Unfortunately in leaving off the part about revering me, Hilary left the door wide open for my children to reinterpret and actually restate the title. In their opinion, after having lived under my tutelage for lo these many years, the proverb surely must be, “It takes a village IDIOT to raise a child.”

I am not flattered. But then, neither am I alone. For if I am the village idiot, my husband must certainly be the district dolt, colony cuckoo, hamlet half-wit or borough buffoon. (Get the feeling I am enjoying naming him?)

So why the lack of reverence? Why the fall from grace? Why the sprained eyeball sockets, which incidentally are not covered by our HMO? Simple, they are doing what you and I did to our parents, they are growing up.

Yes, these poor children of mine have advanced to the age where each statement, argument, and debate is now punctuated with eye rolls, exaggerated sighs and dramatic exits worthy of an Oscar. Like generations of children (and Enron and Worldcom employees) before them, they have discovered that the very people they once trusted, looked up to and respected for all their knowledge and wisdom, have been making it all up as they go along. And just like Enron and Worldcom stock, shares of Daddy&Mommy, Inc. (NASDAQ: DAM) have plummeted. Our mental net worth is lower than a share of Martha Stewart, Inc. – and that’s not a good thing.

I suppose they could be right. After all, only an IDIOT would say things to them like, “Don’t run with scissors.”, “Turn off the lights.”, “Eat your vegetables.” and“Turn down that music!!” And only the stupidest of the stupid would force them into activities such as room cleaning, dish washing and laundry folding. And I do suppose I further reinforce that “idiot image” by doing things as insane as hugging them in public, looking over their shoulders while they are online and insisting their homework be completed before the TV is turned on. What a screwball I am!

For his part, the hamlet half-wit need only open his mouth. Poor dolt, any attempt to verbally discipline them results in his tongue tying into knots that would make a sailor proud. He turns into a human gumball machine of sorts, with thoughts just randomly dropping from his addled brain onto his tongue and out of his mouth. It is not uncommon to hear things like, “You know better than . . . uh, yeah . . . um . . . when you think what you uh did . . . hrumpf . . . and then things like, you know . . . well, stop it and . . . ROOM TO YOUR GO!” Has all impact of a French movie with no subtitles, in fact the child in trouble has dozed off on more than one occasion.

He also manages to retain his title by virtue of his recreational attire. Now in all fairness, the girls did buy him the Sponge Bob Squarepants boxer shorts, but they never envisioned he would actually pair them with his hideous neon orange and blue aloha shirt and then go public. And they say I’m an idiot?

Well, actually no. They do not say it out loud. After all, the children in this village know where their allowance comes from. And while they may be the offspring of idiots, they certainly aren’t stupid.

The post It Takes a Village (Idiot) to Raise a Child appeared first on Just Laugh.

I always go through the drive thru at McDonald’s. I love the thrill of knowing that if something may go wrong; whether it’s screwing up my order or something else, I’m certain the adventure will be worthwhile. Today was one of those days. The lady working the drive thru, an older woman about 40, proved to me that anyone could survive through this scary thing called life.

I place my order in the new, high tech intercom that stresses the importance of getting an order right. This bit of info gives me a secure feeling knowing that my order will be received properly, but what I’m aware of is, there’s still a person filling it. Hmm. Oh well.

The total comes to $3.63, which I already know, because I order the exact same thing every time I visit McDonald’s.

I don’t like having so many pennies. During my lifetime, I’ve successfully acquired an enormous amount of pennies that I’ve stored in a jug that should be filled with a miniature ship, like the Titanic. And on that ship would stand a little Leonardo figurine that would say, “I’m on top of the world,” every other hour. But instead, I have pennies.

So knowing that total ahead of time, and in order to unleash my pennies to one day fulfill my dream of storing a miniature ship in this jug, I bring along three pennies. This, so I can, in turn, receive back, normal human, spendable change, such as a dime or a nickel.

When the lady greets me at register one, because register two is for picking up the order (apparently they’ve taken a lesson out of the movie theater’s handbook, “Here’s your ticket, now go three feet to have it ripped.”), I give her $5.03.

She looks at the three pennies and stresses that the total is $3.63. I look at her, and she looks back, waiting for me to respond to, “The total is $3.63.”

I reply, “I’m aware.” So she gives me back my three pennies and waits. I inform her that I may have some change, and then I give her back the three pennies.

It is now that she understands. Either that, or the sudden build up of cars has shaken her up. After all, it is lunchtime. The common cents we share has now jumped to common sense.

I ended up not being screwed of my order because I’ve already had my incident in the drive thru. I begin to drive away and realize this experience has forced me to think, “This woman is working the register? I wonder if she ever ends up short?” I must have been thinking out loud because I used quotes a sentence ago. When I think to myself I use a ‘ and a ‘.

To this she replies, “I’m not short. I’m vertically challenged.”

Before I have a chance to leave, she hands me a receipt. A memento. But what do I need a receipt for? Like all of a sudden some person will want me to furnish proof that these fries are actually paid for.

“Did you pay for those fries?”

“These? Yeah, I have the receipt right here.”

Then I’ll show it and things will be fine again. Either that, or McDonald’s all of a sudden has a 30 day price guarantee. “If you find McDonald’s fries cheaper at Hardees or Burger King, then you’ll get a price discount.” Right, for McDonald’s fries.

If the receipt incident ever happens, I would have met two people with a lack of common sense. I finally pull away with my value meal. About a week later, I notice the value meal I always get is 30 cents cheaper. I smile, knowing that in my possession (my file cabinet) is the receipt for my value meal. “Plus 30 cents for Jason,” I say. I go to my file cabinet and look under the ‘F’ label, for fries, and find that it’s not there. Just my luck, I lost the receipt. I pick up the phone and call McDonald’s, hoping that they may have record of my purchase of a value meal.

The McManager gets on the phone and says to me, “What do you need a receipt for?”

“For the price guarantee.”

“There is no price guarantee.”

“There isn’t?”

“No,” he adds. “Listen, when you were here the last time, did they short you?”

In the background, the 40 year old drive thru operator says, “I can’t help it. My parents are both short.”

And that’s why I love the drive thru.

The post It’s Common Sense, Isn’t It? appeared first on Just Laugh.

2. You said the vacuum cleaner was broken, and this one was on sale. Look, it even has a linoleum attachment, so you don’t have to use a broom in the kitchen anymore.

2. Just downloading porn.

2. “Thank you, I have now heard you. I ask that you hear me.”

(Secretary of State Colin Powell to hecklers at the World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg, South Africa.)

2. Wait until I tell my friends back home that I rode in the same elevator with Senator Jesse Helms and Senator Strom Thurmond.

2. You mean I’ll get $10,000 just for saying “Dude, you’re getting a Dell?”

2. “(H)e’ll be taught a greater appreciation for nature and gravity as he hunts, kills, cleans and cooks for himself.”

(Ted Nugent commenting that for $1 million, he would teach ‘N Sync’s Lance Bass about bow hunting, instead of Bass paying $20 million to spend several days at the International Space Station).

2. If the glove does not fit, you must acquit.

2. Those gold teeth look stupid and you talk like a girl. You probably hit like one too.

2. Since you’re not seeing her anymore, do you mind if I ask her out?

2. Manual schmanual, any idiot can operate a miter saw.

2. I did not have sex with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky.

2. “Animals are precious cargo and are treated accordingly.”

(An unnamed Air Canada airline official commenting on a $5 million lawsuit filed by a self-employed artist over the airline’s loss of one of her five cats).

2. Six months worth of dance lessons! I thought you could take me dancing sometime.

2. Gimme a Bud Lite, no glass.

2. At PBS, you can pledge any amount, from $5 to $500. We’re just so grateful to everyone who takes the time to support the programming on their local public television station.

2. Pull my finger.

2. Awww, what’s the matter? Doughnut shop out of sprinkles again?

2. “When I was a little boy growing up in Indiana, if someone told me I’d be getting the Artist of the Millennium award, I’d never have believed it.”

(Michael Jackson at the MTV Video Music Awards, thinking he was receiving the nonexistent Artist of the Millennium award, instead of well wishes on his 44th birthday).

2. I’ll see you in court, Ronald McDonald!

2. Can you hear me now? Good!

2. Hey y’all, watch this!

The post My Editor is Such a Wonderful Person! appeared first on Just Laugh.

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“These people are tired of hearing acronyms like GED, LSD and BLT, yet their name itself is an acronym,” said an amused Gerri Webster, who herself belongs to several acronym groups.

It is understood of the irony behind the organization, but Students Against Acronyms is a longer name that looks unusual on flyers, according to Kelly Jeeves, VP of SAA.

S.A.A. is a non-profit organization that does various fundraisers to send the members to different places to do charity. “One of our fundraisers is auctioning off an SUV, so we can go to D.C. to help with victims of STDs,” commented Jeeves, during a phone interview she used with her phone purchased from MCI.

So far, the growth has been slow, due to the irony of the situation. “If they would change their name or their cause, maybe people would take them more seriously,” said Webster, who has filled out an application for membership to humor herself.

A new enticement just added to lure members is a TGIF sleepover. It’s unsure if this will do the trick.

The post New Organization Raises Eyebrows appeared first on Just Laugh.

Every now and then a new idea will manifest itself into my brain and a new dish will be introduced. Sometimes I receive a smile. Sometimes I receive a grimace. It depends on the dish.

Another feat I have accomplished is baking bread. This has received much praise. Let’s face it, fresh made bread with butter and strawberry jam is the greatest comfort food in the history of the world. But here’s the harsh reality: If I keep on baking bread, which takes about three to four hours per day, it will cease to become a joyful event. However, my family will expect it thus entrenching myself even more deeply into the role of a kitchen slave.

There are rules to follow and signs to look out for.

Anything that takes more than an hour to cook is a dangerous task to take on.

Living in the south does have its food advantages. My fried chicken and mashed potatoes makes Colonel Sanders look like a turkey. But I have eaten my own chicken for a long time and it is starting to get on my nerves.

I have fantasies of coming home from work and Richard having a scrumptious meal prepared. Something I haven’t eaten before that won’t make me puke would be preferable. I picture a beautiful tablecloth with a banquet of the most succulent food placed upon it and candles lit as Richard serves dinner and doesn’t speak for the entire evening.

As I said, this is a fantasy. To actually have this fantasy become a reality would take about thirty years of husband training. When do I have room to accomplish this when I am cooking all of the time? And plus, as it stands, Richard’s idea of a guy’s night out playing cards equates a one man solo act in front of the computer playing solitaire. I have more important issues to contend with besides his culinary skills!

On the other hand, I’ll watch a particular episode of ‘Little House on the Prairie’ where the mother and children only receive a penny, an apple and a few potatoes for Christmas and are extremely grateful for their gifts. This makes me feel like the most spoiled woman in America.

So, it’s roast beef and carrots tonight, dear. And tomorrow night, either spaghetti or fried chicken with mashed potatoes. I would try to prepare duck with orange sauce but it’s against the law to make such things in the south.

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