Jokes for Finding Love this Valentine's Day

This year on the blog, my mostly joking commentary on topics like creating the perfect holiday letter has been replaced by posts about the danger of Donald Trump, the role of American Christians, and the heartbreak of ignoring refugees. 

If you've stuck with me through this somewhat abrupt change in tone, thank you! I believe that I have only one voice, and if ever there was a year to use it, it's been this one. I especially appreciate readers who disagree with me who have continued to read and respond.

But today, Imma throw back to my blogging days of yore and talk to you about both JOKES and REAL LIFE in the SAME POST.

At the beginning of 2016, I published an article called Tips for Finding Love in the New Year. Here's an excerpt:

3) How to Handle the First Date

Using the above strategies, you’ll soon have plenty of dates on your calendar. How can you “wow” your date? I’m glad you asked.

The most important quality you can bring to a date is a sense of humor. Humor is even more attractive than actual attractiveness, which is why you frequently see top comedians paired up with supermodels, while your professional athletes and Hollywood stars — lacking that all-important sense of humor — are constantly having to take their moms to their various award shows because they can’t find anyone else to go with them.

To help you out, I’m going to share some jokes I have used on actual dates:

“What did the zero say to the eight?” “Nice belt.”

“What do you call a fish with no eyes?” “Fshhh.”

“What was the last thing that went through the bug’s head when it hit the windshield?” “Its butt.”

Now, you probably thought that advice was in jest. Heck, I thought that advice was in jest. But it turns out that my tips for finding love in the new year ACTUALLY WORK.

Not long after publishing that article, I got asked out to coffee by a man at my church. He'd been thinking about calling me for a while, but what helped tip him over the edge was reading my article and finding, yes, his favorite joke.

"What do you call a fish with no eyes?"
"Fshhh."

And we've been together ever since.

 + 

=

I still find it ironic that an article laughing about how NOT to impress someone helped bring me into a relationship with the one I love. The Lord works in mysterious ways.

So, apparently jokes are more powerful than I realized, and jokes about jokes are a foolproof path to true love. Single friends, I'm here for you. If dumb jokes work, I'm about to arm you with some jokes even dumber than the ones I shared last year. Here we go:

What do you call a cow with only two legs?
Lean beef.

What do you call a cow with no legs?
Ground beef.

What do you call a cow with an explosive device inside of it?
Abominable.

What do you call the cow after the device has exploded.
Noble.

Learn these jokes, single friends! Tell 'em at work, tell 'em at church, tattoo them on your arms, or include them in a satirical blog post about your dating ineptitude. Do what you need to do.

Have a great Valentine's Day, and I look forward to your weddings.

"Go... Sit... Stare" - A Singles' Guide to Weddings

Bachelors and bachelorettes, it's been far too long since I've given you any advice.

Sure, I got you through the holidays with my Singles' Holiday Guide and my instructions on writing the perfect solo Christmas letter.

And yep, I helped you through the New Year with my Tips for Finding Love in 2016.

But now the holidays are over and it's spring, that magical season when a young person's fancy turns to love! ...Not yours, of course. For one thing, you are not that young. Also, you are not in love. No, your fancy is currently occupied with other pressing matters, such as registries and RSVPs, because it's almost Wedding Season!

How are you going to conquer Wedding Season alone? This is far too big a question for me to answer without help, so I turned to my Facebook friends for their advice. In addition to some actual, proper advice (such as "Remember that it's not about you"), here are some of the quotes I gathered:

• "Don't go."
• "If you must go, it helps make you feel better if others know you're miserable. So, I think it's good to cry, make self-deprecating comments, and say things to the married/dating people like "you are so lucky to have each other". '
• "Look hot."
• "Make sure to dance with people that are either one third your age OR three times your age!"
• "Give awkward hugs."
• "Perfect a dance that you can teach to others."
• "Bring a cat."

One guy said, "I just kind of go... sit... stare." He pointed out that this method has two advantages: It's really uncomfortable for him, and it's really uncomfortable for everyone else.

As tempting as that sounds, you may want some more specific advice, so here you go:

1) DO Drink.

The best thing a single person can do at a wedding is drink. No, not alcohol. (That's actually the worst thing. A little-known fact!)

You are going to drink a LOT, because you will be requiring a LOT of bathroom breaks. I recommend a minimum of five glasses of water, plus a few Shirley Temples to help you fit in at the kids' table, where you will probably be seated.

Once your bladder is sloshing with several gallons of non-alcoholic beverages, you will be ready to run frantically to the restroom anytime an unpleasant singleness moment arises. For example, you can escape:

• The minute you hear the words "bouquet" and "toss" in the same sentence
• Any time the DJ plays a song that's 100 beats per minute or less
• When you're stuck between two strangers who are conversing over you as if you are not polishing off a salad in the two-foot space between them. 

The next tip is specific to the gentlemen.

2) DON'T be like this guy:

One time, I was sitting with some friends at a reception and an unattached groomsman came ambling over and invited one of us (any of us!) to dance. I volunteered.

As we arrived on the dance floor, he said, "I don't really know how to dance, so you'll have to lead."

No can do, Mr. Awkward Sweaty Groomsman Guy. NO CAN DO.

If your plan is to make the girl lead, I suggest that you first find out whether or not she went to a conservative Baptist high school that did not allow dancing, thus forever cementing her dance skills at the level of "Bunny Hop," and if indeed she did go to said high school, back slowly away.

Anyway, my Facebook friends were all in agreement on the following points:

3) DO eat cake.

4) But DON'T cry about it. Apparently, the acceptable times to cry at a wedding are as follows:

• The ceremony
• The speeches

Every other situation is off-limits for tears, including:

• Eating cake
• Eating your second piece of cake
• Eating your third piece of cake

If you find yourself crying at a non-approved time, you must either put on your sunglasses or run to the restroom (see Point #1). No crying at the singles' table!

5) DO make jokes. If you can't cry, you might as well laugh.

One friend suggested that if you get a second piece of cake, you should claim that it's for your date, who "couldn't make it."

I think she's onto something. It's true that your date couldn't make it... TO YOUR LIFE.

Heh heh. Witty remarks like these are going to be essential for following the last piece of advice for attending weddings alone:

6) DO make friends. I'm not talking about making friends at the wedding. I'm talking about making friends before the wedding. Twenty years before, if possible.

Because the best way to enjoy a wedding solo is to be in the wedding. Think about it:

• You will walk into the ceremony on the arm of a well-dressed person of the opposite gender
• It's actually more convenient NOT to have your own date
• You will have assigned seating at the best table in the venue
• You will have many duties to keep you busy, thus giving you something to do other than visit the restroom
• You will acquire many lovely professional photos of yourself in formalwear. Perfect for your online dating profile!

So dust off your jokes, my fellow singles, and get out there and make some friends. It's Wedding Season, and we got this. See you at the head table!

[In the Style of Dave Barry] Night at the Caucuses

Hey Mr. Barry, I've been a fan of your writing since way back in 2000, when you published the following memory trick for spelling the word "millennium":

Two 'n's and two 'l's, you've spelled it quite well. One 'l' or one "n", you're a big fat stupid hen.

I use that trick to this day, and I'm proud to report that no one in the last sixteen years has ever had reason to call me a big fat stupid hen.

So you've helped me a lot, Mr. Barry, and I was thrilled to see that you were coming to my town last week to cover the Iowa caucuses.

"Finally!" I said to myself. "Here's a hard-hitting, truth-telling reporter who won't stoop to the same old tired jokes about pigs and corn."

Then I read your column, "It's the Iowa Pork Congress!" (Key quote: "Even as I type these words the Iowa Pork Congress is going on here at the Iowa Events Center, with a 'Manure Applicator Training Session' scheduled Thursday.")  You seem to think there's something funny about an event that features a "Swinecast."

Not only do you "poke fun" at our agricultural events, in another column you make frequent references to how well-mannered Iowans are, suggesting in your "tongue-in-cheek" way that we wouldn't last a minute in South Florida. (Key quote: "They are incredibly polite, these Iowans. If they ever come to Miami they will wind up naked in the gutter.")

Enough is enough, Mr. Barry. We Iowans are made of more than just corn, pigs, and politeness. For example, did you forget that we are also a leading producer of soy beans?

True story: My co-worker Kelsee, who grew up in small-town Iowa, surrounded by bean fields, did not realize until she was an adult that those fields contained soy beans. She had spent her whole life wondering who was buying all those green beans.

As this true story illustrates, we are not all farmers. In fact, I am an Iowa native whose primary agricultural achievement is telling people that my mom grew up on a dairy farm.

But putting agriculture aside, what really irked me about your coverage of caucus week, Mr. Barry, is your insistence that we Iowans are all nice.

Oh yeah? You think we're nice?? Well guess what -- I think your haircut may be slightly unflattering, although it's probably just the lighting. Sorry, it's probably just how I was looking at the photo. My fault.

Anyway, to prove that we Iowans have just as much "edge" as anyone else, and could beat any one of you in a street fight in the inner city (if only we had inner cities) (which would require having cities), I'm going to tell you about a night that Iowans weren't so nice.

That's right -- Caucus Night.

I arrived with my two friends to a local elementary school, where at least fifty people were lined up outside the door. The caucus was set to begin in twenty minutes, and it was becoming clear that the line was not moving nearly fast enough to get everyone settled by 7:00 p.m.

After a few minutes, a volunteer poked her head out to the door to announce that the line for the Democrat caucus was actually inside the building, and dozens of people streamed out of the line and into the warm indoors.

A few Republicans grumbled.

Unfortunately, the caucus organizers had vastly underestimated the projected attendance, and they had run out of all the necessary forms, including registration forms and the little ballots that would be used to cast our votes. Someone was supposed to get photocopies, but it sure wasn't happening quickly.

Once we finally got everyone into the gym, we expressed our strong disapproval of slow line and the late start by stating they really should have planned ahead better, after which we continued our silent protest by making small talk with our neighbors and catching up with friends from church.

The organizers had set up chairs for only about a quarter of the attendees, forcing most of us to stand.

As you can see, we were fuming.

The climax of our Not-so-Niceness came shortly after, once the caucus had finally begun.

Several well-spoken representatives stood up to speak in support of their candidates. We showed our disapproval of the candidates we didn't like by smiling and clapping with one percent less enthusiasm than we gave for the candidates we liked.

When it became clear that no one had come prepared to speak on behalf of Donald Trump, a very nice suburban-type woman in a Trump T-shirt stood up and said that she hadn't planned to talk but she wanted to make sure someone spoke for Trump, because he was against politics as usual and he was doing all of this for us -- to help our families and to Make America Great Again. Listening to her talk, you would have thought Trump was a proper presidential candidate instead of a condescending egomaniac bent on self-aggrandizement at anyone's expense.

Woah, sorry. That wasn't very nice.

Anyway, several small children had been playing in the back of the gym throughout the evening. With the terrible acoustics of the gym, the adults were having difficulty hearing the speakers. It didn't help that three of the kids had noisemakers. ("What'll we have the kids do at the caucus to keep 'em busy?" I imagined their parents asking themselves. "I know! How about make noise? Bob, hand 'em the drumsticks.")

Finally, we could stand it no longer. A middle-aged woman in a Rand Paul shirt stood up halfway out of her chair and called over her shoulder, "Someone leash the kids!"

And there you have it: A true Iowa Rage.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. We took the vote (Rubio won; Trump trailed him by a vote), said goodbye to our neighbors, and all went home.

I hope you'll come back to Iowa one day, Mr. Barry, so we can show you what we're really made of.

But don't forget -- you'll have to pass the Manners Test before you come.

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/news/politics-government/elections-2016/article57500448.html#storylink=cpy

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/news/politics-government/elections-2016/article56902063.html#storylink=cpy

Your Annual Holiday Letter: A Tutorial for Singles

First of all, thank you for making my Singles' Holiday Guide one of my most-read posts.  It is indeed a comfort that our collective holiday happiness is such an important topic for you, perhaps even more important than all of the Issues On Which I Have Opinions or my collection of Truly Mediocre Poetry.

It has come to my attention that I neglected to give any advice on a very important topic: The Annual Holiday Letter.  A brief review of my own files shows that I started sending out Christmas cards in 2008 and continued until... let's see... 2008.  Based on this experience, I've put together the following tutorial for singles to craft the perfect Christmas letter.

The Annual Holiday Letter includes three essential components:

1.  Photos
2.  Dependents
3.  Accomplishments and Adventures

Let's start with photos.  Holiday letters need to have a certain joie de vivre (French for "joy of vivre"), so your photos should connote happiness and enthusiasm.

WRONG:

RIGHT:

See how much happier that looks?  Another benefit of choice #2 is that it effectively communicates both "single" and "ready to mingle."  Here are some other outfits I considered for my Christmas card photo:

It's bold. I love it. (But not as much as I love myself.)

Indeed, this is not subtle.

A cat muumuu.  The proper attire for all single ladies of a certain age.

Speaking of cats, let's move on to the next part of your letter: dependents.   You may have noticed that most holiday letters focus as little as possible on the writer.  They say things like,  "This year was an exciting year for the Ribalski family!  In January I won the Nobel Prize for Literature, but enough about me.  Quentin continues to be the line leader every other Thursday at his preschool and has only led the line down the wrong hallway twice!"  This should, of course, be followed by a photo of Quentin in his line leader hat.

So you're going to need a child, or at least a pet, to feature in your Christmas letter.  I am going to use as my featured dependent a stuffed cat that was given to me a couple years ago by a friend who knew how much I like cats (and how much my housemates don't).

I've never named this little guy, but for the purpose of this letter, let's call him "Geoff." Geoff isn't a line leader, but he's done a pretty good job holding down those books for the last year and a half.

Once you have both a photo and a dependent to feature, it's time to get to the "meat" of your letter.  Here you will describe the accomplishments and adventures of the last year.  Remember to make them upbeat!

WRONG:  "I tried baking an apple pie last week, but the inside didn't turn out.  So I made another one, but then the outside didn't turn out."

RIGHT:  "This year I baked infinitely more apple pies than last year, each one just as good as the last."

Perhaps you are one of those intrepid singles who has bought a house (bless you).  You can describe your many accomplishments as a solo homeowner, such as the time you installed a dimmer switch by yourself, or that time you mowed the lawn.  My own major accomplishment of 2015 was taking my lunch to work instead of buying it every day.

As a single person, you may find the "dependents" and "accomplishments" section of your letter a bit difficult, but never fear.  You have something married parents of young children can only dream of: You have adventures.  Talk about your travels!  If you haven't had any, make some up; your friends will never know.

Here I'll include some helpful travel photo templates for your letter.  Just insert a picture of your face, and the "adventures and accomplishments" section of your letter will be complete.

"My Trip To New York"

"Hosting Saturday Night Live"

"Jamming with friends in the UK"

As you can see, once you know the three essential components to the perfect Annual Holiday Letter, it basically writes itself.  Hope you had a wonderful 2015, and I can't wait to hear about it!

Singles' Holiday Guide

If there's one thing I'm always hearing, it's how helpful I am.
"Alison, you're the helpful-est person, I know," people say. "We don't know what we'd do without you."
"Thanks," I say. "I don't know what you'd do either."

In the spirit of helping all my single friends survive the upcoming holidays, I've put together the following Guide to Surviving and Thriving as a Single this Season.


The Company Christmas Party

The two most important things you must decide about the company Christmas party are what to wear and whom to take.  For your attire, I recommend wearing something subdued so that your choice of a date will really pop.  You can bring any of the following people to the party:

1)  An actual date.  Hahaha.  I kid, I kid.  If you knew any actual eligible dates, you'd be out with them right now instead of reading this guide.  But that's OK, because there are many other options.

2)  A friend of the opposite sex.  The beauty of this choice is that no one will know if this is a friend-date or a date-date, leading to awkward conversations throughout the night.  Your CEO might just plop down beside you and ask, "Who's this lucky gentleman (or lady)?"  An additional possible bonus is that your date (or you!) will be likewise confused and will spend the next year planning a wedding that will never happen.

3)  A friend of the same sex.  This choice combines the enjoyment of spending the evening with a friend with the excitement of making all of your co-workers question your sexual orientation.

4)  A relative.  It's cool to bring your cousin to the company party, right?  .... right??

5)  No one.  Going solo solves so many problems: The problem of there not being enough empty chairs at the table, the problem of writing "2" on your RSVP card when "1" is so much easier...  Actually, those are the only two problems it solves, but if those are your priorities, you should definitely go with option #5.


The Family Dinner

As most grandmothers have long known, there's no better place to discuss your singleness than over the holiday dinner table.  Sometimes it can be difficult to come up with the perfect response to your family's questions on the spot.  Here are some suggestions:

Q:  "When will you get married?"
A:  "When will the apple pie be done?"  (Evasion plus confusion.  Perfect.)

Q:  "Are you seeing anyone?"
A:  "No."  (Drop your fork on the floor and duck under the table to get it.  Do not emerge.)

Q:  "Why are you still single?"
A:  "I'm ugly."  (My personal favorite.)

It will also be important to smile and nod appropriately when your great aunt describes how her niece on the other side found her husband.  "She met him on the Christian Mingles!  Or was it the Farmers Only?  Have you ever thought of trying one of those dating sites?"


Accommodations

After your holiday dinner and an evening full of family fun, it will be time to "hit the hay," as they say.  Fortunately, as the only family member without a spouse or a child, and thus the only family member who does not strictly require a bed, you may actually have the opportunity to sleep on some hay!  But if an original Bethlehem-stable kind of Christmas is not for you, your two prime sleeping spots are as follows:

1)  The living room couch.  Pros: It's the highest-quality couch in the house, it may afford a view of the Christmas tree, and you will definitely be the only one to see Santa.  Cons:  Santa might not come if you are spying on him from the living room.

2)  The basement couch.  Pros:  You'll feel like a teenager again!  You'll have your own bedroom in the basement -- cool!  Maybe you can save up your lawn-mowing money for a mini fridge!  Cons:  Your family might forget about you and leave you behind while they take a trip to France, forcing you to fend off potential home invaders by yourself.

Actually, that might make for a pretty cool story, so I recommend option #2.

With parties, dinners, and accommodations taken care of, you're all set for a happy holiday as a surviving, thriving single.  Enjoy!


Disclaimer:  This blog shall in no way be responsible for the consequences of following the advice set forth in this column.  This blog recognizes that singleness humor is best directed at singles and henceforth demands that all non-single readers forget they ever read this column.  This blog would also like to remind this blog's mom that this blog does actually like sleeping on the couch. 

Zaphod Beeblebrox for President?

Today, to fill your insatiable desire to know what I think about the presidential candidates, I'm going to feature some quotes and descriptions of the man I believe to be the most memorable president of all time: Zaphod Beeblebrox.

Zaphod Beeblebrox is the egotistical golden boy who, in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, somehow ends up as the President of the Universe, in addition to running a very successful secondhand ballpoint pen business.

As you read these quotes, please keep in mind that any resemblance between Zaphod, a fictional two-headed egomaniac, and Donald Trump, a well-known one-headed businessman hoping to lead our great nation, is purely coincidental.  

It was for the sake of this day that he had first decided to run for the Presidency, a decision which had sent waves of astonishment throughout the Imperial Galaxy — Zaphod Beeblebrox? President? Not the Zaphod Beeblebrox? Not the President? Many had seen it as a clinching proof that the whole of known creation had finally gone bananas.

Trillian: "Can we drop your ego for a moment? This is important.''
Zaphod: "If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and shot now.''

He had rather liked Zaphod Beeblebrox in a strange sort of way. He was clearly a man of many qualities, even if they were mostly bad ones. 

One of the major difficulties Trillian experienced with Zaphod was distinguishing between him pretending to be stupid, just to get people off their guard, pretending to be stupid because he couldn't be bothered to think and wanted someone else to do it for him, pretending to be outrageously stupid to hide the fact he actually didn't understand what was going on, and really being genuinely stupid.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy describes Zaphod as follows (quotes collected from this site):

• "Adventurer, ex-hippy, good timer (crook? quite possibly), manic self-publicist, terribly bad at personal relationships, often thought to be completely out to lunch"
• "Clever, imaginative, irresponsible, untrustworthy, extrovert, nothing you couldn't have guessed"
• "The worst-dressed sentient being in the known universe."

Once again, remember that this is a post about Zaphod Beeblebrox, NOT DONALD TRUMP.  And do read the book if you ever have time -- it's a quick and clever read!

[In the Style of a Pirate] Good News

Ahoy!  This here be International Talk Like a Pirate Day.  Ye lads and lasses know I take a likin to all things International.  And on this great, grand holiday I be thinkin how I could reach me fellow pirates with the good news from the good Booke.  Aye, the Booke you be findin in yarr churches.

"Matey," I'd say.  "Did ye ever do a thing that warn't right?  Aye, I know ye did.  We be scallawags from the bow to the stern, from the hold to the jib.  There be that time we came across Tall Bob Diamond's ship and stormed it, loaded to the gunwales with grog, but fightin like we meant it all the same.  And we sent those lily livered land lubbers marchin off the end o' the plank.

"Then there was the wench we met ashore.  I stole her purse for a piece of eight and paid no mind to the little lassie cryin at her side.  You were there!

"But then I read in yon good Booke that all of us be scallawags, not one of us worth the gold doubloons we pillaged from Scarface Sal.  It be thar in Romans 3:23.

"And then I be readin in Romans 6:23 that every scallawag goes straight down to Davy Jones' Locker.  Matey, I read that and my timbers shivered like they had never shivered before, for I was the scurviest scallawag on ship and bound for the cat o'nine tails or worse.

"Then a tale of one Captain Saul of Tarsus reached me ears -- the bloodiest pirate on the high seas suddenly turned clean and set to writin letters about the Good Lord.  And right thar in Romans 6:23 I read about Dread Jesus of Nazarreth, the hearty who walked the plank in his place.

"Avast!  Did ye hear that, matey?  Dread Jesus walked the plank straight down to Davy Jones' Locker and Captain Saul walked free.

"And he did it for me.

"And He'll do it for you.

"Drop to your knees, you landlubber, and by the blood of the Nazarrene you'll be walkin free.

"Arrr!"


And that's how I'd share the gospel with a pirate. :)

[In the Style of Bridget Jones] Single on a Sunday

I typed out this diary entry in the style of Bridget Jones after reading a Bridget Jones's Diary book last summer.  She is one funny fictional Brit.  The actual events I described below were mostly all true. But the thoughts and conclusions were mostly all not -- They are much more Bridget-ish than Alison-ish. Enjoy!


Current weight: Not reported. Number of cigs smoked: 0 (as per usual). Number of bathrooms cleaned: 2 (v. good). Number of floors swept: At least a million (v. v. good). Batches of cookies mixed: 5. Batches of cookies baked: 0. Number of boyfriends: 0 (as per usual).

Alarm set for 4:05 this morning to drive roommate and church staffers to airport for conference in California. Roommate says we are leaving at crack of dawn. I point out it’s another three hours before dawn cracks.

5:30 a.m. Got back from airport and went to sleep for next four hours (unlike me to sleep so late, but v. tired lately). Dreamt was in California with church staffers attending a backyard Mexican barbecue. All were very impressed when I saw them and announced with perfect Spanish accent, “Es mi grupo.” Spent most of dream looking on Google maps to find nearest beach. Awoke to beautiful day in Iowa.

10:00 a.m. Normally would not spend all of Sunday morning un-showered in my pajamas reading “Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason.” Found it on bookshelf last night and laughed out loud through first two chapters, so really do have to finish book to see how it ends. Will be up and showered by 11. Now I’ll just warm up some leftovers and get on to Chapter Three…

Gah! 12:30 already! At least book is finished (v. humorous, if a little crass), so now can be extra productive through rest of day. Also have plans to talk with gentleman from online dating site this afternoon. But first, will go for run and then start big cookie baking project.

1:30 p.m.: Finished running! Finished showering! Even shaved my legs! Hoorah! Am a responsible, productive adult and will continue doing important chores and creative ventures throughout day.

2:30 p.m.: Let’s see… Got these cookies all mixed up so they just need to pop in the fridge for a cool-down before baking. Roommate walks in and I tell her I’m baking cookies for the church marriage conference next week (v. selfless of me).

Selflessness continues with extra-thorough cleaning of house, including two bathrooms, several floors, and own room. Still counts as selfless even though I live here, right? Resolve to continue cleaning bathrooms weekly so they do not become scary, hair-filled, moldy disasters as in last house rented.

3:30 p.m.: Will bake cookies after gentleman from the Internet gives me a call. For now will just walk down to coffee shop for some free wi-fi. Beautiful walk. Best neighborhood ever!

Hm. Nothing interesting on the Internet. E-mail may not be working, as no new messages are in inbox. Phone also possibly not working, as has not rung all day. Look at phone: Appears to be in working order. Will go home and re-learn how to crochet while waiting for gentleman caller.

6:00 p.m.: Yes, this is absolutely best day ever. Sitting in my clean room with vanilla candle burning, relaxing on perfectly made bed making a lovely scarf. Do not actually remember how to crochet exactly, but confident it will turn out all right in the end (yarn is quite bulky so v. forgiving of mistakes). Let’s see, eight rows in… better hold it up and take a peek…

Gah! Scarf is not supposed to look like pregnant “S.” Should be straight and neat. Pull out four rows and leave on bed so can scrounge for some supper.

7:30 p.m. Phone rings! Is not technically “afternoon” anymore, but can forgive Internet gentleman for that. Oh, but: “Hi Alison! It’s Mom! Just calling to say hi. So anyway, what did you do today?” Talked to Mom for thirty minutes. Had planned to call her myself (resolve to be more attentive daughter) but wanted line free in case needed for online dating purposes.

Will randomly text half a dozen friends to stave off boredom.

8:00 p.m. Read several pages of First Kings. Continue to be confused by incident with Elisha and bears. Nonetheless, reading Bible and praying always v. good idea. Should probably have done before finishing Bridget Jones.

Friend calls. Discuss her online dating experiences in detail. Nothing to report on this end.

Hmm.. 8:45. Will just text Internet gentleman to let him know I’m still free.

8:50 p.m. No response.

Will complete urgent project of going through digital photos from last three months.

9:10 p.m. Still no response. Will just pop off to McDonald’s for some free wi-fi. (Side note – really would be more convenient to have Internet in house.) Should get salad as have not had anything un-cheesed or un-fried all day.

Oh, though. They have chocolate twist cones! Should get one as they are only $1 and will be nice cheap way to justify sitting in booth for an hour mooching wi-fi. Log into my online dating. Interesting dorky minister dude sent questions; will reply.

9:55 p.m. Phone still silent. Composed humorous haiku regarding sitting under freezing air conditioning while eating twist cone and posted on Facebook. Facebook did not appreciate, as still no response. Possible that “like” button not functioning tonight.

10:10 p.m. Was v. productive day! Did some cleaning! Went for a run! Attempted a creative venture! Does not matter that entire population of Internet males save one dorky minister dude, as well as Facebook audience at large, did not contact at all! (Feel sorry for all females not so understanding and self-assured). Am responsible, productive, attractive adult. Will go to bed at reasonable time. Will bake five batches of cookies on Thursday.


It's  Singleness Week on the blog!  Find the whole collection here.

#tammy

Having the perfect hashtag makes any situation better.  I would like to introduce all my single friends to two useful hashtags for all your singleness needs.

The first one is my very own creation: #reallifeinthetrenches

It was birthed a couple years ago when I attended a bridal shower where everyone was asked to give relationship advice to the bride-to-be.  I had none.  So I told them about my most recent dating experience, where I went out with a man who, days later, moved to the Arctic Circle for the rest of his life.  So the best advice I could offer was not to get relationship advice from me.  People laughed.  "This is real life," I told them.  "Real life in the trenches."

Can I suggest some real-life situations where you may find my hashtag helpful?

• At a wedding.  All your acquaintances there are married, except one single lady who was supposed to attend.  The bride thoughtfully seated you next to her.  But she had a family emergency and didn't come, so you sit at a table of couples next to the only empty chair in the house.  #reallifeinthetrenches
• On the eHarmony.  Your friend hijacks your profile to message a cute guy on her own behalf.  She accidentally clicks the box that says, "Alert me when So-and-So responds."  eHarmony immediately charges $7.99 to your credit card for its alerting service.  So-and-So never responds.  (You bought the service.  You would know.)  #reallifeinthetrenches
• In the kitchen.  Mousetrap snaps and a little rodent squeaks its last.  No one to clean that thing up but you.  #reallifeinthetrenches
• At the dinner table.  Someone mentions a mutual acquaintance she thinks is attractive.  You stop and do the math.  He is closer to age 12 than the ages of two thirds of the single women at the table.  #reallifeinthetrenches
• On the living room couch.  Your roommate is making brownies and walks in with a spoon for you to lick clean.  This literally just happened.  #reallifeinthetrenches

So maybe real life in the trenches is not all that bad. 

Anyway, the next hashtag requires a quote and a story.  One of my single friends did some volunteering a few months ago and got to know a lady named Tammy.  She ran into her a few months later, and Tammy had this to say:

"Girl, I know I recognize you.  How do I know you?!  Oh yeah!  You're that loud mouth girl that brings me food sometimes!!  You done put on some weight, girl!  What, like 20, 30 pounds?  Don't chu worry though, girl.  You were blessed by the good Lord with hips and an ass.  Let me see your stomach.  Yeah girl.  Here's what you do.  Knock 15 points off that body and the boys will come running.  You single?  Yeah... that's cause you let yourself get fat.  But don't worry.  Tammy got chu, girl."

As my friend said, "Tammy gives zero cares about my feelings."  We all agreed the world needs more people like Tammy.  Now when we come across prime singleness moments, we just say "#tammy."

Someone at work reminds you that you better start having kids soon if you ever want to have them?  #tammy

Run across some girl cursing out her bicycle because she doesn't have a boyfriend to curse out? #tammy

Ready to send out a stack of four RSVP cards, after writing four "one"s in a row?  #tammy

Once I texted my roommate in the midst of a stressful singleness situation and asked her to pray for me.  Her response?

Oh boy.  #reallifeinthetrenches

I think Tammy would approve.


It's  Singleness Week on the blog!  Find the whole collection here.

An eBook by me, for you!

This summer, I've made a deliberate effort to write more. (Hence the birth of this blog.)

The most daunting of all writing projects is a book. Today I'm pleased to share with you my first book!!!

To thank you for your readership, I'm publishing it here, in its entirety, for free!  Yeah!

Here it is, guys. Enjoy.

"This is a horse. A pig is rit here."

"Here is a lamb. You know wat this is and it says"

"A turkey says. And a cow says moo."

Can't wait for this project to take the non-fiction world by storm! New York Times best seller list, here I come! 

[In the Style of Jason Mraz] At the Baby Shower

I wrote this poem about a baby shower I recently attended, in which only I and two other women had no babies, either in or out of our bellies.  As an aside, I should tell you that I love babies and I like baby talk.  I am in no way bothered by birthing stories.  But "I am in no way bothered by birthing stories" does not make for very funny poetry.

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

• DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE MALE.
• DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED.
• DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ SLANG ABOUT THE NETHER REGIONS.  (Sorry, Mom :) )
• DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DO NOT PROMISE TO SING IT IN YOUR HEAD TO THE TUNE OF JASON MRAZ'S "I"M YOURS."

OK, I think we're covered here.  Let's go.


Well, I went to a shower for a baby that's a'comin;
The ladies were all snackin and the conversation hummin.
But I fell right through the cracks
Til my girls got my back!

We got no babies on our boobies and no icepacks in our privates,
No lanolin, no diapers, and no cause to get excited
At gripe water, or the sneeze
That lets out all your pees!

Oh and please, please hesitate
Some more (lots more!).
This stuff can wait.
I'm sure!

There's no need to contemplate
Your nipples' size,
Your hoohah's fate;
No more!

So I'm sittin at the table with the ladies with no babies
We're just chattin bout our travels (the good places and the shadies)
When we hear some nursing news:
Baby got engulfed in her boobs!

The moms get louder with their stories and they're sounding pretty gory
We hear things we never asked to know about their under-storeys
So we up our volume too:
"I went to Zealand, New!"

We talk louder but it's useless cuz the baby talk is flying
I mention Machu Picchu but "MY VAJAJAY WAS CRYIN!"
Splits the air (Like it was split.
Cuz the baby tore it!)

Please don't scootch a little closer, dears.
I will plug all my ears.

Oh and please, please hesitate
Some more (lots more!).
This stuff can wait.
I'm sure!



Hehehe. :)  Congrats to all my pregnant friends. 

[In the Style of Dave Barry] Inertia

"In the Style of..." is a series in which I attempt to imitate the writing style of some of my favorite writers.  This is an essay I tried to write in the style of humorist Dave Barry.  It was a lot harder than I thought.

Inertia 

           Today we are going to talk about the physical property of matter which states that an object in motion will stay in motion and an object at rest will stay at rest.

            Yes, I am referring to inertia, as you no doubt were aware because you paid attention in your high school physics class rather than spending your time giggling with your friend as you tallied the quirks of all of your male classmates.  Unfortunately, I was the second type of student so I can’t tell you much about inertia. 

            We made our tallies on the brown paper bag that served as a cover for my physics book.  We kept track of all sorts of things: the number of times we thought our teacher was fibbing about whether or not something would be covered on a quiz, the number of times Robbie almost fell over backward as he leaned back onto one leg of his folding chair, the number of times Billy made a snide remark about Matt’s soccer skills, and so on.  We even had a column for the number of times a certain classmate’s voice cracked.  This column was called “R Crack,” and R was NOT PLEASED when he saw it on my physics cover and guessed what we were talking about.

            We had another friend in the class who was so devoted to his study of physics that he spent most of his class time sitting across the table from us, with his back to the teacher.  It’s funny that I really don’t recall much about physics at all, but I vividly remember the day that guy spent the entire class patiently chewing off an inflamed taste bud.  I also clearly recall the day that Alex licked his finger and stuck it in my friend’s ear, which was a cause for some high-pitched squawks from my friend and a disapproving look from Mr. B.  

            Anyway, inertia.

            Inertia means… Let’s see.  I’d look it up, except I don’t have Internet right now so I’d actually have to find a book or get to a library.  Which I don’t want to do, because… inertia!

            Inertia also explains why I’m resting on my couch instead of making lunch, even though I’m hungry and it’s already 4:41 p.m.  An object at rest stays at rest.

            My guess is that a lot of major world problems could be solved if we could just get rid of inertia.  Take highway construction projects, for example.  Why don't they get done faster?  Well, at the end of the first day, all the equipment was shut down and all the workers went home.  They discovered that a memory foam mattress and a "Nature's Sounds Sleepytime CD" feel a lot better than a day at work, and they never went back.  An object at rest will stay at rest!

            Inertia also states that an object in motion will stay in motion.  Congress is a good example of this principle.  Back when our country was founded, our founders knew we would need some laws.  So they created a governing body called “Congress.” 

            “Congress,” they said, “You are in charge of making some laws.” 

            Congress set to work writing laws, which was very helpful because at that time we needed some basic regulations on the books, such as how to elect a president and what to do with murderers.

            But those basic laws all got written in the first few years, and someone forgot to tell Congress it was OK to stop making laws.  This explains why our federal tax code would, if printed on standard printer paper, fill the state of North Dakota to a depth of four feet if it was scattered on the ground.  I made that up, but you get the point.  (It would actually fill the state of Alaska.)

           Recently, the logical-law drought got so bad that California was forced to write a law outlawing plastic bags at grocery stores.  For centuries, this country has gotten along just fine with the question “Paper or Plastic?”.  We won two world wars that way. Then one day Congress ran out of things to do, and you find yourself committing a crime by providing your customers with a plastic sack for their eggs.  Blame inertia.

            I wish there was some way we could stop inertia so that we could stem the tide of silly laws, and our road projects would get done on time, and I could finally get some lunch.  Unfortunately, they must have covered the topic of overcoming inertia on the day that I spent physics class learning how to make a necklace out of paper clips, so I guess we’re out of luck.

            But there’s a paper clip on the footrest next to this couch that would make a lovely ring.

[In the Style of Flight of the Conchords] Tears of a Carpenter

Last night, my community group did some odd jobs at our church camp.  I'd like to tell you a bit about the night, in the style of Flight of the Conchords' Tears of a Rapper:


Some people say carpenters don't have feelings.
...We have feelings.
Some people say we're not carpenters.
...We're carpenters.
...That hurts our feelings, when you say that we're not carpenters.
Some people say that we're invincible.
....We're vincible.

drop the beat

It's Monday night, and I'm at CG
Waitin for instructions from my friend, Shaly.
There's a camp to clean; no time to fail.
But I know what I should do cuz I got her e-mail.

"Find the back room, to the west, where the carpet's filled with mold.
Find a spot along the edge where you can grab and take hold.
Rip the carpet and the pad and then throw it all away.
Then patch the broken wall if you still have time today."

I found a room with carpet and a janky looking wall.
I knew it was the right room cuz it din't smell good at all.
My friend and I got truckin; soon the carpet was half out.
When Matt stopped by and said, "Hey, ladies, what's this all about?"

"Are you worried 'bout our workmanship?" we asked with drips of sweat.
"Well, it doesn't look too bad, but don't finish this room yet."
"Why not?" we asked.  He sighed and paused, and then he laid the boom:
"You got the carpet up but you DID THE WRONG ROOM."

"Oh no!  We're on the east!" I cried. "This building is confusing."
(But I just didn't think enough before we started cruising.)
Now I know to check for sure when someone tells me "west."
It's over on the side of earth where the sun sets.