Frozen Crabs and the Blond Stewardess

A lawyer boarded an airplane in New Orleans with a box of frozen crabs and asked a blond stewardess to take care of them for him.

She took the box and promised to put it in the crew's refrigerator.

He advised her that he was holding her personally responsible for them staying frozen, mentioning in a very haughty manner that he was a lawyer, and proceeded to rant at her about what would happen if s he let them thaw out.

Needless to say, she was annoyed by his behavior.

Shortly before landing in New York, she used the intercom to announce to the entire cabin, "Would the gentleman who gave me the crabs in New Orleans, please raise your hand?"

Not one hand went up ... so she took them home and ate them.

Two lessons here:

1. Lawyers aren't as smart as they think they are.

2. Blonds aren't as dumb as most folks think.

My apologies to all my lawyer friends ;) And please, refrain from the bashing I inevitably get for a good blond joke! I am truly completely and authentically blond (carpet and drapes actually match). I do concede to (a lot) of gray infiltration these days... This was passed on to me with the knowledge that I not only appreciate blond jokes, but for a lifetime have collected them.

If you're offended, it's time to take a broader view of what a blond joke really is. There is hardly a perception left that blonds are actually dumb because they're blond, instead, we're ALL guilty of the occasional "blond moment". My all time favorite was this:

Husband, commenting on a television commercial a few years ago, asked, "Who's the country singer on those Ford ads?"

I told him his first name is Toby...but I couldn't recall his last name. I said, "I'll tell you when I think of it".

Days went by. Then, all of a sudden, I remember the country singer's name, and nearly flung myself onto the floor laughing at myself.

His name is Toby Keith. My husband's name is...Keith.

So there you have it. I'm blond...what's your excuse????? Hmmm?

Pegged!

I predict the day's high temperature the Rube Goldberg way. I take a 9 am reading from the oldy moldy thermometer located on the north side of my house. Then I subtract 20 degrees, and there's my prediction for the day's high temperature. Well, it works, and much better than any of the local weathercaster's do - for the last 10+ years!

But today, my thermometer threw me a curve ball. It was pegged past it's printed temperatures. So what do I subtract the 20 from?

The Last Word

Can't add to this. Just...can't. Enjoy.

Well...Because I Can

Since so many things get under my skin these days (I know, get in line...), I appreciate these little things people do to make a statement. I guess this blog is one of mine:)

So, thought I'd share someone else's statement, since it makes such a great point, and because mostly, "You're so uninspired, and I'm so sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor..." (Not you personally, well, unless...you know. If you're reading this, you're probably not the one I'm disappointed with...)

Faux Umbrage Concern Kit (Extra Dosage) can have you fighting liberals in no time

I bow to the genius who created this post on his own blog:

Click Here and read an outrageously brilliant creation!

Why Twitter?

Like most of us who have been taken away with Twitter, those around us not on Twitter always ask: Why? I just don't get it.

To try to answer that question, my response is usually "heavy sigh". My followers on Twitter recognize that, it's pretty common for me to say that about a number of things, out of general exasperation.

Last Friday, Jim Algers interviewed the unofficial "Mayor of Twitter", Matte Black, better known as "@Shoq" (his Twitter name) on Jim's Common Sense radio program.

Here's the audio, Shoq says it all better than I ever could: The clip is about a half hour or so long, but it's really worth it.

Thanks to Jim Alger, Shoq, Eye Candy Montages & Vimeo for the clip!

Follow me on Twitter by clicking here!

Twitter User Shoq & Jim Alger Discuss Twitter from Eye Candy Montages on Vimeo.

Charley the Wonder Dog

Blessed to have a wonderful huge "dog compound" that we share with great neighbors, we have a little more than an acre of lawn to run our combined dogs on.

Charley, my female Zimbabwe Dimpleback (aka Rhodesian Ridgeback), who is about 9 years old, and not as spry as she used to be, LOVES to play catch with the Frisbee.


She's a real performer, especially if she gets applause for airborne catches, and astounding leaps.

Tonight we went out later than usual. Usually there's too many skeeters out to be comfortable the last half-hour before dark sets in. It was a very quiet evening in the 'hood.

After about three throws, I felt like there was someone staring at me from behind. Sort of made me feel uneasy. I threw the Frisbee, then turned to see what was behind me. I knew if it had been one of the neighbors, they would have announced themselves, or at least their own dogs would have.

Right behind me, about 20' away, were four black tail deer staring right at us. Not uncommon in this neighborhood, afterall, we sure spend a lot of green feeding them all the time (and by green, I mean roses, vegetable garden, etc.).

We've always been concerned about Charley meeting up with the deer. Our yard is not fenced, and Charley is trained off leash - at least when she wants to be, which is most of the time. Charley would just want to play. She's just dumb enough to not have a clue about hooves and deer, and that's what's always worried us.

Charley's saving grace is she's singularly focused. And I mean really, really narrowly singularly focused. As evidenced today, when she never noticed the deer. Not at all.

I was afraid to pack it in too early, once I saw the deer, because she would revolt, and might see the deer.

If I hung out and kept throwing the Frisbee, the deer might get spooked, and they'd go away.

I kept throwing, and they kept moving in closer! Slowly, right in through neighbor Dan's vegetable garden.

It started to feel like I was in a Stephen King story!

By the time I decided it was a good time to pack it in - Charley still hadn't noticed the deer - Charley headed up the hill, and I walked within three feet of the nose of one of the deer.

Another good Frisbee session in the books, and all is well on the hill!

Rest In Peace Walter Cronkite

I was, like most everyone else, sad to hear of Walter Cronkite's passing. That's it. The end of real journalism. At least as we knew it. Since the advent of blogging, we are transitioning into a new era of journalism. I'd like to think he'd approve.

I tweeted last night about a fun memory, for me, of Walter Cronkite.

In 1971, I lived with my family in Flintridge, CA. It was a part of La Canada ultimately. We lived on the big hill outcropping that you see when you watch the Rose Bowl game on New Year's Day. It's in Los Angeles County. My father at the time, was the General Manager of New York Life Insurance Company, in their large Sunset Los Angeles office in Downtown.

Early February of '71, Pops was in Orlando, Florida with all the other company managers, at the annual Manager's Meeting. The rest of us were at home, in Los Angeles.

On a normal Monday morning, at 6am, the day ceased to be "normal". I was almost 7 years old, in 1st grade, when my bed started dancing across my bedroom. Wow! What a ride! Everything in my room was crashing around, and I remember I couldn't get a hold of my bed enough to even sit upright. Mom was attempting to get to my room, but I could see her bouncing off the walls in the hallway! I could see this because my bed had moved several feet, enough for me to see out my bedroom doorway and to the hall. I wasn't afraid until I saw Mom. And then it stopped.

Funny, my brothers, older than me by 6 and 12 years, merely rolled over and went back to sleep. My mother still laughs about that.

But Pops wasn't with us. He was nice and safe in Orlando. Pops and his best buddies, Roger and Bob, also managers, and with him in Orlando, were just coming back in from a morning fishing run prior to their meetings. It was mid morning then in Orlando, and the news was breaking.

The news in 1971 was not like it is today, where you can channel hop to find out the latest breaking story. You had precisely 3 options: ABC, NBC & CBS. Period.

Pops and crew got off the boat and were loading the trunk of the rental car with their gear and bounty when someone told them LA had been hit with a huge earthquake. They raced back to the hotel and turned on the TV.

Walter Cronkite was on, reporting on the earthquake. What, specifically, he said, obviously I didn't hear. But Pop's interpretation was that he said, "Los Angeles has been destroyed".

Telephones also weren't what they are today. All phone lines to Southern California were down. Simple as that.

Pops couldn't assess, for himself, anything about what had happened. And then came the reports of the aftershocks. And more reports of "complete devastation" through out the Southland.

In those days, the "media" all originated from the east coast. They were not where we were, and they couldn't tell either.

Pops, without changing out of his fishing clothes, caught the next flight home, with his buddy Roger, whose family lived in Santa Barbara. Close enough to LA to be worried, especially when you couldn't call anyone.

We, were fine. Others, not so much. The "damage" in our house was to make more of a pig pen of my room than it already was. And by that I mean, all my toys and stuff basically turned into a whirlwind of crap. I think we had a few cracks around and stuff like that, maybe a broken crystal glass or two, but that was it. We were completely fine and dandy. So, by the way, was Roger's family in Santa Barbara.

And then began Pops' tirade against Walter Cronkite.

I guess Pops needed to have someone to blame for the extraordinary anxiety he experienced.

As I got older, I used to love to needle Pops about Cronkite. Like anyone my age, Walter Cronkite was our uncle. He was who we depended on to tell us what was happening, and the tenor of his voice told us to be concerned or not. The tenor of his voice would tell us to be gravely concerned at times. And we were.

Walter Cronkite always did his job, and he took his responsibility in that seriously. If you think about it, it seemed like he must have just sat in the studio waiting for the next big story to break, because he was always there. He wasn't like Aaron Brown (CNN) who didn't come off the golf course to anchor coverage following the Columbia Space Shuttle disaster. Ironically, Aaron Brown is currently teaching at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism at Arizona State University.

If life were a television program, Walter Cronkite served as the narrator of that program for millions of us. There was significant reason why he was considered The Most Trusted Man in America.

Regardless of how Pops may have felt about him.
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