Archive for the ‘Humor Columns & Humorous Essays’ Category

Tow Guy Blues

Tuesday, August 29th, 2006

I should put my local tow guy on a yearly retainer. Here’s a typical conversation:

Me: Hi, it’s me, Madeleine Kane. Guess whose husband left the lights on again. My address is…
Tow Guy: Still have you down from last week. Have you considered our frequent user plan? …  (Tow Guy Blues is continued here.)

Jump, Jive, and Sweat

Monday, August 28th, 2006

“You’re gonna swing dance in this weather? Are you insane?”

I’ve been asked that a lot lately, which isn’t surprising when you consider this summer’s humidity and heat wave. New York City’s weather has been so unbearable, that felons have switched from car theft to stealing AC’s. … (Jump, Jive, and Sweat is continued here.)

UPDATE: Happy International Dance Day! (April 29th)

Sparring Over Spare Time

Friday, August 25th, 2006

Do you and your spouse argue about how to spend your spare time? Togetherness can be tough to achieve when a couple’s interests just don’t jibe. But this contract may be just the cure for your spare time blues.

AGREEMENT entered into on _____, 20__ between opera-buff Wife and sports-fan Husband.

WHEREAS, Husband has been badgering Wife to attend a ball game for as long as they’ve been married, and he has never managed to reach first base;

WHEREAS, Wife has been pressuring Husband to go to the opera for years, and Husband is running out of excuses; and

WHEREAS, Husband and Wife know that if they don’t resolve this soon, each will be attending all functions solo.

NOW, THEREFORE, the parties hereby agree to the following spare time terms:

    1. Wife will attend one ball-type game, the selection of which shall be in Husband’s sole discretion, and Husband will attend one opera performance, the selection of which shall be in Wife’s sole discretion. In exercising such discretion, both spouses will keep in mind that divorce lawyers are really expensive … (Sparring Over Spare Time is continued here.)

De-Stress Or Distress?

Tuesday, August 22nd, 2006

Are you stressed out? A quivering blob of nerves? Are your muscles lodged in a permanent clench? Here’s what not to do:

1. Lie down on the floor with your knees bent and pointed upward. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale slowly. Take another deep breath. Wonder if that smell is gas.

2. Concentrate on your breathing, on releasing that stale, toxic, virulent energy trapped inside you. Feel your body begin to relax. Sense the tension seeping out of your shoulders and toes, your life force beginning to renew. Jump up to check the stove.

3. Resume the position. Resume breathing. Become obsessed by cobwebs on the ceiling.

4. Decide to play a relaxation CD. Your choices are “healing harps,” ocean waves, and whales. Wonder which best suits your persona. Whales remind you of sharks. Decide to go with the harps.

5. Lie down a third time, notice ceiling, slam eyelids shut. Breathe deeply, welcoming the return of your vital juices. I.n.h.a.l.e…t.w.o…t.h.r.e.e…f.o.u.r…E.x.h.a.l.e…t.w.o…t.h.r.e.e…f.o.u.r. Savor the rise and fall of your abdomen. Focus on the harps which remind you of angels which remind you of heaven which reminds you of hell which reminds you that maybe you should listen to something else. … De-Stress Or Distress is continued here.)

UPDATE: August 15th is National Relaxation Day.

Tubing Blues

Sunday, August 20th, 2006

Tubing — the masochistic act of hurtling down a fall-fraught river while clinging to an inner tube. Somehow my husband Mark talked me, a devout wimp, into trying it.

Why did I go along for the rocky river ride? Perhaps I was dazed by the beauty of the Catskill Mountains’ Esopus River. Perhaps the brave (or foolish) teens who plunged heedlessly into the Esopus shamed me into it. Or maybe I was feeling guilty for being a perennial naysayer. Whatever the reason, one summer day I broke my first rule of survival: If they advise helmets, avoid it.

Before risking the river we signed a paper saying our survivors couldn’t sue. Then Mark paced while I interrogated the clerk about safety. Jagged rock protection was high on her (and my) list. Sneakers for the feet, a helmeted head, and plywood in the tube to protect the tush.

After a short, steep bus ride up river, the driver said “Just throw your tubes into the river and get in.” He pointed towards what looked suspiciously like waterfalls.

Foolish me, I’d assumed there’d be an attendant to provide advice, guidance, and moral support. And to hold the damn tube in place long enough for me to lower myself onto it and grab its pathetic excuse for handles. At the very least, they could have posted a sign saying, “Start your death ride here.” … (Tubing Blues is continued here.)

Parental Proposal

Monday, August 14th, 2006

The “help wanted” pages are filled with job descriptions that defy comprehension. This probably explains why so many parents can’t quite figure out what it is their children do for a living. And it can lead to parental queries like this one from my mother-in-law to my husband Mark:

“Tell me exactly what your job is. Go slowly. I have to write it down.”

Mark hadn’t switched employers or secured a promotion; he’s been doing essentially the same work for ten years. So why the sudden curiosity? Because his parents recently attended a wedding packed with inquisitive relatives. Relatives who appeared to be more interested in Mark’s career than they were in the bride and groom. …

Parental Proposal is continued here.)

A Poodle Tale

Friday, August 11th, 2006

I read recently that elegant dog garb and pricey canine day-care are “in” these days. Frankly, I was pleased to learn this. For until I acquired this seemingly frivolous bit of information, I was seriously concerned about my parents.

My mom and dad bought a toy poodle nearly a decade ago and, almost immediately, my mother took to her knitting. Multi-colored dog coats. Stylish woolen sweaters. Pixie the poodle dressed better than I do.

I wasn’t worried, at first. I just assumed that my mother’s knitting was part of a plot to garner grandchildren. Her unspoken message? “If you and your brother don’t give me a reason to knit booties, I’ll simply knit doggy-wear instead. … (A Poodle Tale is continued here.)

Drivers Who Make Me See Red

Thursday, August 10th, 2006

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’m prejudiced against people who drive red cars.

Yes, I know — bias is bad, and I’m very ashamed. But in my defense, let me add that RED CAR DRIVERS ARE LUNATICS.

Oops, did I say that? Sorry! I promise that from now on I’ll stop maligning those CERTIFIABLE MANIACS CAREENING AROUND IN BRIGHT RED AUTOMOBILES. … (Drivers Who Make Me See Red is continued here.)

Those Unspeakable Meetings

Wednesday, August 9th, 2006

Do men and women communicate differently at work? Yes, according to proponents of the “men and women are from different galaxies” school of thought. Women are said to be self-effacing and apologetic. Men, on the other hand, are described as convincingly confident … even when they don’t have the slightest idea what they’re talking about.

Such generalizations can be dangerous, of course, and sometimes downright wrong. For instance I … forgive me for saying so … am a woman and I … uh … probably shouldn’t brag about this, but I … on admittedly rare occasions … sometimes manage to appear … uh … completely self-assured and … well … I probably shouldn’t waste your time on such a personal matter. In any event, I’m probably wrong.

Communication differences can be especially pronounced during business meetings. Especially those mind-numbingly “important” meetings where a gaggle of men and women perch and/or slouch around a conference table and discuss critical company issues like new products, marketing budgets, company picnics, and football scores. … (Those Unspeakable Meetings is continued here.)

Working Stiffed

Tuesday, August 8th, 2006

Finding a new job can be a daunting challenge. But if you follow my simple 21-step plan, you’ll soon be battling cranky alarm clocks, rush-hour traffic, and the “living for the weekend” daily grind.

1. Lose job.

2. Panic, freak out, and turn into a pulsating blob of hysteria. CAUTION: It’s best to do this at home — you’ll be wanting that reference.

3. Torture everyone you’ve ever met with your tale of woe. Bitch about your former boss, your boss’ boss, your lousy luck, the manipulative coworker who stole your job, the economy, and, of course, the world as we know it. Seriously consider buying a voodoo doll.

4. Perfect the art of sleeping late, parading about in slatternly garb, and doing absolutely nothing. Tell your spouse you spent the entire week working on your resume. When spouse says “Let me have a look,” say you’re still fine-tuning it.

5. Start working on resume. … (Working Stiffed is continued here.)

Hapless Home Buyer’s Guide

Tuesday, August 8th, 2006

The road to buying a house is paved with dwindling bank accounts, devious brokers, and home owners who (you hope) are desperate to sell. Yes, it’s a challenge. But with the help of these easy to follow instructions, you can negotiate your way into unthinkable debt:     

1. Decide you must buy a house because your present one is:
a. too small;
b. too large;
c. non-existent … (Hapless Home Buyer’s Guide is continued here.)

A Traveler’s Net Woes

Tuesday, August 8th, 2006

If your husband ever invites you to join him on a business trip, be sure to ask him these questions:
   1. Will you ever get to see him while he is not — technically — asleep?
   2. What will he do, if you accidentally lock yourself out of your hotel room in the middle of the night while you are not — technically — dressed?

Unfortunately, I didn’t think to ask these questions when my husband Mark invited me to join him for a six-week Boston business trip. So I had to learn the answers the hard way. …

( A Traveler’s Net Woes is continued here.)