Craig's List of Trick or Treat

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for therapy for Craig’s Mom

 

Halloween is in the air and in the aisles of every Wal-Mart, K-Mart, and grocery store.  Plastic pumpkins, Halloween costumes, and blood and guts sealed in plastic are on every end cap at every corner.  Most of the displays on the candy shelves offer sugar ladened, calorie loaded, thigh broadening treats in larger and super large packages.  But what if you were more inclined to offer up a trick instead of a treat?   You might start with Craig’s List.

If you want to sell it or buy it, Craig’s List will post it. Up until recently most of the listings were what you would expect on such a site: cars, washers, dryers, furniture, sports equipment etc. Free enterprise prevails. “If you want it, I got it. Let’s make a deal.”  According to WFAA News in Dallas www.wfaa.com/news/consumer/22236124l.html  the newest trend on Craig’s List, and just in time for Trick or Treat, is a bit unusual.  Women are selling positive pregnancy tests on Craig’s List. 

I suppose if you found yourself “in the family way”, you might be looking for ways to keep the future little tyke in diapers.  Given the procedure for taking such a test, a pregnant mom could continue to supply a steady stream (sorry about that) of positive tests for nine months. The return on your investment is better than buying gold, especially if you are a Texas gal.  For some reason, positive pregnancy tests go for around $5 more if from a Texas supplier.

Now the question is who would want such a thing?  I mean you could flash it around, maybe get a few early baby showers out of it, possibly a proposal from a reluctant boyfriend, maybe some extra cash on your Lone Star Card (equilevant to food stamps) but eventually your secret will be found out.

And how would you market such a thing?  “In need of some ‘Positive Reinforcement?’  Get your Clearblue First Response positive test results for the low price of $35.99.  But wait, call now and we will give you a second EPT test at no additional cost.  Just pay shipping and we will do the handling.  If you specify Texas, add an addition $4.99.  Call today.  Available for a limited time only.”

Since these tests are crossing state lines, will the Federal Interstate Commerce become involved?  Will they require a stamped date of freshness?  An expiration date?  Is there an expiration date?  Will they require the location of the collection site as they do for bottled water?

Is this another frivolous lawsuit in the making?  Will the positive results be used as a basis to sue Clearblue for “false/positives” or Craig’s list for fall advertising causing emotional suffering, damage, and in some cases heart attacks? This could be some trick!

Craig, does your mother know what you are listing? All I can say to the women supplying these tests, you better make hay while the sun shines because in nine months the gravy train will come to a stop.

Hey, Craig, Trick or Treat? 

Fall Football...but One Man Football?

One Man Football
by Jody Worsham
All rights reserved for a one man band

Football reigns supreme in Texas.  Not only do we play Pop Warner football starting at age six, we play regular 11 man football in junior high, high school, and college.  Texas A&M proudly sports the 12th man team.  And if you only have nine boys in your high school, you can still play football...six man football.

But if you happen to be an eight year old little boy with senior citizens for parents, living in a mostly retired community with no children, and you have an older sister who has just been given her own phone with unlimited text, you learn to play one man football.

How does he do that?  The question deserves an answer and here it is.

I video taped him playing one man football the other evening. First he is the center, calling the signals and hiking the ball high in the air.  Then he turns and runs to catch the ball as the quarterback.  

I think there was a blitz on that time because he stuck his right arm far out to the right, pivoted, and quickly switched the ball to his left hand.  He was now the running back.

 He did a quick reversal and spiraled the ball high and long downfield just to the side of the sand pile giving himself enough time to become the wide end receiver and score the touchdown.

But the most ingenious play was the kick for extra points. He threw the ball up in the air, caught it, placed it on the ground and held it with one finger, then spun around and picked it up and kicked it for the field goal.  Sometimes he made the extra point and sometimes he didn't.  He explained for the benefit of his single fan.

"I have to read the other team and decide if I want to go for two points or try for the field goal. I'm the quarterback so I can do that."

And with that he ran back to huddle up with his "teammates" before the next play. On the snap he ran wide to the left, then suddenly threw himself onto the sandpile.

"What happened?" I asked, fearing he had hurt himself.
"Got tackled."

He played like that for quite awhile and then he stopped.

"Is the game over?" I asked.

"No, it's half-time.  I'll be back in a minute.  Got to get some water."

When he came back he said "Can I see the instant replay of that last touchdown?"

"Sure," and I clicked the correct button on the i-pad and played it for him.

I could not help but admire his creativity and spirit. He was making the most of his situation and creating a fun filled evening for both of us.

There's a lesson in there somewhere.

For my husband, I think he was just glad the boy left the cheerleaders on the sidelines.

Live Long and Prosper, Monkey Pickles

by JodyWorsham
All rights reserved for Translation App

 I have been a guest writer on Monkey Pickles.Com for the past couple of months.  Huntz is the originator?  owner? Webmaster or something at Monkey Pickles.  He just sent out a memo (make that an e-mo) to all us new pickle writers...or maybe it was just me.

I don't know Huntz that well. I've talked to him once, but I'm thinking he may be a tad dyslexic, has fat fingers and keeps hitting the wrong keys, or he is possibly from another solar system. Here is the gist of what he wrote, I think.  I am writing this from memory having accidentally hit the delete button instead of the translation app.  It could be in English but I am not ruling out Klingon.

Huntz:  "Hope you are logging in backwards to Word Press and separating your words with  < and  > and h2o, with text tabs, and Word Stuff."

Login?? Logs in the woods out here.

 Backin?? Backed into a fence once...ok twice

h2o?? Thought that was water

h2o 2o?  Too much water?


Text? A book I had to read in school.

TAB?  First diet soft drink.

Huntz:  "Choose 3 tags from the most used and season well to increase the pipeline."

I go Tag-less since Michael Jordan appeared  in that TV commercial with the question "Boxers or Briefs" and no tag.  My most used tags are "Large, X-large, and Tent."

The only seasonings I have are salt and pepper but I also like fall and winter. Concerning pipelines, we have Mobile, Exxon, and Texaco and a few hundred others running through most of Texas.  That's about all we can handle right now.

In regard to word press, well I have had some experience there.  Our new puppy chewed up the kids' homework the other day so I had to first find the iron and press the paper so the teacher could read the words. So I do press words.

As the newest and oldest living Monkey Pickler writer and the one with quite possibly the shortest writing career in the history of Monkey Pickles, I can cut and paste and e-mail.  That's it. That is  the extent of my computer-ish-ness.

In the event Huntz is waiting for the Mother Ship to return and is doing Monkey Pickles on the side, I say "Live long and prosper, Huntz (and don't back into any pipelines)."

Miss America, 82 years later

by Jody Worsham grinsandgroans at yahoo.com
All rights reserved for jewelry cleaner

Is has been more than a few years since I watched the Miss America Pageant.  Things have changed.

Before watching the Miss America Pageant last night, I checked to see what interesting talents  I might see besides the customary singing,piano playing, and tap dancing.  Of the 53 contestants, the unusual talent fare included two baton twirlers, two Irish Step dancers, two violin performers, one ballet en pointe, two Bollywood dancers, one African Folkloric dance, and one combo baton, hoop, and flag twirling.  I was really hoping to see that last one.

After watching the talent performances that made it to the finals, I think the talent rules for the Miss America Pageant should be changed.  The young lady representing her state should have a talent representative of that state.  That would give us a good variety of talent to watch in between the TV commercials and the producers’ futile attempts to generate interest and suspense.

For example, Missouri is the "Show Me State" so maybe Miss Missouri could show us something.  I am not suggesting a tasteful striptease act, the swimsuit competition came pretty close to that this year or maybe I'm just getting old. Maybe she could show us how to carve a raft out of some logs. Miss Florida might wrestle an alligator.  Miss Louisiana could call ducks and Miss Alaska spearing a salmon would hold my interest.  I bet Miss Kentucky could race a thoroughbred around that giant indoor arena. Miss Texas could do some rope tricks or a Dallas Cowboy cheer and Miss New York could recite the Dow Jones closing numbers.

If you are going to represent you state, then that is what you should do.  Besides, if Miss New York had done that, then Miss Texas would have won for sure.  Not that I am disappointed that Miss Texas didn’t win, although she should have, but then I am a Texan.

I have to remember the Miss America Pageant is a scholarship pageant.  All that parading around in bikinis while wearing high heels, swooping down the runway in mermaid gowns, and twirling, dancing, singing and fiddling is to demonstrate how smart they are and how deserving of a scholarship they are.

In the years since I last watched the Miss America Pageant, I think I have missed something and it wasn't just the Miss Congeniality Award. 

Miss America has come of age.  Congratulations Miss America, aka. Miss New York, Bollywood and all.

Senior Citizen Writes Country Western Song

By Jody Worsham                                      

All rights reserved for Video Music Awards appearance, and I mean “RESERVED”

Today, with Social Security and Medicare being what it is for us Senior Citizens, I have been considering  what my next career move is going to be in order to pay for Medicare Part D-Q.

As a kid growing up and listening to Porter Wagoner and the Wagonmasters on the radio at my grandparents’ house, it seemed all you needed to create a hit country western song was  to include a cup of coffee, a train whistling down a lonely track, rain, and a girlfriend who had left you.  Add a steel guitar and a singer who could sing through his nose and you were a hit.

That was it.  I am going to be a country western songwriter.  Now I know nobody rides the train anymore, more like airplanes or motorhomes and coffee can't be just coffee; it has to be Starbucks or something.   Rain is good and we need some.  Today a girlfriend dumping you is just a quick text message, and I haven't heard a steel guitar since, well Porter Wagoner.

I’ll have to take a different approach but still keep true to the country western roots, maybe just updating it to reflect our modern times.   I’ve got it.  I’ll write a modern country western song about family.  I’ll call it…

                                                       "I Am My Own Grandma!"

I gave you life; I raised you right
But all you did was party all night.
Now you're gone.  You took my truck.
You left us three kids and hound dog named Buck.
We adopted the kids in the pouring rain.
Our family tree is hard to explain.
Kids, your daddy is your daddy and that will always be
But he is also your brother, cause you're all adopted see?
And your cousins are now your uncles
and your Paw is well your Paw
And I guess that makes me my own GrandMaw!
Now get me a cup of coffee;
 Make that a mocha frappe and a straw.
Today I am your Mother, but yesterday I was your Grand Maw.

Chorus:  We are just your typical family.
With a twisted family tree.
If some branches get chopped, and others spliced, it's all the same to me.
Cause when your kid ignores the law,
You can become your own Grandmaw!

Now all I need is a singer with sinus problems and an electric guitar and Medicare Part H is covered.

  Yeehaw!

The Ice Age Cometh!

by Jody Worsham
All rights reserved for..wait, was that my cell phone?

I have declared today as Local Clean Out the Freezer Day. I think I have things in there left over from the first Ice Age.

With school starting on Monday I am in a frenzy to get all those jobs done that I was going to do all summer in the hopes that with school starting and me having six hours of uninterrupted thought patterns, I could get some writing done because I have to write and submit. My friend said so.

That is only going to happen if I accomplish those pesky household chores now. On the way to the laundry room with the first pile of laundry, I noticed my lonely i-pad on my desk. It is Hump Day, after all. Lots of e-mails on Hump Day. I better stop and check my humor groups on the I-pad. Laughing makes the trip to the laundry room more fun. Oh, there's the refrigerator and it IS Local Clean Out the Freezer Day. From the arctic depths of the refrigerator freezer, I can hear the "ping" of my i-pad. Better go back and check that to see if there is a response to ....anything.

After reading four more e-mails, squeezing out a damp mop in preparation for a "swipe and wipe" of the den floor, I reward myself with a quick glance at the lap top. Sometimes it gets things the i-pad doesn't, especially if I forget to recharge the i-pad. And there might be a link to something I'm missing.

To recap: It is 8:52. I got up at 6 a.m. I am still in my pj's. I have read five humor pieces, made six comments, walked the pile of dirty clothes to the laundry room (that's as far as I got), opened the freezer door observing the frozen wasteland, and have a damp-soon-to-be-dry mop leaning against the den wall. The kids and Dr. Hubby are down at the Trump Chicken Condos laying a brick floor in preparation for the arrival of 50 baby show chickens on Tuesday.

It's quiet now. Maybe I should take advantage of that. I made a pretty good start on the chores. I think I deserve some computer writing time. Now if I could just think of something to write about.

Dang, I forgot. It is Quilting Day down at the Center. If I can get dressed, find my quilting needles and thread, I will only be 30 minutes late.

I'll celebrate Local Clean Out the Freezer tomorrow. The ice should be melted by then.

Jody the Medicare Mom

Jody can be found most days observing household clutter, identifying archeological scrapings from burned dinners, watching damp mops dry and wondering why, like her friend Wanda, she never gets anything done.

Let's Hear It for the FAT Cells!

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for fried foods everywhere

FAT!  We see it all the time, on the television, in the dieting aisles, walking down the beach, in the mirror.  We are bombarded with commercials selling the latest FAT reducing pills, drinks, rubs, wraps.  Skinny Minnies are effortlessly walking, climbing, lifting, twisting, or running on the latest torture contraptions released by the CIA.  These devices are guaranteed to give you washboard abs, a flat stomach, tight buttocks and endless trips to the chiropractor for twenty-four easy payments of $19.99 and a 300 calorie diet.  Our whole society has bought into the idea that FAT is BAD.

I am here to defend FAT.  Think about it.  In the culinary world fat makes the taste buds happy, happy, happy as Phil would say.  Without fat, potatoes would taste like library paste, Julia Childs couldn’t have named her book “The Joy of Cooking” and Paula Deen’s hair would have been too big for her body. Fat is to humans what a fur coat is to people in Miami.  It makes a statement.  It says “I have this and I am going to keep it whether you like it or not.”

Fat keeps whales from freezing in the Arctic waters.  Early man would have found himself unenlightened without bowls of fat to burn and shed light on his cave drawings.

Insurance companies should be giving discounts for an abundance of fat.  Statistics show that people with an ample supply of fat suffer fewer severe injuries from a fall than their skinny counterparts who are lacking in padding and are more likely to suffer broken bones.  Pirates carrying a hefty load of fat have also been known to survive longer on a deserted island than their thin shipmates.

In ancient economic systems, if you were worth your weight in gold, wouldn’t you like to be heavy on the scales?   It just might enable you to prevent foreclosure on that condo in Maui.

Without FAT our vocabulary and literature would be sadly lacking.  Who can forget fat lip, fat chance! fat bank account, padded expense account, padded cell, and padded seats?  Minnesota Fats, Fats Domino, Jabba the Hutt, the Hulk might never have made it into our literature and onto the silver screen had they been thin.

Great artists from the Renaissance and Baroque periods honored fat in their paintings and sculptures.  Fat happy cherubs adorn doorways and buildings.  Rotund and amply fed women were highly sought after as models.  A long legged, tall thin Barbie would never have made it as a model in those days.  Twiggy would have been passed over as ugly, unattractive, and definitely too thin.  No stick figures for the world’s greatest artists.

Therefore, let the world salute FAT!  May it keep us warm in winter, protect us when falling, bring us wealth when weighed, and sustain us when marooned on deserted islands.  We thank you for flavoring our food, our language, our literature, and our art.

Hippy!  Hippy!  Hooray for FAT!