My Bill Murray Groundhog Day Kiss

I’m not usually a lucky person. The slot machines I play are sure to be clinkety-clank-less, the numbers on my raffle tickets go unannounced, and, truth be told, I’ve never even had an opportunity to shout the word “Bingo” . . . unless, of course, it was his name-o.

So when I got kissed by Bill Murray at the AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-am Golf Tournament, they had to call the fire department to get me down from Cloud 9.

“No, you idiot, that’s Cloud 8!”

The whole thing would have never happened had I not stepped on the toes of a good-natured, somewhat tipsy Englishman while trying to get a glimpse of Clint Eastwood at the fifth hole at Spyglass -; breaking the ice between the Englishman and I, while simultaneously breaking most of his toes.

Not the exact Englishman  but gawdawful like him.

Clint proceeded to hit a ball that landed squarely on the green. Now, for secretive, humorous reasons known only to the British, this sent my new Broken Toed Buddy into a fit of laughter and ear-splitting wise-crack-ery; the likes of which can only be achieved after enjoying a hearty three-martini breakfast.

Take a Mulligan, Clint!” The English One advised and began to chant. “Mulli! Mulli! Mulli!” Finally, Clint turned to him and assuming his famous Dirty Harry persona (at least that’s what I assumed he was assuming) replied“Yeah, OK,” a comment to which the gallery responded with an explosion of laughter so uproarious, I was left to conclude that everybody there was British.

Then . . . suddenly . . . like a Cinderella story out of nowhere – weaving his way through the throngs to the tee—appeared The Great and Powerfully Funny, Bill Murray, Himself.

Bill Murray signing autographs at the AT&T Pro Am Pebble Golf Tournment
The Great and Powerfully Funny Bill Murray, Himself!

“Look! It’s Bill Murray!” I observed with all the subtlety of Lucy Ricardo spotting William Holden at the Brown Derby. My English Buddy didn’t miss a beat. “Hey Bill!” He screamed over the crowd. “This lady would like a kiss!”

Bill Murray responded by slowly turning around like he was Moe Fine hearing the dreaded phrase “Niagara Falls!” As he headed my way, the crowd was giddy with anticipation. I know it’s weird and maybe I’ve been watching too much I Love Lucy but what was running through my head at that exact moment was, “Wait until Ethel hears about this!”

Then, Bill Murray positioned himself in front of me and politely waited for the crowd to get their cameras ready and when the time was right . . .

Getting a kiss from Bill Murray
BINGO!

. . . suddenly the AT&T golf tournament faded away, and it was just me and my lips and Bill Murray kissing me . . . with his lips. I don’t know how long we kissed. It could have been an instant or it could have been an hour or possibly four or five hours (but I doubt it) that I was suspended in the bliss of Bill Murray’s kiss.

On the drive home, I suddenly realized it was February 2nd which meant – that’s right – I got kissed by Bill Murray on Groundhog day. And in the immortal the words of Carl the Greens keeper — after he was granted total consciousness on his deathbed by the Dali Lama –I thought:

So I got that going for me . . . which is nice.”

Bill Murray as Carl the Greens Keeper

Until next time . . . I love you (and that goes double for Bill Murray)

Smart Party Talk from 1937

Welcome Dear Readers.  I found this picture in a 1937 cookbook which was just begging for some dialogue using slang from the 30’s.

So here goes:

 

picture of a party from 1937

Hey this party’s ring-a-ding-ding, don’t you think so, dollface?

It’s alright I suppose.

Suppose I say you’re a looker with a swell pair of get-away-sticks.

Suppose I say that’s the smoothest line of monkey talk I’ve heard all evening.

Suppose I say we blow this wingding and stop at a speako for a bottle of beer.

Suppose I say you’ve had one too many snoutfuls if you think I’d fall for a chisel like that.

Suppose I say let’s stop by my place, I’ll peel off this tuxedo, and we’ll roll a few lines at the bowling alley.

Suppose I say where did you learn to sweet talk,  from a correspondence course?

Suppose I say I wonder if you’re giving me the kibosh?

Suppose I say I’ll let you know after I finish this glass of giggle.

Suppose I say I’m going to park a honey cooler on those lips 0f yours?

Suppose I say try it and I’ll ram this gobble-pipe up your schnozzle!

Suppose I say remind me never to get dizzy with a dame who is holding a saxophone.

Suppose I say that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all  night.  Hey, I had you pegged all wrong, maybe you’re not a flopperoo after all.

Hey listen, muffin, let’s get another glass of rot gut, put on a keen platter and jolly up!

Murder! Now you’re talkin’ mister!

 

Until next time . . .  I love you

An Ode to the Chemicals in Herbal Essence Hairspray

An Ode to the Chemicals in Herbal Essence Hairspray

ode to the Chemicals in Herbal Essence Hairspray

 Dimethyl Ether Alcohol

Rolling off the tongue, you do enthrall

Plus, you keep my hair in place and all

If I had your name?  I’d have a ball!

Amino Methyl Propanol

My follicles will never fall

My hair it stands up straight and tall

Thanks Amino Methyl Propanol!

Triacetate Ammonium

My hair’s tough . . .  like linoleum

You’re better than petroleum

Now come here and take the podium!

Glycereth-7 Acetate

Do I need to tell you that you’re great?

My hair conforms to your mandate

(Perhaps you are my hair’s soul mate)

Cyclopentasiloxane!

You’re name’s so long it’s quite insane!

But you’ve got my hair on a ball and chain

Your the next best thing since urethane

VA/Crotonates Vinyl

I think you gave my hair a spinal?

Either that or it’s suicidal

Whatever the case, your say is final

PEG-8 Dimethicone

My hair’s addicted to you alone

And wondering if you’d give a loan

Cause it needs to buy some methadone

 

 

Until next time . . . I love you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gregory’s Bible Stories: The Barbecued Goat Caper

Welcome, Dear Readers, to this Sunday’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories.

Every Sunday Gregory attends Sunday school and every Sunday he comes home and retells what he learned.  

Today Gregory learned about how Jonathan and his trusty sidekick got the best of a bunch of Philistines in 1 Samuel 14.

Linda Vernon Humor, the bible according to gregory, humorous bible stories

 

 

Jonathan and the Barbecued Goat Caper

One day King Saul’s son, Jonathan, was walking around the holy land with his sidekick, Young Man, whose sole job it was to carry Jonathan’s weapons — when Jonathan got the idea to crash the camp of some heathen Philistines.

Jonathan:  Mm . . . do you smell what I smell?

Young Man Whose Sole Job It Was To Carry Jonathan’s Weapons:  Yeah smells like some heathen Philistines are barbecuing some delicious goat!

Jonathan:  Exactamento! I really want to go over there.

YMWSJIWTCJW:  Yes but to get over there we will have to cross a pass that has two huge jagged rocks . . .

Jonathan:  Jagged schmagged.  Maybe the Lord will help us.

YMWSJIWTCJW: Okie doke.  Whatever you want to do, Jonny.

Jonathan: All right, then,  we’re going to crawl between the jagged rocks and if the Philistines tell us to wait then we will; but if they tell us to come it will mean the Lord has given us victory over them.

YMWSJIWTCJW: How do know these things?

Jonathan:  I dunno.

When the heathen Philistines saw Jonathan and his sidekick, YMWSJIWTCJW, crawling through the rocks they said in unison, “Look some Hebrews are coming out of the holes they have been hiding in!  Come on up here, we have something to tell you!”

Jonathan:  Did you hear that, YMWSJIWTCJW?  They have something to tell us. That means the lord has given Israel victory over them.

YMWSJIWTCJW:  Oh . .

Jonathan:  What wrong?  You sound disappointed.

YMWSJIWTCJW: I was kinda hoping it meant they saved us some barbecued goat.

Jonathan:  Don’t you ever think of anything but your stomach?

YMWSJIWTCJW:  Let me put it this way.  Are you going to eat the rest of your fig?

Jonathan:  Sigh . . go for it.

YMWSJIWTCJW: Thanks!  You want I should kill the Philistines now?

Jonathan:  Uh . . . let me knock them down first.

YMWSJIWTCJW: Okie doke.  Whatever you want to do, Jonny.

And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday school.  Please check back next week to find out what Gregory will learn next!

Until next time . . . I love you

Jonathan's Daring Deed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gregory’s Bible Stories: The Murmuring Mumblers

Welcome, Dear Readers, to this Sunday’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories.  Every Sunday Gregory attends Sunday school and every Sunday he comes home and retells what he learned.  Let’s listen in, shall we?

Gregory of the Bible According to Gregory Linda Vernon Humor Moses and the Murmuring Mumblers

One day, while Moses was cleaning out his closet, throwing out robes he hadn’t worn for over a year (because the same rules applied for closet cleaning in biblical days as they do today), there was a knock on the door of his tent. Of course Moses didn’t hear it, for knocking on doors made out of cloth was a rather futile endeavor even back in  biblical times.

But Mose’s wife had excellent hearing and yelled to Moses that someone was at the door  and would he mind answering it as she was in the Bathshebaroom. So Moses answered the door but it wasn’t the Lord, it was a spy the Lord had sent to go to the land of Canaan to bring back some fruit and to find out if the people there were going to be hard or easy to slaughter on a scale of one to ten, one being cinchy and ten being No Way Jose!

The conversation might have gone something like this:

Moses:  So are the people in Canaan  going to be hard to slaughter or easy?

Spy:    Icksnay on the easy-ay

Moses:  Uh is that a yes or a no . . . my Pig Latin’s a little rusty, sorry.

Spy:  Let’s put it this way, everybody there was at least 40 cubits tall.

Moses:    I’m terrible with weights and measures, sorry . . .

Spy:  Well you know how big a grasshopper is compared to us?

Moses:   That depends . . . is a grasshopper the same as a locust?

Spy:  Well, I’ve got a grasshopper in my pocket,  see how big he is?

Moses: Oh my gosh!

Spy:  Yeah, well  that’s how big we are compared to the people we are supposed to slaughter.

Moses:  Uh oh . . .

Spy:  Suffice it to say, Moses, that these people are a lot bigger and stronger than we are.

Moses:  Oy!  And what does suffice mean again?

Spy:  It means they are going to whoop our donkeys!

Moses:  I  don’t like the sounds of that! Perhaps as a precautionary measure we should hide our asses before battle.

Spy:  Uh, I don’t think there’s going to be any battle. On the way over here all the unwashed masses were murmuring and mumbling about how they weren’t going to go to war.

Moses: All the unwashed masses murmured that?

Spy:  Yes and mumbled it too.

Moses:  Oy!  But what about the washed masses?

Spy:  Six of one, half a dozen of the other, you know what I mean?

Moses:  No.

Seconds later, the Lord showed up on his pillar cloud and told Moses that because the unwashed masses  didn’t want to go into battle, the Lord was going to kill each and every one of them including their children and grandchildren — then scatter their corpses across the wilderness, so Moses thought it might be a good time to stage a drunk with power intervention for God.

Moses pointed out to the Lord, that if the  Lord killed everybody,  He would besmirch His reputation as a Huggable Teddy Bear Stuffed with Loving Kindness who traveled around the land in His Cloud Pillar answering  prayers and whatnot.

But the Lord was unmoved by Moses’ intervention and sent everyone scurrying to go to battle with the giants of Canaan.  Naturally every Israelite that went to battle the giants was stepped on and squished  in the first three minutes and the ones that weren’t got a good dousing of raid Raid Ant and Israelite Spray.

And there you have it, Dear Readers, this week’s installment of  The Bible According to Gregory.  Stayed to tuned next week for more biblical adventures!

Until next time . . . I love you

the Murmuring Mumblers

Golf Commentary in a Universe Where Nobody Keeps Tract of Strokes, Yardage or Statistics

golf course grass

Commentator # 1:  There goes the great legendary golfer Arnold Palmer.

Commentator # 2:  Arnold Palmer!

Commentator # 1:  He sure is good at golfing!

Commentator # 2:  He’s won the Masters like . . . a bunch of times.

Commentator # 1:  I know!  He’s the winning-est winner who ever won!

Commentator # 2:  You can say that again!

Commentator # 1:  He’s the winning-est winner who ever won!

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa!

Commentator # 1:   Ha ha ha!

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa HA HA!

Commentator # 1:  HAAAAAAAAA ha!

Commentator # 2:  ahhhh . . . but seriously remember that time the great legendary golfer, Arnold Palmer, was playing in the Masters and he got up on the green and he eventually putted the ball into the hole?

Commentator # 1:  An Incredible moment!

Commentator # 2:  That will forever cement the great, legendary golfer, Arnold Palmer, in the annals of golf greatness.

Commentator # 1:  What will?

Commentator # 2:  The way he putted the ball into the hole at the Masters.

Commentator # 1:  Oh that!

Commentator # 2: Yeah what did you think we were talking about?

Commentator # 1:  I thought we were talking about his hair.

Commentator # 2: No, really?  Ha ha ha!

Commentator # 1:  Ah ha haaaa!

Commentator # 2:   Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Commentator # 1:  Ah ha haaaa HA HA!

Commentator # 2:  Haaaaaaa HA!

Commentator # 1:  Ahhhhh . . . .but seriously the truly noble thing about the great, legendary golfer, Arnold Palmer, is that he came from an ordinary background in which he didn’t have to overcome anything and yet he’s arguably the best golfer who has ever lived.

Commentator # 2:  What about Tiger?

Commentator # 1:  I said arguably.

Commentator # 2:  Oh, sorry  I didn’t hear that part.

Commentator # 1: No, really?  Ha ha ha!

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa!

Commentator # 1:   Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa HA HA!

Commentator # 1:   Ahhhh . . . . but seriously, do you know how many times the great legendary golfer Arnold Palmer has made a hole in one?

Commentator # 2:  Who would know something like that?

Commentator # 1:  I don’t know, but I bet it’s a bunch.

Commentator # 1:  Yeah probly.

Commentator # 2:  You mean probably?

Commentator # 1:  No.

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa!

Commentator # 1:   Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa HA HA!

Commentator # 1:  Haaaaaaa HA!

Commentator # 2:  Yup.  There he goes the legendary golfer Arnold Palmer!

Commentator # 1:  I wonder where he’s going?

Commentator # 2:  Probably to the bathroom.

Commentator # 1:  You mean probly?

Commentator # 1: Yup!  Ha ha ha!

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa!

Commentator # 1:   Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Commentator # 2:  Ah ha haaaa HA HA!

 

 

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grown-Up Children

Just Keep On Driving 

Highway 395 slices the state of California right down the middle like a dull knife wielded by a farsighted California State Assemblyman on a two-week Tequila bender.  It is on the right-hand half that our story takes place.

Here Jake Spitzwater presided over the Spitzwater Hamster Ranch – where 15,000 hamsters roamed free across a 12-acre expanse of prime California Hamster Country.  And here is where Jake Spitzwater reigned supreme over his hamster empire, signing autographs for tourists who would stop by occasionally just to get Jake’s autograph and to also borrow a gallon of gas having run out about a mile up the road.

Jake Spitzwater had an uncanny gift.  He could look any hamster squarely in the eyes and charm it immediately into submission so that it never bit anyone again.  Using this god-given talent, Jake made millions.

Its just a pity that Candy had to come along and ruin everything.

Jake first set eyes on Candy shortly after she ran out of gas about a mile up the road.  She sauntered down Jake’s driveway dressed in her little white tank top, skimpy cutoffs and pink hamsterboy boots.  By the time Candy pouted her pretty little lips to form the words, “Can I borrow a gallon of gas?” Jake was in love.

Candy became Candy Spitzwater two weeks later.  They settled easily into an idyllic hamstermen’s life, sitting on the porch watching their hamsters kick up teeny, tiny clouds of dust on a lazy afternoon.

Then one day Candy forgot and left the gate open and she and Jake watched helplessly as 15,000 head of hamster ran away — taking their idyllic life with them.

Jake was so mad he shot Candy right between the eyes while Candy simultaneously fatally wounded Jake by stabbing him 37 times in the abdomen.

If you’re ever on the right-hand side of highway 395 and see a commotion, pay no attention.  It’s probably just the ghosts of Jake and Candy Spitzwater or, failing that, 15,000 bewildered head of hamster — either way just keep on driving.

Hamsters on highway 395

Until next time . . . I love you