But the problem is, my appetite for fast food is enormous. I can’t help it. I’d like to eat healthy, I try to eat healthy, but it’s just so easy to implement an ordering system that consists of just numbers, like a number one or something.

I love Long John Silver’s. However, I hate the drive thru there. So now I have a dilemma. I can either get out of my car and go in, or I can risk using the drive thru. Of course I choose the latter. How can I not? It’s right there.

The last two times I drove thru, I noticed the sign in big letters. CONDIMENTS UPON REQUEST. Okay, I just have to remember to tell them at the window that I want tartar sauce and ketchup. The last two occasions though, this is not necessary.

As I finish ordering, the drive thru operator asks, “Would you like some tartar sauce, shrimp sauce or ketchup?” I reply yes, to all three. Since this question is asked to me on both occasions, I figure I don’t need to bother telling them at the window that I would like condiments. So I don’t.

When my order arrives, I drive home. Unbeknownst to me, when I check my order, there is no tartar sauce, no shrimp sauce and no ketchup. This happened both times.

The second time I’m upset. The first time, yeah that was an honest mistake. But this time, no. I eat my meal with no sauce. It was very dry.

After the meal, I write a letter to the corporate office displaying my displeasure with this certain franchise. I tell them the basics, I’m never eating there again, they’re unprofessional, I’m going to go out and sleep with the manager’s wife, you know the basics.

After about two weeks, I receive a letter in the mail from the corporate headquarters. Enclosed in the envelope is a standard form letter with a stamped signature. It reads, “Dear Friend, we are sorry for your bad experience at one of our establishments. Here at LJS, we strive to be the very best. We would like to thank you for bringing this matter to our attention, so we may be able to improve ourself so this won’t happen in the future. As a token of our appreciation for being a dedicated customer, we have enclosed gift certificates that may be used at any of our many LJS locations.

Sincerely, (and then a stamped signature of a person who may or may not exist).” This letter seemed to calm my feelings about Long John Silver’s. I grab the envelope to collect my free meals, and wouldn’t you believe it, they forgot to include the certificates.

I’m thinking about writing another letter, but I don’t know where to send it.

Another time I find myself out is when something breaks electronically. Electronic manufactures seem to know the exact moment when their equipment breaks. The moment adopted in the industry is the day after your warranty expires.

Just the other day the knob fell off my home stereo unit. It lived a great life. But one day, the knob just fell off.

I looked in the yellow pages for the one place that might have the piece I was looking for, and Radio Shack came into view. “Radio Shack,” I told myself. They have every little accessory known to man.

I bring my little knob to Radio Shack and the clerk is eager to help me. I hold up my knob and say, “I need one of these.”

“We don’t have one of those, but we have one of these,” he replies.

What I’ve noticed is Radio Shack has a bunch of stuff nobody needs. Some of it is even unidentifiable.

“I don’t need one of those, I need one of these,” I return.

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“This,” I say.

“I’ll have to call another store.” This is their defense for everything. “I’ll have to call another store.” So I wait, listening in on his conversation.

“Hi, it’s Steve from store 12, do you have one of these things?” Silence. “Oh you don’t? Thanks for checking. I’ll just sell him something we have in the store.”

This information disappoints me because I always end up buying an adapter for equipment I didn’t even know existed. In my apartment you’ll find so many adapters and gadgets, I might as well put a sign up outside that reads, ‘Radio Shack.’ This, I believe, is how so many Radio Shack stores appear in neighborhoods across the country.

The post I Hate Going Out to Stores appeared first on Just Laugh.

One shopper explains, “Man, I mean, I could really use some new underwear, but I just don’t know. It’s going to be crazy out there! Don’t get me wrong, I like chicks and all, but any idiot knows that trying to horn in on their shopping crave is just a recipe for trouble…” The man continued by requesting to borrow a pair of this reporter’s boxers, but was promptly refused.

“I know what you mean, man!” replied an innocent bystander. “I was thinking about picking up a new drill this weekend, but even Home Depot’s parking lot is packed – where are all these skirts coming from?! I really wanted that drill, too, but it’s just not worth it, man…”

It is estimated that approximately ten trillion women will be hitting the streets this weekend to ‘whoop it up’ and spend gobs of their husbands’ money, so the recommendation being sent to the men of our society would be to gather the boys, tell them each to bring a case of beer, and promptly get to work – you really don’t want to be conscious when she finally returns home and those credit card receipts come out…

The post “It’s going to be crazy out there!” local man reports… appeared first on Just Laugh.

The post Deep Fried, Live! – Episode Six: Curse of the Pumpkin Queen appeared first on Just Laugh.

The post Dr. Lobster – Even Robots Get Tired appeared first on Just Laugh.

We do it because we love to write.

That, and because we harbor a secret dream that a Hollywood producer will make a blockbuster movie from our “How the Dog Ate the Thanksgiving Turkey” column.

Since we love to write, we need our own holiday. So, thanks to Delaware writer John Riddle, November 15th, 2002 is the very first “I Love to Write Day.” Although for some writers, it’s also “Good Thing I Still Have My Day Job Day.”

Riddle started I Love To Write Day at — where else? — www.ilovetowrite.com, so “people of all ages will discover the joy that comes from writing.” Having discovered that joy years ago, I’m now waiting to discover the joy that comes from making money at it.

Riddle believes ILTWD (as I now call it because I’m too lazy to write it out) could start a person down the road to writing. “(It) has the potential to launch the career of the next John Grisham, Mary Higgins Clark, Stephen King, or Toni Morrison.”

Personally I wouldn’t want to be the next Mary Higgins Clark. It would be extremely hard to explain to my wife and children, and family reunions would be awkward.

Riddle says he got the idea while driving to a writers’ conference. On the other hand, I’ve driven hundreds of thousands of miles, and have never been struck with anything so noble as creating an entire holiday. Instead I argue with myself over which is cooler: to be able to fly or turn invisible.

But ILTWD is for all writers, whether you write technical manuals, short stories, or hate-filled graffiti on your boss’ car. But, there’s a special day reserved just for columnists.

Unfortunately, National Columnists Day has an identity crisis: it’s observed on two different days, April 18th and “every fourth Tuesday in June.” But secondly, and more importantly, “Columnists” may or may not have an apostrophe.

And since no one can agree on a date, I’m doing what any good columnist should: writing about it in November.

This conflict has caused some serious hand-wringing among columnists, though no one seems to care about the apostrophe. And although no one will say it, I believe this debate is responsible for many of society’s problems, including the Martha Stewart scandal.

The National Society of Newspaper Columnists (to which I used to belong) observes the April 18th event. Dave Lieber, secretary of the NSNC and Fort Worth Star-Telegram columnist, and Bill Tammeus of the Kansas City Star co-created the holiday. Since they wanted to commemorate columnist Ernie Pyle, who died during World War II on April 18th, 1945, the NSNC passed a resolution declaring April 18th, 1995 the first National Columnists Day. WITHOUT the apostrophe.

But in 1988, Gloucester County (New Jersey) Times columnist Jim Six created his own National Columnists’ Day “as an attempt to be humorous.” He declared every fourth Tuesday in June was National Columnists’ Day. WITH the apostrophe.

In an email interview, Lieber told me, “…I applaud Jim Six for coming up with National Columnists Day in the great tradition of a columnist — he was desperate for a subject to write about that day.” But Lieber holds true to the NSNC’s higher purpose: “We chose the day to remember (Pyle) with the hope that some of his gallantry would rub off on us. For that reason, we hold firm to the idea that National Columnists Day is April 18.”

Six says he started his holiday by asking several syndicated columnists to send a special greeting (Dave Barry sent a postcard). In 1989, at Six’s request, New Jersey Governor Tom Kean issued an official proclamation declaring the fourth Tuesday of June 1989 (and every June thereafter) National Columnists’ Day — six years before the NSNC’s.

And there’s the problem. On one hand, a large international organization says National Columnists Day is on April 18th, and chose the date for purely noble and selfless reasons.

On the other hand, a single writer started the holiday as a joke seven years earlier, and got New Jersey’s Governor to issue a proclamation and Dave Barry to send a postcard.

Obviously both arguments have merit, but neither side will give up their holiday, so what’s a humor writer to do?

I could stay out of it and not take sides. I could celebrate twice by reprinting the same column on both days.

Or I could just write a column about it to stir up trouble and declare November 19th “Ha Ha You Don’t Know Where I Live Day.”

The post I Love to Create Mischief Day appeared first on Just Laugh.

“People think the post office lost the invitations, but that’s not the case,” said Hank Goober, Allen’s best man.

The truth behind the postponement stems even further. Idenka Kaneefneef, Allen’s would be mail order bride, found her way in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Apparently, the post office rerouted the package when it realized the size of it was too big for the Dexter center to handle.

“It’s not a classic case of getting lost in the mail; rather we needed to complete the transaction in a different manner,” commented Scott Tymes, a spokesperson for the USPS.

Friends of the disappointed groom believe otherwise. “We think one of the Dexter postal employees really wants Idenka for himself,” said Lydia Rodan, Allen’s sister.

Idenka is a beautiful woman who is anxious to become a citizen. She has intentions to stay with Allen for two months before leaving him, the average length of a mail order wedding, according to the company that supplied the bride.

Allen has agreed to go on with the wedding, since refunds are not allowed.

The post Post Office Blamed for Delayed Wedding appeared first on Just Laugh.

Well, now comes the latest grant financed research data from the University of Richmond, and it’s a doozy. According to scientists, motherhood may actually make women smarter!

May I hear a collective “DUH” from all the moms out there?

It’s true. After studying rats for prolonged periods of time, they have ascertained that the ones who have a lovelife, get pregnant and give birth have better memory retention and are more nurturing to younger rats. The mother rats are far more likely to protect their offspring than are “babysitter” rats who have never given birth. They also believe that the “hormonal wash” the rats’ brains go though while pregnant make them far less susceptible to developing the symptoms of Alzheimer’s. So to paraphrase Forrest Gump, I guess “Stupid is, as stupid doesnot“, which in this case is does not procreate.

Where was I when they were handing out the grant money for this one?

I mean for a couple hundred thousand dollars, I would have been happy to chart my existence from singledom to motherhood for them. And I would not need to waste money on mazes and cheese either.

Let’s just start with their first nugget of data: Mothers are more nurturing. Before I became pregnant, children were cute, sometimes bothersome, whiny little people. I used to babysit them all the time insuring they did not burn down their houses or kill each other. That’s about all the nurturing $5 an hour will get you. Then I got married, got pregnant and gave birth to my own baby. Those three words are very important because they make it personal. I made these people and there is nothing I would not do to protect them or insure their happiness and safety. Like a mother bear, I would defend them with my life. That is not called hormones, research or genetic alterations. That is called LOVE.

Next, Mothers have better memory retention. We’d better. Someone has to know where Johnny and Janie’s homework, spelling list, fundraiser sheets and permission slips are. Someone has to keep track of their doctor appointments, allergies, likes/dislikes, activities. And only a mother knows the answer to any question beginning with “Have you seen my…” or “Do you know where my…”. Again, this is self preservation, not a hormone bath to the brain.

Finally, the part about being less susceptible to Alzheimer’s symptoms. I totally believe this is true for one reason only. If the years of raising children from babies to teens into adulthood has not driven her crazy, she is surely not as likely to be taken down by a little brain plaque.

I do, however, believe that all men – fathers or not – suffer from Alzheimer’s their entire lives. “Honey where is my…?” “Today is our anniversary?!?” “What was I supposed to pick up at the store?” “You never said your mother was coming to visit.” Then again, maybe it should be called Sometimer’s, since they are able to remember decades old sports scores, their college roommate’s favorite beer and the measurements of all of Charlie’s original Angels. But I digress. . .

My point is simple, of course we are smarter. Only those with a highly enlightened intellect would go into this business to begin with. It takes brains, know-how, stick-to-ittiveness, creativity and stamina to get through this maze of life called motherhood.

I’m suddenly craving some cheese.

The post Stupid Is As Stupid Does Not appeared first on Just Laugh.

I thought I could dance pretty well until my sister told me never to dance the way I dance in a club. Why? I would be kicked out.

Sigh.

The club scene isn’t my idea of a great time. Just thinking about watching all of the young people dance makes me want to take a nap. I’d rather dance at home. Where real people cannot see and my imaginary fans adore every move I make.

I always did have a great imagination.

I’ve gone from looking great to looking good enough, from being a woman full of energy and vitality to being a woman who can ‘conjure up enough to get by’ and from feeling sexy to feeling awake. On rare occasions.

‘Sex in the City’ has turned into ‘Nap in the Town’ and George Carlin is looking a bit like George Burns these days.

What’s a girl, um, woman, um, female, um…what the hell am I?

Argh!

What do people my age do these days? I have nightmares of all of us getting together to discuss droopy boobs and nasal hair. It’s frightening! I don’t feel sexy, anymore. All I have to do is look at my sister and know I’m way out of my league. When will the mid-life crowd be the in crowd? I don’t believe we have ever seen the middle-aged crowd rule, children and older people rule. Middle-aged people work to keep the younger and older generations off of our backs.

Where’s the justice in that?

Just as in our youth, being middle-aged means we know where we are going but we have to have patience to actually get there. Being middle-aged means we have to understand life is a journey and it takes a whole lifetime, whether it is short or long, to arrive.

This sucks!

I want to pout. I want to stomp around and pitch a fit! But I can’t. I’m a grown-up now and have to pay my dues. I’m just not sure which bill is due and what amount to pay up. When God decided not to walk among mere mortals anymore, did God realize how frustrating it would be?

Or, has God been here all along, in you and in me, and I’ve been too faithless to realize it?

Perhaps the answer is somewhere in the transient.

Then, again, maybe I think too much.

The post The Secondary Misfit Association appeared first on Just Laugh.

It’s a common fact that the next thirty days are going to be the largest shopping days of the year, which means that if you’re a guy, I sure hope that you stocked up on the essentials (beer, nachos and toilet paper…) ahead of time because you’d have to be out of your mind to head out into the storm before Hurricane Charge-It has a chance to dissipate over the next two months or so. On the other hand, the women of our species will, on average, be spending approximately 92% of their waking hours over the next several weeks in various department stores, shopping malls and outlet centers in search of the greatest deals on the planet, some of them even taking their own money on occasion! (ok, not really!) You would think after investing all of this time and energy, only the finest gadgets and doo-dads would end up under our trees and in our stockings, but that’s not exactly what happens, is it?

Nope! Instead we end up getting scratchy wool sweaters and more pairs of socks than anyone could ever possibly wear and wall-mounted, singing fish…although I’m not completely against the singing fish! I once thought that people did their holiday shopping based on what they’d like to receive for themselves, but I honestly don’t see how anyone could pick-up the baseball hat with the 3-D duck that sticks out of it and occasional quacks at passer-bys that I got last year and think, “Yes, this is it! He’s going to absolutely love this, and even if he doesn’t, he can always give it to me!” Granted, I understand that it’s tough to avoid some of the hideous clothing because your relatives make it themselves and simply have bad taste, such as in my Aunt Mabel’s case, who is still convinced that I consistently wear the sweatshirt with the bright pink embroidered unicorn on it that she gave me six years ago. Funny how it’s always in the dirty clothes hamper when she stops by because “I just wore it yesterday, actually…” isn’t it?

We even try to make it as easy as possible for them, making lists and casually dropping sale fliers where they’ll find them during breakfast, but nine times out of ten there’s a huge deal for thong underwear or something on the same page and it ends up just confusing them even further, and don’t think that circlingyour selections or doing something crazy like that will help because I’ve tried that, too! It seems like anything short of going to the store with them puts us right in the express line to Crapsville, and even that’s not worth risking your life for the way things have been going out there lately. I’ve read stories of people getting trampled, elderly ladies getting knocked down flights of stairs, and that’s even before they get out of the house! It would be a safe guess that the only way to get what you really want this holiday season would be to schedule in a stop at the hospital in advance, but luckily for all of us, there’s still one last hope – the gift receipt.

Just a small slip of paper, nearly identical to any other receipt one might receive while shopping, except for one minor alteration – the gift receipt has “If you really think my gift sucks, and you probably will, then go ahead and return it here for something you might actually want…” written in big, red letters across the top. Ok, it actually is mostly likely just missing a price or something, but it might as well say this, too, and I don’t think that it’s such a bad thing because it means that the person is at least a little considerate about your own needs! It’s more of a reality-call than anything else because they realize that their gift-giving abilities are severely lacking, and they’ve always got the good old“It’s the thought that counts…” BS-line to fall back on, but at the same time they’re being realistic because they realize that you don’t need another food dehydrator or pasta maker – you don’t even cook! In fact, as far as I’m concerned, the cashiers shouldn’t even give you the option of taking a gift receipt when you’re checking out – they should be distributed automatically during the holidays, no matter if you’re just purchasing a couple CDs or an Ab-Tronic fitness system. There’s really no harm in giving the things out, and you’re even doing a public service to those few who think they still do have good taste…and are buying their fifteen-year-old grandson the latest Hanson album to prove it…

Holiday gift-giving can be a arduous task and very few of us can make it through without at least one major breakdown along the way…ever wonder why you’re seeing more and more pubs located inside shopping malls lately? Nevertheless, it gets us all presents, even if it is in a roundabout way, and I can hardly argue with that! Besides, I guess it wouldn’t really be Christmas if we didn’t get to go back to the office the next day and brag to see who got the most ridiculous gifts this year, followed in masses by the ceremonial returning to the original zone of misconceived intentions to choose a more worthwhile gift, or at least something without an embroidered animal on it. Hear that, friends and family?! This year, let’s just think calm, rational, cool thoughts, stay away from the embroidered farm animals, or better yet – let’s just stay out of the clothing section in general, and we’ll get through this thing just fine…

The post Just Smile and Say Thank-You, and Don’t Let That Gift Receipt Out of Your Sight… appeared first on Just Laugh.