Takes more than a listing of blonde jokes to get me all fired up, Mr. Slickster. We’ve been friends for too long, and I mean that in a good sense. I’ll even contribute one about the fair-haired, mentally challenged Annie McCoy, whose car was caught in a hailstorm that left small dents all over in the aftermath.
Annie took the auto to the mechanics at the shop next door to the schoolhouse. They are a bunch of goofballs, always trying to set someone up for a good laugh, telling the dimwitted blonde to blow on the tailpipe when she gets home, but to wait until it cools off. The dents should pop back out.
In good faith, the woman waited for a spell upon returning to her trailer, after which she got down on her knees, bending over to wrap her lips around the exhaust pipe.
Her neighbor, another blonde, came running outside evidently from spying through her kitchen window.
“What in tarnation are you doing?”
“Going to get rid of all these little dents, but it’s not working.”
“Of course that’s not going to work. You need to close all your windows tight. The driver’s side is open quite a bit.”
*Insert rimshot here.
Happy New Year belated. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about the problems in the Middle East and the worldly debate about terrorism and the volatile situations prevalent throughout the entire region.
I’ve come up with a solution for the problem, which I will outline as follows:
Take all American women who are within five years of menopause, train us for a few weeks, outfit everyone with automatic weapons, grenades, gas masks, moisturizer with SPF15, Prozac, hormones, chocolate, and canned tuna; and drop us (parachuted preferably) across the landscape of intense violence and let us do what comes naturally.
Think about it: our anger quotient alone, even when doing standard stuff like grocery shopping and paying bills, is formidable enough to make even armed men tremble.
We’ve had our children. We would gladly suffer or die to protect them and their future. We’d like to get away from our husbands, if they haven’t left already.
For those of us who are single, the prospect of finding a good man with whom to share life is about as likely as being struck by lightning. We have nothing to lose.
We’ve survived the water diet, the protein diet, the carbohydrate diet, and the grapefruit diet; worked out in gyms, sweated in saunas across America, and never lost a pound. We can survive months easily in the hostile terrain of the Middle East with no food at all!
Tracking is our specialty, after many years of experience in finding our husbands or lovers in bars, hardware stores, or sporting events. Locating these terrorists and mongrels would be a snap.
You think we can’t unite all the warring factions to live together in peace? Oh, please…, we’ve planned the seating arrangements for in-laws and extended families at Thanksgiving and holiday dinners for years. We understand tribal warfare.
Between us, we’ve divorced enough husbands to know every trick there is for how they hide, launder, or cover up bank accounts and money sources. We know how to find that money, and we know how to seize it, with or without the government’s help!
So let us go and fight. Imagine their terror as we crawl like ants with hot flashes over their godforsaken terrain.
That’s my opinion. What’s yours? I hope your new year is filled with fun, sun and new adventures.