Our blog buddy, Mal, emailed me this and we thought it was cute enough to share it with you. I think it’s all pretty funny but what made me laugh was the reaction of the guy behind the lady! I wish I was right there with him! We need a good blog laugh at least once a week, right? Well, here it is!:
Yesterday I was at Costco buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my
loyal pet, Necco, the Wonder Dog, which weighs 191 lbs. I was in the
check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had, an elephant?
So because I’m retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her
that no, I didn’t have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I
added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in the hospital
last time, but that I’d lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an
intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and
IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a Perfect Diet and that the way
that it works is, to load your jacket pockets with Purina Nuggets and
simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is
nutritionally complete so it works well, and I was going to try it
again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was
now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care, because the dog
food poisoned me. I told her no, I stopped to pee on a fire hydrant
and a car hit me.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was
laughing so hard.
Costco won’t let me shop there anymore. Better watch what you ask
retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of crazy
things to say. Forward this (especially) to all your retired
friends…it will be their laugh for the day.
I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING!
have a great day,
Z
geeez2014
GeeeZ .... 
That’s funny.
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I’ve heard it before, but it is still funny!
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LOL
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The way I heard it was he was run over by a car because he was sitting in the middle of the street licking himself. I guess somebody cleaned it up.
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I laughed so hard I set off the burglar alarm! (Not really, but I scared the heck out of my cat.)
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Bob, grateful that they did clean it up!
Glad you all liked it, too! Good to laugh on the first of a month…before the truly dreadful politics settles in again. Oh, wait…it never goes away, does it!
Great conversation continuing on the post below this…help yourselves!
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Good one! I call my two cats as “the girls”. My cousin was with me as we were standing in line checking out. She asked me, So how old are your girls now? I said just turned four Then she said, do you have to go home first to feed them or can you come straight to my place for the night. I said I didn’t have to go home. I left some food out for the girls and that will hold them until tomorrow. The line started to buzz and I thought for sure someone would call the police!.
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Geez, Bunker! I’m surprised CPS didn’t take your cats away from you.
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Over the years I’ve had some truly entertaining visits to the Navy Commissary. While Mother was still alive, I wrote vignettes and embellished stories to her about my various episodes (I was an only kid).
I truly enjoy puttin nouns and verbs through close-order drill, then changin the record to some hot swing and makin ’em jitterbug, then slow it down to a nice classic waltz. Anyway, here’s an example of one of my episodes in a checkout line:
Decided I oughta walk over to the Commissary and load up on popcorn, trail mix, and Diet Pepsi. Standin in the speed line (no more than 12 items) behind some damaged little woman who apparently was writing her last will and testament on her check, I noticed the bagger. He was a really dippy-lookin kid with some kinda spiked hair and wearin a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt with Nikes that I couldn’t afford unless I won the lottery.
Commissary baggers work for tips only, of course, and they keep an open box salted with dollar bills and quarters at the end of the counter as a prompt for shoppers to not forget to lay some really heavy monetary reward on them for stuffin 12 or fewer things into a plastic bag. Well, I noticed that in addition to the hi-priced shoes and t-shirt, he had . . . now get this . . . 2 gold hoop earrings in each lobe, a gold bracelet on his right wrist, a heavy-looking watch on his left wrist, at least 3 rings on his hands, and a very thick gold herringbone-weave necklace with a huge gold Playboy rabbit as the pendant.
Hmmmph! So I borrowed a pen from the cashier and wrote him a note on the back of my throwout ticket from the gas station where I’d bought some oil and a filter for my Camaro. I made a show of carefully placing it in the “TIPS” box as I took my stuff and left. Here’s what it reads:
Tip: When expecting retirees to reward your pitiful, superfluous efforts with cash, don’t wear $1000 dollars worth of jewelry, $100 sneakers, and $50 t-shirts.
You’re welcome —- and same to you.
Now, I have no doubt what this kid wants to be when he grows up — a garbage collector. Surely he’s watched them pick up the stuff from his house in their automated truck, and as far as he can see, they work only on Monday.
I can just see this kid in school. A hall monitor or somebody reprimands him for being in the hall, when he shouldn’t be. “Do you mind telling me whose class you’re cutting this time?”
“Like,” he’ll probably reply, “uh, see, okay, like it’s like I really don’t, like, think like that’s really important, y’know, like cause I’m, y’know, like, I don’t get anything out of it.”
“Oh, English class,” will be the natural assumption.
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Off topic, but if ya wanna feel good, take a listen to this:
Can’t call myself a good, practicing Christian (although I was baptized as one), but I gotta say that any belief system that can bring such joy, such energy, such spirit to a well-behaved crowd can’t be all bad.
And Handel’s “Messiah” ain’t too shabby, neither, for makin things rumble and resonate down in your innards.
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Bocopro, my girl cat had surgery years ago and I dropped her off and then went to work, where I told a colleague “My little girl’s in surgery right now!” And you should have seen the face of another colleague who didn’t know that was Musetta! SHOCKING..a MOTHER not there with her child during surgery!? 🙂
Bocopro; love your very encouraging note to the bedecked kid!
Not a fan of this conductor’s music but will now listen to a bit….wish me luck. I’ll be right back!!
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OH, GAD~! NOT MY CUP OF TEA ….I hated it 🙂 (really hated it)
I was going to link this for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JVhbusBDi4
Then I heard the girls in your video break out into the more modern one and thought “I don’t have to now” but I hated that, too!
Also, when foreigners sing English with such an accent, it’s hard for me to listen….I don’t know why, I’ve been around foreigners with accents my WHOLE LIFE (including my husband’s)…
As the French say “Chacun a son gout!” And, by the way, what I like about Rieu’s music is it’s clean and entertaining and the crowds are thrilled. It’s just not me who’s thrilled!
Here’s a ‘religious song’ I LOVE:
Now THAT’s a religious rendition I can get behind ….I know; you hate it 🙂
Chacun a son gout.
But, thanks 🙂
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What gets to me most in the religiously inspired flashmob music clips is the crowd reaction. Very enjoyable to watch them singing along with “Messiah” or “Ode to Joy” or “Adeste Fideles,” regardless of language or accent. I doubt very much if my Latin sounds like a 1st century Roman’s.
Something very primal about it all, fulfilling, moving . . . transports me back to when I was a kid singing “Ave Maria” in soprano . . . makes me wanna join in with my aged voice ravaged by years of smoking . . . but most importantly, makes me feel better for the experience.
So there!
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Bocopro…I LOVE that stuff, too….there’s one flash mob that sings an American patriotic song and it’s almost unbearably sweet to watch mainly because it starts with a school choir….
I love the melodies you mention here….but when I hear singers like Pavarotti and other mostly Italians sing English, it just makes me giggle. “Maria….I jost mate a gull named Maria…” Oy!!
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Bocopro; I guess you hated Leon, huh? 🙂 I hope not
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Maybe it’s a guy thing. I thought it was a cute story. Mr. B almost died laughing.
Bocopro, I liked it. Not little Peggy March, but liked it.
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Not that I hate Leon . . . more that I’d like to buy him some time with a speech coach.
And the guy who did the sound mixing on that track needs to be spanked . . . vigorously . . . often . . . publicly.
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