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About the cover

  D e s e r t   E x p o s u r e   November 2009


nammer

Gender Wars, Crazy Talk and Medical Miracles

Plus tips for handling telemarketers and drinking don'ts.



Losing the battle of the sexes. . . The war between men and women rages on, with this volley from Old Grumps:

"On their wedding night, the young bride approached her new husband and asked for $20 for their first lovemaking encounter. In his excited state, her husband readily agreed. This scenario was repeated each time they made love, for more than 30 years, with him thinking that it was a cute way for her to afford new clothes and other incidentals that she needed.

"Arriving home around noon one day, she was surprised to find her husband in a very drunken state. He explained that his employer was going through a process of corporate downsizing, and he had been let go. It was unlikely that, at the age of 59, he'd be able to find another position that paid anywhere near what he'd been earning, and therefore, they were financially ruined.

"Calmly, his wife handed him a bank book that showed more than 30 years of steady deposits and interest totaling nearly $1 million. Then she showed him certificates of deposit worth over $2 million, and informed him that they were one of the largest depositors in the bank. The wife explained that for the more than three decades she had 'charged' him for sex, these holdings had multiplied. And these were the results of her savings and investments.

"Faced with evidence of cash and investments worth over $3 million, her husband was so astounded he could barely speak, but finally he found his voice and blurted out, 'If I'd had any idea what you were doing with the money, I would have given you all my business!'

"That's when she shot him.

"You know, sometimes men just don't know when to keep their mouths shut."



In the interest of equal time, of a sort, we follow with this short but not exactly sweet tale, courtesy of CharlesC:

"An old man is standing silently by the grave of his wife at the end of her funeral. The pastor is silently waiting to assist him if necessary. A huge dark cloud forms in the sky, a bolt of lightning hits a nearby tree, and thunder shakes the ground. The old man says, 'Well she made it there OK.'"



The do-not-call list. . . Next time the phone rings with some sales pitch, try these ideas from Tigger of Oz for dealing with telemarketers:

"If they want to loan you money, tell them you just filed for bankruptcy and you could sure use some money.

"If they start out with, 'How are you today?,' say, 'I'm so glad you asked, because no one these days seems to care, and I have all these problems. My arthritis is acting up, my eyelashes are sore, my dog just died. . .'

"If they say they're John Doe from XYZ Company, ask them to spell their name. Then ask them to spell the company name. Then ask them where it is located, how long it has been in business, how many people work there, how they got into this line of work, if they are married, how many kids they have, etc. Continue asking them personal questions or questions about their company for as long as necessary.

"This works great if you are male. Telemarketer: 'Hi, my name is Judy and I'm with XYZ Company.' Wait for a second and then, with a real husky voice, you ask, 'What are you wearing?'

"Cry out in surprise, 'Judy? Is that you? Oh my God! Judy, how have you been?' Hopefully, this will give Judy a few brief moments of terror as she tries to figure out where she could know you from.

"Say 'no' over and over. Be sure to vary the sound of each one, and keep a rhythmic tempo, even as the telemarketer is trying to speak. This is most fun if you can do it until he hangs up.

"If a phone company calls trying to get you to sign up for the Family and Friends Plan, reply, in as sinister a voice as you can, 'I don't have any friends. Would you be my friend?'

"If the company cleans rugs, respond: 'Can you get out blood? Can you get out goat blood? How about human blood?'

"After the telemarketer gives his spiel, ask him to marry you. Tell him that you can't just give your credit card number to a complete stranger.

"Tell the telemarketer that you work for the same company, and they can't sell to employees."



Annals of medicine. . . This thought-provoking anecdote comes our way courtesy of Ed of Mesilla Park, who writes:

"While sitting in the doctor's waiting room, I had the urge to empty my bladder. Upon leaving, I saw a sign on the exit door that read, 'Patients and staff will wash their hands before returning to work or waiting room.'

"Awhile later, I saw the doctor. I told him that I had taken a shower that morning and put on clean underwear. On the way to the doctor's office, I used the telephone, got the car keys, opened the house door, the garage door, the car door, started the car, shifted it. 'Arriving at your office, I opened the door, signed in (your pen), picked up a well-used magazine and opened the visiting-room door. My penis is far cleaner than all the things before I touched it! Your sign should read, "Wash your hands BEFORE using the restroom."'

"He allowed that this was probably true. Later I heard him tell the entire office staff my suggestion."



Send us your own pearls of wisdom, anecdotes and yarns, true or otherwise: diary@desertexposure.com, fax 534-4134 or PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062.



Annals of inebriation. . . Writing all the way from Fountain Hills, Ariz., RobertH returns with this tale that just happens to be about an Irishman. Please do not draw any conclusions, inferred or implied, about the drinking habits of Irishmen from this isolated incident:

"Flynn staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary. He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.

"Managing not to yell, Flynn sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood. He then hid the now-almost-empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

"In the morning, Flynn woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Mary staring at him from across the room. She said, 'You were drunk again last night weren't you?'

"Flynn said, "Why ever would you say such a mean thing?'

"'Well,' Mary replied, 'it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly — it's all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.'"

 

You're only as old as you feel. . . While we're on the subject of alcoholic beverages, GeeRichard writes:

"A fellow I met the other day said, 'I've often been asked, "What do you old folks do now that you're retired?" Well, I am fortunate to have a chemical-engineering background, and one of the things I enjoy most is turning beer, wine, Scotch and margaritas into urine.

"'And I'm pretty darned good at it, too!'"



Capital pun-ishment. . . If you're beginning to notice a certain, er, spirited theme to this month's Diary, well, you may need a stiff drink after this from Aletteration:

"A buddy and I are in my garage, working on his car, in between beers. 'What time is it?' he asks.

"'I dunno,' says me, 'I left my watch upstairs.'

"He asks, 'Aren't you afraid, ha ha, it'll run down?'

"'No,' I say. 'We've got a winding staircase.'"



Pondering the imponderables. . . Rather than passively observing life's imponderable mysteries, Ceil suggests these ways to create some of your own:

"To maintain a healthy level of insanity:

"At lunch time, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.

"Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice!

"Every time someone asks you to do something, ask if they want fries with that.

"Put decaf in the coffee maker for three weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.

"In the memo field of all your checks, write 'for marijuana.'

"Finish all your sentences with 'in accordance with the prophecy.'

"Skip down the hall rather than walk and see how many looks you get.

"Order a diet water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.

"Specify that your drive-through order is 'to go.'

"Sing along at the opera.

"Put mosquito netting around your work area and play tropical sounds all day.

"Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party because you have a headache.

"When the money comes out of the ATM, scream, 'I won! I won!'

"When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, yelling, 'Run for your lives! They're loose!'

"Tell your children over dinner, 'Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go.'"



Share the insanity! Send your crazy ideas to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email
diary@desertexposure.com.

 

Kids say the darnedest things. . . We welcome back JackB, who shares this thrilling tale of emergency care:

"Due to a power outage, only one paramedic responded to the call. The house was very dark so the paramedic asked Kathleen, a three-year-old girl, to hold a flashlight high over her mommy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby. Very diligently, Kathleen did as she was asked.

"Her mom pushed and pushed and after a little while, baby Connor was born. The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry.

"The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed three-year-old what she thought about what she had just witnessed.

"Kathleen quickly responded, 'He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place — smack his butt again!'"



Crazy is as crazy does. . . Finally, speaking of insanity, as we were a few paragraphs back, test your own mental stability with this little lesson from Toni in the Vet's Office:

"During a visit to the mental asylum, I asked the director, 'How do you determine whether or not a patient should be institutionalized?

"'Well,' said the director, 'we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub.'

"'Oh, I understand,' I said. 'A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup.'

"'No,' said the director. 'A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?'"



Send your favorite jokes, anecdotes, puns and tall tales to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com The best submission each month gets a brand-new Desert Exposure mouse pad, scientifically proven to take the strain out of emailing jokes to Desert Diary.



Postcards from the edge. . . Our ongoing invitation for readers to snap a photo of themselves on vacation holding a copy of Desert Exposure takes a nautical turn this month, with pictures from the Pacific coast and the Caribbean.

 

Diary

Here are Randi Halperen-Olson and Connie Powers, showing their excellent taste in reading matter at Cabrillo National Monument, Point Loma, San Diego, Calif.

 

Diary

And Bert de Pedro sends this photo with this note: "This stalwart crew of six roughed it in the Caribbean on a seven-day cruise followed by four days in Puerto Rico, home of the pia colada, doing scuba, kayaking, skip-line spanning of canyons, etc. All the couples were celebrating wedding anniversaries. The photo shows us sailing on a 50-foot yacht in the waters off Puerto Rico. From left to right: Frank and Patty Bielfeldt (married 36 years), Bert and Judy de Pedro (50 years) and Harvey Kaplan and Charlotte Hall (25 years)."

Congratulations to all. Guess that sometimes the "battle of the sexes" ends in a long-term peace treaty.

 

 

Whether you're headed to the coast or just to Lake Roberts, take along a copy of Desert Exposure and get a photo of yourself with it "on location." Send to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062 or email diary@desertexposure.com

 





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