Ya Gotta Laugh

 

I had to go to the Pensacola, Florida, Social Security office to deliver some paperwork.  Sitting in their waiting room, I saw a sign informing us that cellphones were NOT allowed to be turned on.  Well, darn, how were we to pass the time? A large woman in a uniform was standing behind a podium enforcing the rules.  She reminded me of a schoolmarm holding the reins over a tough after-school detention class.  I felt guilty of some yet to be broken rule.  Bored, I looked around the walls for something else to read. I found a sign behind the check-in kiosk that amused me.  It listed information for people who are blind or sight impaired.  I am neither but the informative details were lost on me, since the framed letter was in small print and inaccessible.  My guess is if you are blind the sign wouldn’t be of much help.  I had to laugh but I giggled inwardly, aware that my face and actions were being closely monitored by the badged, angry-looking monitor standing nearby.

One time I drove around Pensacola looking for Brewer’s Yeast, which is one of the ingredients I use to make Pumpkin dog biscuits.  I finally lucked out at Vitamin World.  A helpful employee immediately showed me the brands of brewer’s yeast available.  At the checkout counter I realized he had a bad cold.  Wait.  He works at a vitamin shop. Shouldn’t all employees be the picture of health?  Don’t they get an employee discount on all products?  This is almost a case of doctor, heal thyself.  I had to laugh.

I received a call from the Social Security office asking to speak to my parents. I said they are in a Memory Care facility since they have Alzheimer’s and dementia.  I have power of attorney and can answer any questions.  She said the Social Security office doesn’t recognize powers of attorney documents.  When do I expect my parents to come back?  Duh.  Like, never?  She hung up.

Which reminds me of a smart ass friend of mine who when asked if his dog bites said, “He has teeth, doesn’t he?”  This is the same guy who called dog poop, “steamers”.  When we worked at the local dog control office, he would yell to the kennel staff, “Steamer in one!”  It sounded like a fast food restaurant.  Gene Brennan, may he rest in peace, was so funny with his dry, New York City humor.

Back in the 70’s another dog trainer friend made a crowd of onlookers laugh at his dog obedience training class.  The dog in the ring was returning across the room to its owner in a manner that would make a turtle look like a flash of lightning, “They’re fun to watch in full flight, aren’t they?”  The dog took its own sweet time returning to its owner who gazed fondly at the canine.  I think the dog enjoyed the attention.  Dog cookies in training weren’t allowed back then which, had they been, may have brought the dog’s speed up to that of a hare.

Then there’s my friend’s lecherous dog show judge, now ex-husband, who bragged about something he said to a well-endowed female exhibitor, “Now run the dog up and back and this time I’ll look at the dog!”

I had a dilemma the other day.  My cheater reading glasses broke.  The teeny tiny little screw fell out on one side.  Even if I could have found the teeny tiny little screw that probably landed in my sleeping black dog’s coat, I’d have needed my cheater glasses to see the equally teeny tiny little hole the screw goes into.  I had to laugh. For lack of another pair of cheater glasses I’ll need to go to Walmart and ask them to fix the glasses for me.

For Christmas I bought myself a stationary exercise bike.  The model I liked displayed a clearance sale tag and was on the sporting good’s floor, obviously put together and in running order.  A few days later the bike was delivered to my door. Since the delivery men didn’t do a test to insure it worked, I asked one of them to turn it on.  “Oh,” he said, “I only delivered what I was asked to deliver, the model off the floor.  It didn’t come with an instruction booklet or electric cord. Don’t blame me.  I’m just the delivery person.  Call the company.”  He was nice but it still steamed me.  That’s like buying a car with no steering wheel!  I now had an expensive clothes rack with pedals.  I called the company and finally talked to a great saleswoman, who made a copy of the instruction booklet, took an electrical cord off the rack and gave me a computerized workout program, free, for my trouble.  Never assume anything, I guess.  Still, I had to shrug my shoulders and laugh after the incident.

All these stories remind me of Bill Engvall’s skit, “Here’s Your Sign” or Ron White’s comedy act, “You Just Can’t Fix Stupid.”

What about you?  Have you had moments where you just laugh and scratch you head and think, “What the heck?”

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