The Blue Rose Bouquet » Humor

Elvis Has Left the Building — and Is Living In My Computer

Pamela Rice Hahn — Mon, 30 Jul 2001 06:02:37 +0000

by Janelle Meraz Hooper

Elvis is still alive. I know it. I have proof. And I don’t mean the kind of proof where some guy who’s had too much beer stops at a local filling station and sees Elvis filling up his Eldorado with regular gas. What a joke. Everyone knows that Elvis uses super.

And I don’t mean like that guy outside of the basketball arena waving a sign that says, “Elvis parks here.” Everyone knows that Elvis is way too cool for basketball.

No, I’m talking about tangible down-to-earth evidence that the King of Rock n’ Roll is alive and well — and living in my computer.

Yep. That’s what I said. Right here in my computer that I call Ole Trigger because he doesn’t have enough guts to boot up all of my fancy equipment on the same day, much less at the same time.

Whenever I want to do anything more complicated than word-processing, I have to load the color printer, print, delete the non-color printer and drivers, and let Ole Trigger rest for a day or so. Then I can load the color scanner, do my scanning, delete the scanner from my hard drive, re-load the non-color printer and its drivers, and let Trigger rest again for a couple of days until it feels up to fetching my emails. Sometimes, if my preacher cousin sends me a long message, Ole Trigger just gets all tuckered out and has to be rebooted. I keep a special pair of cowboy boots next to my PC just for this purpose.

As far as I can tell, Elvis moved into my computer a few days before
the Fourth of July. That’s when I sent a color poster of Elvis to my editor, who’s an Elvis fan, wishing her Happy Fourth! It was a photo that showed Elvis in all his glory: gold metallic suit, slick pompadour hair, and white buck shoes.

Of course he had that special look of his on his face, like he’d just
jammed a guitar pick up his nose and was wondering if he wanted to get it out or just leave it there because it felt good. It was pure, vintage Elvis, and I blew it up full size before I sent it to her via email. I should have known something had gone wrong when she said she never got it. Come to find out: that’s because he never left!

He took up 486 bits or bytes or whatever that stuff is called, but he
was kind of cool, so I didn’t delete him right away like I should have. A
few days later, I began to find strange messages on my computer when I brought up my screen in the morning. Messages like, “Warning! Your memory system is running dangerously low. Norton antivirus system may not be working correctly.” Oh, happy 99! Oh, Melissa!

I went into Trigger’s guts and started deleting everything that wouldn’t make me stop breathing if I didn’t have it. I even deleted-augh!-Elvis,
but the messages kept coming: “Warning, warning! Danger! Danger!”

The next time I used my graphics software, I noticed that Elvis was
still on the menu. I deleted him. He came back. I deleted him again. He came back again. By now, his lips were starting to move, and his suit was beginning to shimmer. I don’t know why he doesn’t leave, except that maybe he’s finally found someplace to hide out where people have to leave him alone — sort of like having Heartbreak Hotel all to himself, maybe.

For myself, I’ve given up and just deleted Norton. I know when I’m
beat. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wake up and hear a lonesome voice in my computer singing, “Ho-oold me close, ho-oold me tight . . . make me thri-illll with dee-lighttt . . . .”

Sure beats anything I ever heard from Norton.

###

Author Bio:

Janelle Meraz Hooper is a writer from Oklahoma with a Hispanic background. Her novel, A Three-Turtle Summer, was published in September 2002. The sequel, As Brown As I want, The Indianhead Diaries, was published in 2003. Her other books include Free Pecan Pie And Other Chick Stories and Custer and His Naked Ladies.

In June 2003, four of her short stories and a poem were published in a Northwest anthology, Dream Makers (compiled by Val Dumond, published by Muddy Puddle Press). She has been a contributing writer for The Northwest Guardian Newspaper, Ft. Lewis, Washington, and other newspapers. In 2002, she was awarded The Bold Media Book Award for A Three-Turtle Summer.

Elvis Has Left the Building — and Is Living In My Computer is a post from: The Blue Rose Bouquet

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Party Games Gone Bad

Pamela Rice Hahn — Sun, 15 Jul 2001 06:02:15 +0000

by J. Kristin Dreyer

Over the years, I’ve learned to fear party games. If I’m at someone’s house with a hundred other people I don’t know (and maybe one who I actually do know), and I see someone pulling out some kind of board game, I feel such a strong physical force coming from the game that I suddenly have to go to the bathroom – really bad – and I stay there for the rest of the evening.

Party games, your host/hostess will tell you, are designed to loosen everyone up and force them to get to know each other. That task should be left to alcohol. What party games are actually designed to do is embarrass everyone but the host/hostess and make everyone go home and regret ever attending that stupid party.

If you ever consider playing a game at a party, first consider the fact that you will most definitely lose. Think about how you’re a sore loser when sober, and then multiply that by the number of drinks you’ve had. Also think about your natural ability to make a fool of yourself, and multiply that by the number of drinks you’ve had. Then consider the number of drinks you’ve had and decide that it’s past time to visit the bathroom. Then stay there.

Party games always favor the host/hostess. After all, he or she owns the game and would never have brought it out at a major social function if it weren’t something that he or she had already mastered. After all, how many times have you gone to the home of the village idiot and watched him suggest that everyone play Trivial Pursuit? It doesn’t happen.

In addition, your host/hostess has already played this game enough times to know all of the answers. And if you even try to win, you’ll be thrown out of the house and never invited back.

The following is a partial list of a number of games that you should never even consider playing at a party:

Twister
This was a great game when you were in junior high and just wanted to get closer to that one kid who sat next to you in history class. Now, however, you’re a grown-up. Your competitors will consist of your boss, that slimy guy from down the street, and miscellaneous fat old people (which, if your honest with yourself, probably includes you).

Besides, you’re getting older. It doesn’t take much to break a hip anymore.

Charades
This game’s purpose is to make you look as stupid as possible while everyone else laughs at you and comes up with humiliating nicknames, which they will call you at the office for the rest of your life. No one will ever really, seriously attempt to guess the correct answer. They’ll guess completely irrelevant stuff to make you more frustrated – and to keep you doing your goofy little dance for as long as time allows.

Pictionary
Even if you’re the greatest artist alive, the presence of a timer will cause your hurried sketches to instantly look like something straight off the wall in a preschool classroom. After you finish drawing, your opponents and your teammates alike will point at the things you scribbled as they snicker and ask, “What was that?” in a very nasty tone of voice. Also remember that the more drinks you consumed before picking up the pencil, the more people will tease you about your attempted sketches.

Pin the Tail on the Donkey
If one of your friends actually wants to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey, it ‘s a sure sign that you need to find new friends. Leave and never come back.

Trivial Pursuit
The questions in this game were created to stump 99% of the population. This includes you. Thus, this game will continue until everyone gets tired and all answers are “close enough” or until next Thursday – whichever comes first.

Anything Involving Money
The more you drink, the more confident you are that you can win lots of money by playing a simple game. And the more you drink, the less likely you are to actually know what you’re doing. Beware of the person who’s been serving you drinks but not drinking. That will be the same person who will ask you to make a “friendly wager” on the next game.

The preceding list is, of course, incomplete. In addition, it also includes, well, pretty much any other party game. The only exceptions to the rule are games such as Outburst, in which so many people are yelling at the same time that no one will notice that you’re not saying anything. And when someone shouts out a correct answer, you can say, “I said that! Didn’t you hear me?”

Just to recap, if someone retrieves a party game out of some closet somewhere, you know what to do, right? That’s right – head for the bathroom. Making up a family emergency is also acceptable. Or tell everyone that you suddenly remembered that poison ivy is extremely contagious and rush out the door.

If you leave before the games begin, I guarantee that you’ll have much fonder memories of the party than anyone who’s forced to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey.

And your dignity will thank you for it.

###

Author Bio:

J. Kristin Dreyer is an advertising drone turned freelance writer and an admitted writing addict (but if there were some kind of 12-step program for writing addicts, there’s no way she’d join). Her articles may be found at a number of former Web sites, including Australian Your Wedding Plan and Society Check.

###

Party Games Gone Bad is a post from: The Blue Rose Bouquet

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Two Rights Make a Wrong?

Pamela Rice Hahn — Mon, 02 Apr 2001 17:09:03 +0000

by TJ Robertson

This is a story of two people, with two different views.

Now different views are something we all profess to not mind, but in reality we resent. Especially if the different view is held by our spouse. Everyone knows this is true, but we rarely will admit to such petty behavior because generally these incidents that tend to be the most irritating, are the ones that are the most ridiculous. Who wants to tell someone about the argument over the toilet paper roll, or the complaint about a spouse’s belief that mowing the grass produces methane emissions in the unacceptable range therefore the lawn cannot be mowed that weekend? You start telling someone about the argument you had with your spouse over these ridiculously silly notions your spouse had, and next thing you know, you end up looking the fool instead of the one deserving to be humiliated. Well, this is a story about two people, two views, and two lessons learned.

My brother Les and his wife Amy were driving to Amarillo down this long straight Texas road. This road is just the type of road people thinking of Texas would imagine. Long, dry, hot with miles and miles of nothing but desert high plains. The only thing imparting a color of life being the occasional mesquite trees and clusters of prickly pear cactus. The only human inhabitants, in transient passing cars seen for 5 miles coming, then passing in a flash before a license plate can be deciphered. Animal life is abundant of the unfriendly type, hidden from the hot glaring sun and rarely seen by the passing motorist except for the occasional rattlesnake or skunk in the road. There, of course, are cattle, too.

But cattle in Texas are not unusual or even noticed for the most part. With so many hundreds of miles of free range, why would the cattle want to be next to a highway? Life is not easy for any animal on the high plains, and especially for the cows. Many acres of range are needed for just one cow with the sparseness of vegetation and water. Basically the cattle are fending for themselves, therefore it is not an unusual occurrence to have a cow consume some loco weed or be attacked by coyotes, or bit by a snake.

So as they drove down this road, my brother saw a dead dog just off the side of the road and he happen to mention this occurrence to Amy. Now there was some tenseness between them from a previous disagreement and therefore what happened following was blown out of proportion. Amy said “What dog? … That was a cow!”

“No! It was a dog,” Les said, as he continued to drive down the road, certain that Amy was just being argumentative and therefore rapidly getting very upset with her.

Amy is likewise perturbed with Les for his refusal to admit it was possibly a cow, for she knew what she’d seen, and it was a big bloated dead cow! “How could anyone miss that?” she thinks to herself.

Well, tempers flared and finally it culminated in Amy insisting that they stop and turn around to prove to Les that she was right. “If you’re wrong,” he said, “you owe me your whole paycheck!!” Amy was determined; he was wrong and he was going to see he was wrong. She knew she was right!

The drive back to the place where the dog/cow had been seemed longer than it was, with anger in the air. Once they finally got to the spot, they got out of the van and sure enough there is this dead dog a few feet away from the white line of the highway. And there … a few feet over, was a huge bloated dead cow on the side of the road. Well, needless to say, they were both right, but both wrong too. Okay, what does someone say in this situation? Exhibiting typical male diplomacy, Les says to Amy, “How could you miss seeing that dog?” Amy looks at her husband, looks back at this huge bloated cow, and then looks back at her husband and asks, “WELL HOW DID YOU MISS THE COW????”

So folks, see there are always two views and depending on your view, you are right. But I’d like to also say you just might be wrong, too, if you saw the whole picture. What are the lessons? Well, first, if you insist on being right, make sure you are right. And second, if you are right, keep your mouth shut, for two rights only make a wrong.

###

Author bio:

TJ Robertson is an award-winning poet who now resides in the state of Washington.

Two Rights Make a Wrong? is a post from: The Blue Rose Bouquet

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“I Bet” and Other Stuff

Pamela Rice Hahn — Sun, 10 Sep 2000 06:42:54 +0000

by Andy Pierson

I bet that Van Gogh guy cut off his ear by
accident and made up that “lost love” story
so he wouldn’t look stupid.

I bet Leonardo da Vinci was naked when he
painted the Mona Lisa ’cause that’s the same
smirk my wife has when she sees me naked.

I bet the Washington Monument would look
a lot different if ol’George had been
circumcised.

I bet if a guy could wag his penis the same way a
dog wags his tail, it would add a whole new
meaning to “I’m so happy to see you.”

I bet the exclamation mark was derived
from the shape of the excrement cavemen
left on the trail when something scared ‘em
real bad!

I wish that the leaves would fly south every
fall and the birds would die and fall to the
ground. That way I could get my cat to do
all the raking.

Snakes are God’s way of saying:
Hey, look! A snake!

I taught my parrot to say “Put the money in the
bag and no one gets hurt!” That way if I’m ever
collared, they can only try me as an accomplice.

Really good magicians leave church with a little
more money than they came in with.

I bet if I stick a FORK in someone’s eye, I
won’t have to eat at the kids’ table again next
year.

I bet there are little men in the walls that are in
charge of the electrical outlets. I see one is on a
smoke break right now.

I bet the reason that parents don’t name their
daughters “Mom” is because they’re afraid no
one would ask ‘em to the prom.

I bet stray cracks in the sidewalk are caused
by people stepping on their mother’s back.

We will never become a truly paper-less society
until the Palm Pilot folks come out with
“WipeMe 1.0.”

I have a lot in common with Mark Twain. I too
sit on the porch and smoke cigars. However, I
bet he didn’t think to jot down his ideas on the
heels of his sneakers.

I think I’ve got this figured out: If the woman
has a rose in her teeth, it’s a tango.

I bet fewer airplanes would crash into
buildings if we put signs on ‘em that said
“Actual Size.”

I am, I said. To no one there. And no one
turned at all, not even the chair. Which was
quite surprising, because the chair usually has
some wise-assed comeback for every little
thing I say.

I had to come up with a little trick because my
dog doesn’t like going to the Vet. I just say:
“Hey Bounder! The Vet just called, I think he
wants to give your testicles back.”

I bet Mr. T wouldn’t be such a tough guy, if he
were known as Mr. Tea.

Author’s 2000 Bio:

Andy Pierson started out as a “Real Live Cowboy” from New Mexico. After four years in the U.S. Navy he moved to Maryland, and in 1981 became a Systems Analyst (“because the retirement plan was better than that cowboy gig”). He is currently touring southern Maryland as a “World Renowned Pub and Bar Magician.” Andy kept his day job because he is “a prisoner of that great retirement plan”. You can read more of Andy’s writing on his Web site or contact him by e-mail.

“I Bet” and Other Stuff is a post from: The Blue Rose Bouquet

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Top 5 Things NOT to Say to a Cop

Pamela Rice Hahn — Sat, 19 Dec 1998 04:01:23 +0000

by Pamela Rice Hahn

5. Couldn’t pass the postal exam, eh?

4. Will you puh-lease get that light out of my eyes???

3. That isn’t how you spell wreckless.

2. Excuse me! Did I ask for your opinion?

1. Here look! My gun’s bigger than yours!

Copyright (c) 1998-2008 Pamela K. Hahn (Pamela Rice Hahn)
Permission granted to forward this via email as long as
this entire copyright notice is attached.
The Chris White Top 5 List is Copyright (c) 1998 Chris White
and can be seen at http://www.topfive.com
This List is reprinted from the HUMOR section in the
The Blue Rose Bouquet at http://www.bluerosebouquet.com/
Reprinting this list for commercial purposes is forbidden
without the expressed written consent of the author.

Top 5 Things NOT to Say to a Cop is a post from: The Blue Rose Bouquet

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Top 5 French Phrases

Pamela Rice Hahn — Fri, 18 Dec 1998 04:23:42 +0000

by Pamela Rice Hahn

5. l’espirit de whore … a satisfied Charlie Sheen

4. coma tally view … the number of visitors to the patient in intensive care

3. moi cherie’s no more … the Arkansas pre-teen theme song

2. slurp du jour … an intern’s day at the office

1. a’la rode … an intern’s exceptional day at the office

Copyright (c) 1998-2007 Pamela K. Hahn (Pamela Rice Hahn)
Permission granted to forward this via email as long as
this entire copyright notice is attached.
The Chris White Top 5 List is Copyright (c) 1998 Chris White
and can be seen at http://www.topfive.com
This List is reprinted from the HUMOR section in the
The Blue Rose Bouquet at http://www.bluerosebouquet.com/
Reprinting this list for commercial purposes is forbidden
without the expressed written consent of the author.

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Top 5 Alternative Gods of Mythology

Pamela Rice Hahn — Thu, 17 Dec 1998 04:34:40 +0000

by Pamela Rice Hahn

5. Jeus: the god of Florida fruit drinks

4. Pundora: goddess for those lacking the intelligence to come up with them

3. dildo: goddess of the loveless, mistress of the “no luck at the hunt”

2. batteri: dildo’s support group

1. HeHeHeHercules: god of laughter

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Monica Lewinsky Film Titles

Pamela Rice Hahn — Wed, 16 Dec 1998 04:01:35 +0000

by Pamela Rice Hahn

This list was sent in as my first audition. I exceeded the 5 entries by a bit. Ended up it was already an actual topic in progress and one of mine was chosen the #1 Monica Lewinsky Film Title for the Chris White Top 5 List on February 3rd, 1998.

Bang the Bum Slowly

The Big Creep

ApplyHerLips Now

The Catch Her in the Fly

Pump Friction

Swamped Thing

The JawShank ZeDampChin

Face Jam

The Schlong Kiss Delight

The Wizard of Ooze

Happy Spillsmore

His Thing and I

Pet Shorty …or… Wet Shorty
(Paula Jones said in deposition he’s less than 5″ long, fully extended)

Chinny Chinny Bang Bang

and the #1 Monica Lewinsky Film Title on the Chris White Top 5 List on February 3rd, 1998 was/is:

Cleavage and Butt-Head Do America

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What is a Humor Writer?

Pamela Rice Hahn — Mon, 14 Dec 1998 04:01:35 +0000

by Pamela Rice Hahn

I believe a humor writer is someone who looks at the world a bit differently than most of those around him. It’s not that he wears rose-colored glasses; however, he does have a mental astigmatism that makes him look at the familiar in a different manner. He notices things, and often comments on them in such a way that whichever acquaintance happens to be walking beside him at that moment, oftentimes pretends he’s “never met that guy before in my life.” His friends sometimes fail to hear the subtle distinctions, but he knows there’s a talent to innuendo and out the other. Eventually, as with all socially-unacceptable diseases, the infection spreads. Drop an “aside” and maybe one person will hear it, but write it down and maybe the whole world will read it! The class clown grows up and buys a computer and the printed word is never the same again.

NOTE: In writing, I don’t think we need to bother ourselves with those niggling little details of PC conventions, such as his or her, s/he, and other minutiae. For, in writing, it’s my opinion that “he” is a neutered term, although some of my male acquaintances, for some reason, seem to squirm less when I say “neutral term” instead.

–

We needed some more humor in this issue (since I haven’t yet organized another “The Best of
s(Pam”), so I decided to go this route. I’ve been a failed finalist twice so far on Chris White’s Top 5 List (although he did use my Monica Lewinsky film title as #1 on his list in February!). Here are some examples from my “auditions,” that got me where I am today … posting them here instead of writing for that list. Follow the links to:

Top 5 Things NOT to Say to a Cop

WARNING: The LINKs below include some adult humor.

Top 5 Ways to Tell You Have Gained Weight

Monica Lewinsky Film Titles

Top 5 Alternative Gods of Mythology

Top 5 French Phrases

Author bio:

“Pamela Rice Hahn aka Fawnn is a writer from Ohio and Publisher/Editor in Chief of The Blue Rose Bouquet. She did the illustration for Luanne Oleas’ story The Pirate and The Butterfly. Pam is Channel Manager for #Authors — voted one of the Top 10 Chat Channels on the Undernet. You can learn more about her by visiting her professional Web site.”

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The Name Game

Pamela Rice Hahn — Sun, 13 Dec 1998 04:04:14 +0000

by Luanne F. Oleas

When the 1960s ended, San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district reverted to high rent, and many hippies moved down the coast to Santa Cruz. They had children and got married, too, though in no particular sequence. But they didn’t name their children Melissa or Brett. People in the mountains around Santa Cruz grew accustomed to their children playing Frisbee with little Time Warp or Spring Fever.

And eventually Moonbeam, Earth, Love, and Precious Promise all ended up in public school.

That’s when the kindergarten teachers first met Fruit Stand. Every fall, according to tradition, parents bravely apply name tags to their children, kiss them good-bye, and send them off to school on the bus.

So it was for Fruit Stand. The teachers thought the boy’s name was odd, but they tried to make the best of it.

“Would you like to play with the blocks, Fruit Stand?” they offered.

And later, “Fruit Stand, how about a snack?”

He accepted hesitantly.

By the end of the day, his name didn’t seem much odder than Heather’s or Sun Ray’s. At dismissal time, the teachers led the children out to the buses.

“Fruit Stand, do you know which one is your bus?”

He didn’t answer. That wasn’t strange. He hadn’t answered them all day. Lots of children are shy on the first day of school. It didn’t matter. The teachers had instructed the parents to write the names of their children’s bus stops on the reverse side of their name tags.

The teacher simply turned over the tag.

There, neatly printed, was the word “Anthony.”

Author bio:

“Luanne F. Oleas aka LadyLu is the author of Wild Dancing and other novels. In addition, she is an op on the #Authors Undernet chat channel (one of the Top 10 channels on the Undernet). The California writer’s work has appeared in Reader’s Digest and other publications. You can read her short story The Pirate and the Butterfly in the The Blue Rose Bouquet.”

The Name Game is a post from: The Blue Rose Bouquet

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