up for under $15, even now while rampant runaway inflation goes on.

Cycle Jerseys can cause ten times that, so since I am not flush with cash, the chance for picking up a full zipper spandex jersey for $8 was one of those moments where I said "Yoink, you are mine".  Padded shorts for the same or less.  I paid $4 for a pair of those more than once.

I used to laugh at the people in the cycle pack in Fairmount Park in Philadelphia wearing stinky spandex.  They would be going past in a large group and you could smell them.  You people really should wash better.  I do.  

But the thing is that something that form fitting looks like underwear, something that you wear under your clothes.  If you are in a place where it is appropriate, like a park or gym, great, but in your neighborhood or at a Mall?  Nope, No way.

My neighborhood is not one of those places.  At least not while I am on the bike.  I prefer more "room to breathe" when I am on skates and there is too much rubbish on the streets here to skate.  I will stick to the trails where the worst thing to have to deal with is an errant Karen.

ON YER LEFT!!!

However I learned shortly after moving to Flaky Florida, that you need to watch the weather very closely.  The emphasis is on the VERY.  In fact if you like today's weather you will like tomorrow.  Changes are rather small.  It never freezes this far south, and temperatures only vary, at most, about a degree a week on average.  

Fahrenheit or Centigrade?  First one, then the other.

You have Dry Season where South Florida is a desert for six or more months, then you have Wet Season where the air is liquid and it can rain at ... well, it is raining now isn't it?

A good radar program or website is better than tuning into the local talking head on AM/FM or TV.  I learned how to read radar as well as the well paid loudmouth on broadcast.  Maybe better because my radar program is immediate. 

There is also Hurricane Season - June 1 to November 30.  Better to just hope it spins fish and watch radar, again.

First thing in the morning, I look and I judge if I am in the barrel of the shooting gallery of "green leopard spots" on the map.  Then dress accordingly.  If the Leopard has brought the rest of its friends and you get yellow/orange/red blobs dancing across the map, you are on for a wet time.

I had a walk where I told those who I was going with that we were going to be wet, very wet.  Getting laughed at I took a golf umbrella that had carbon fiber ribs and no metal.  When I heard "there's the FEC from Miami coming North" from them, I said "No it's not a train, that is weather, we are going to get wet.  RUN!".  

After they stopped laughing at me, I told them to get out from under my umbrella since they were waiting for a train and cramping my style.  "Go play on the tracks, you two dinguses!"

This morning, there was a different situation.  More Leopard Spots.  I had my umbrella and a neighbor was asking.  I said if it rains, we're going to get about a half hour of wet.  The response was "So that is why you are dressed for the Tour de France?"

"Mais Oui, mon ami"  

You see this stuff, that is basically a recycled soda bottle with added stretchy stuff, has its purpose.  Not indoors, you need a breeze to make it comfortable.  The dog doesn't care about how you are dressed, nor whether it is raining.  Only if it is thunder and lightning, very very frightening.

None of that in the thermometer's Mercury, Freddy, just some rain.  Bloody unpredictable rain.

When we are out walking in the neighborhood, a short walk is a half hour.  It is why Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM) has made it to 15 years old after being a Butt Cancer Survivor.  Exercise plus excellent nutrition, even if I have to take a half hour to get him to eat before sunrise.

I got going and was out a little more than a half mile, call it a kilometer, from the house.  It began to rain in that tropical, soaking way.  It was as if someone was on a balcony above you using a spray bottle at first.  Walking on, my Tour de France spandex was now skin tight, had a sheen of slightly salty acid rain that had blown in off the Ocean from The Bahamas.  

On and off, the rain came during that walk, and it stopped about 15 minutes before getting home.  Rack really did not care.  Cow Dogs, Farm Dogs, and Mc Nab Dogs just don't care about rain.  I didn't either.  That cool rain was fine, and when the rain stopped, I had a breeze.  

The Tour turned into an Air Conditioner.  Form Fitting, and I do look good in that stuff.

But basically it's Socially Acceptable Underwear in this context.  Big hairy scary athlete in underwear, walking his dog, being cooled by the winds off the ocean coming in from Freeport.

So I guess, really, I do wear it in the neighborhood, but rarely.  Even if it does raise an eyebrow.  Even if I do think this stuff looks like underwear that can get ripe if it doesn't go into the washer immediately with "bacteria fighting laundry soap".

I mean, I don't want someone to find me by scent.  They aren't a bloodhound and I am not a rabbit.  

After all, my nickname is Moose.  Not Bugs Bunny, silly Wabbit.

I think my best friend must be dyslexic. Last night we threw a Roman-themed party and he turned up wearing a goat.

 Ok, that was BAAAAD.  Wasn't it?


After watching Bohemian Rhapsody last night, this just seems appropriate.


A drummer gets kicked out of a jazz band.

The other members of the band tell him it's because his sense of timing is just the worst. 
He's so depressed that he goes down to the train yard and throws himself behind a train.




And since it is a Sunday Morning...





Road to perdition

A priest comes to a village STEEPED in sexual deviancy and fornication. It makes Sodom and Gomorrah look pure and holy.

When the people come to confess they get graphic with a capital G! So the priest makes a rule. Instead of them relating their sin in such detail, they are to simply say, "Forgive me, Father, I have fallen."

This goes on for a long time.

The people - "Forgive me, Father, I have fallen."

The priest - "Go, child, and sin no more."

20 years go by and the priest dies.

His successor arrives and takes over. He doesn't know the village history or his predecessor's edict. So when the people come to confession ("Forgive me, Father, I have fallen"), the new priest is puzzled.

One day he receives a visit from the mayor. He says to the mayor, "You really need to fix the streets in the village. The people keep falling and they are going to seriously hurt themselves."

The mayor gives him a quizzical look, thinks about it and then all of a sudden bursts out laughing. The priest, annoyed, asks, "Why are you laughing? Your wife fell 100 times last week!"