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Friday, January 31, 2014

Lightbulb (story)

In The Words of Dr. Gru "Lightbulb!"

"Honey!" (that's what she calls me when she wants me to do something) "If you're not doing anything, (if you spent five minutes talking to her about...??..oh let's say purses, she would tell you I'm never doing anything) could you change the lightbulb over the bathroom vanity?"
"Sure no problem, I'll phone the electrician!"
"Good, can you phone the plumber too, and have him put the toilet seat down as well, Mr. Wise Bottom!"
And with those sweet parting words the wife heads out the door to work. Which, gives me ten hours to change the lightbulb.
I have found with lightbulbs the easiest way to tell if they need replacing is to turn them on. 'CLICK' Immediately I feel my body heat up. My eyes squint in all it's eight, no, seven, 75 watt, clear globe splendor. This must be what God looks like!
I hold my hands to my eyes as if looking at the sun and with superior intellect surmise its the second bulb on the right. I power down and grab her 'Voluptuous, Full, Valentine Red' lip grease and draw an arrow at the bulb and write 'Replace this one as all the other 8, no, 7 work just fine'. And then I sign my name with what was left in the tube.
As I make my way across the 16 acre parking lot of the not-so-local do-it-yourself super store of everything that every wife's been nagging every man on earth about, I try to remember the number of watts on the lightbulb. Well if I can't remember I'll just get something that just looks like it.
WRONG! There is nothing in the 80ft. isle of illumination that comes anywhere close to what looks like a clear, double digit watt-ed globe bulb. All the bulbs look like DNA sequences! Squiggles and turns and loops of frosted glass that cost more than my lunch at McDonalds!
"No sir, we don't carry any incandescent bulbs anymore." said the man I had to track down in the orange shirt. "They've been banned by the government, for being an inefficient user of energy. It's against the law to sell the bulb you're looking for."
"So what do I do, buy eight new DNA sequences because of one bulb?"
"If you'd like to borrow my phone sir to call the wife...."
"Why,...do you think I can't make this decision on my own?"
He shrugged his shoulders, held out two open palms and raised his eyebrows. It was then I noticed every guy in the store was on a cell phone. Professionals! They did a lot of things around the house, and knew how to do it right. Ask the wife. Well not me, I have a greater IQ than my bulb had watts.
"PSSST...PSSST" I turned to see a guy in the next isle over had parted boxes of light fixtures and was trying to get my attention by forcing air between his teeth. "You looking for candy? Bright clear candy?" He whisper shouted at me. "Bright hot candy?"
I pointed my finger at myself, stuck my chin on my chest and in my best DeNero said "You talking to me?" He wiggled an excited index finger at me and motioned with pull on his head to follow him. Sure, why not. At the very least I'll get candy or at the very worst I'll be able to report a pervert is on the loose in isle 57.
It's out the doors and off to a far corner of the parking lot. I somewhat question my decision after having walked five minutes past my car. He stops at a old blue Chevy van with curtains on the windows. I'm thinking I'm not getting candy. He slides open the rusted side door and looks around the lot as he's doing so. I'm now thinking intervention! Has the wife paid this guy to abduct me and rush me off to some sort of place to reprogram my dependency for candy?
"Behold" he commands as he slowly waves his arm across boxes of incandescent bulbs of every shape and wattage. "C A N D Y" he slowly breathes. "In-CANDE-sent.. CANDY. Bright, clear and oh so hot CandyBulbs."
I'm now standing at the crossroad of my life. Do I commit this crime and illuminate my dark side for wanting a brighter tomorrow. Will I always be looking over my shoulder in fear of being called a nar - do -well for just wanting one matching lightbulb?
"If you'd like to borrow my phone sir to call the wife..."
"This is between you,.....and me" I state through clenched teeth, doing my best Clint Eastwood. "I'll take a kilo, .....no 1000 kilos!" I quickly insert, with now a Mexican accent, and not knowing how much a kilo is.
"Whoa Italian Western Cowboy! Easy on the reins. I sell buy the box. Four to the box."
"I'll take one box then." I slowly whisper as I cross that line between right and wrong.
"If you're caught, this never happened, you do not know of me. Tell them it's for your grandkids Easy Bake Oven. It's still legal to buy a full load of triple digit wattage if you bake with a bulb in a plastic oven. I have many Easy Bake Oven Schools all over North America. Nobody gets burnt! It's how I get my stock of Candy.
My phone alerts me I have a call from home. "Hello?...Oh hi Honey ( I call her that when I've done something....she gets a lot of being called honey) Whats that? The bathroom mirror? Lip gloss?.....Could of been the electrician......my signature?
This was followed by 3 1/2 minutes of me saying yes honey, no honey and you're absolutely right honey while coiling myself into a fetal position on the ground under the van. She hangs up and I collect what dignity I had left and inform the nice man with the blue van that I will not be needing any Candy today....thank-you. My lovely wife has seen a picture in the do-it-yourself book of weekends that stretch into months, that she would like me to purchase. An energy efficient cost saving light fixture to hang over the bathroom vanity.
"Hey Gringo if you'd like to borrow my phone..." (he shouts but is incomplete in its full statement as he can't hold back from laughing). His laughter pokes at my ears as I reach the car then take the extra three minute more to walk back to the store.


Bob Niles
604-761-2466

Adult and Battery. (cartoon)

Adult and Battery

ADULT and BATTERY

A
B
c.........g
t x.........................next time won't.......sing with me.
How was I to know it was this that needed new batteries? I pretty much know the alphabet. I don't play with the 'Old McDonald Alphabet Barn'!
But she, (job creator and wife) writes this cryptic message on a piece of paper 'Replace the batteries I've been bugging you about for the last three months ya dumb bottom!' It was no. 137 in the once named 'HoneyDo' Jar. But after 24 years of marriage it's been renamed to something a little more direct with a slang term for bottom as myself. The 'Get Up And Do It You Dumb A-- (Bottom)' Jar.
It took two double 'A' (AA) batteries to drive this farmyard tool of alphabetic knowledge. Two little cylinders the size of....well, small batteries (I was always bad at analogies) have taught all four of my grand kids the early basics of the English written language.
Absolutely amazing if you think about it.
I started school, as probably most of the rest of you did born before Sesame Street, not knowing the building blocks of written word. The basic A-Z was an unknown. Not my mother, father, strange aunt, older brother, or The Friendly Giant taught me the ABC Song. Mom, Dad and older brother had their own problems. Strange aunt...well strange says it all. And the giant....although a giant, he certainly wasn't friendly! He had a rooster stuffed in a bag nailed to the wall!
These two little batteries along with a plastic barn and 23 plastic letters (Y G and B disappeared under the fridge) taught all four grandkids the alphabet. It sang out the ABC song and had the capability of pronouncing each letter when placed in the hayloft. The 23 singing capital letters are all magnetically smattered across the aforementioned fridge. In groups of three and four they hold crayon drawings of princess and the ever so flattering drawings of ones self by a three year old. She must think I'm a genius because she draws my heads so big. I think I'll keep this one, it might come in handy next argument with the wife.
How can I just toss or recycle these two batteries? They should be prized and presented for all to see. For someday, I can say 'Kids, this is who /what taught you the alphabet. These two insignificant cylinders of positive and negative polarity had the sole purpose of teaching each of you the letters from A-Z.', and have succeeded where strange Aunt Fizzy couldn't.
These two AA batteries (no meetings required) can't be tossed as play batteries that drive toys. Or thrown away with stupid batteries that just operate lights. On-Off. Or tossed out with the flash batteries that just go 'DAH! And then wait to go DAH! again.They can't die with the snobby camera batteries that have traveled and been to all the best parties and vacation spots. Party! Party! Or placed among little fashion oddity batteries so small and tiny that hide in expensive watches that make size 'AA' size look so big and freakish.
No I say! Not my AA friends! They shall remain....forever............ She's standing behind me isn't she?
"Will you JUST replace the battery!" she suggests. "You've been at this for 52 minutes and haven't done a thing! Now get moving!" ( again suggests) "Jobs 138 and 140 are waiting. You can do 139 when you take your bath. And might I suggest (see....suggests) you close the curtains or put some pants on while doing all this."
"Yes dear." was my only reply. Should of shown her my genius picture.
I dug deeper into the toolbox looking for a tiny Phillips driver with which to free my two little double 'A' friends. But why? We all know the alphabet! They're not going to play with this anymore. Job done I say! (suggest?) Think I'll start on job 139 and fill the tub. Already have my pants off, just need the pruning shears from the garage.


Bob Niles

Friday, January 24, 2014

With No.5 You Get Egg-Rolls and Your Mail. (cartoon)

With No.5 You Get Egg-rolls and Your Mail

With No.5 You Get Egg-rolls and Your Mail


"My husbands home! My husbands home! she yells as she runs down the drive to meet the mailman. She's waving her arms all excited that I was leaving late for work that day."
"What was that?...I was putting the lawn mower away."
"Our mailman Brad, I was going to mention how the family will miss him. He's been doing our house for...?.. about a year before Darren was born. And. Now with home delivery to stop...well I won't need a mail slot in the house anymore."
"No I guess not. Soon to be quite the business I guess repairing that air vent in all the homes. Just let me water these begonias and will go in."
"Mail delivery has gone the way of milk delivery to the home. What's next the daily paper? Just turn off that light at the front door because it's no longer needed. The once welcoming front part of our house with it's well lit broad walk leading to it, that suggested success, is now an echo to a brief past."
"There that should do it, all watered. Come on inside.
"Think about it, who now needs a front door? Who needs an elaborate front entry? Nobody answers, or goes through their front doors. Gone is that Avon lady, all put together just so, knocking at your front door. And you looking like Mrs. Cleaver, draped in pearls welcoming her into your modern home."
"Who told you I dress up like Mrs. Cleaver?"
"Ha Ha! ....it was Bill from hockey.......You just going to wipe your hands on your pants? Could you at least look a little professional and wash em? That whole 'WELCOME' door mat is a thing of the past. People don't entertain at home anymore, homes are too small and close together. So the people you'd like to welcome, you don't. And you have to agree with me here, when theres a knock at the door right away you get defensive. Who's There? They use to say that in the old days, then we stopped for 50/75 years and now we're back saying it again. You don't want people knocking on the house unless it's expected. A knock means somebody wants something."
"You Know I Can't Hear You With The Water Running."
"I GUESS IT WAS DOCTORS that stopped home delivery first. And now we have to go someplace to get our mail. They should put the banks of mailboxes in pizza and Chinese food restaurants. So when you order home delivery for a pie or the No. 5 with egg rolls you could tell them to bring your mail when they come."
"Good idea! Have a seat."
"A home use to be where all the neighbourhood kids played. Some had messy unkept yards, with bikes and half finished projects spilling out their carports. Some neighbours were loud and got a bad reputation for being so. Every house was different, people expressed their own individuality in colours and styles. When it would be resold it would still keep the name of he first owner. 'Hey do ya know the Johnstons house where the Kilmeners live?.....' Houses were individuals that had their own character. Now we've made them boxes of isolation to fit our own attempt at isolating ourselves, via computer from society. Hiding our secret lives from judging eyes of society, letting us be the wrong we are. Houses hold secrets. BROO-HAHA!"
"Could you just lay back and do a little less talking."
"........... ........The postman doesnt ring twice, he doesn't ring at all! Bit by bit we've successfully turned our homes into castles. Fortress all the same colour lined up in a row. Fenced for protection. We don't leave doors or windows open, we lock them from all who would dare approach our perimeter. That Brad and his bag of bills and shiny pamphlets, entering my property, inserting whatever he liked into my home. I think I'm glad he's gone! Oh sure it's great how Brad has taken a real liking to Darren, but he brings no letters from grandma or strange Aunt Fizzy. There's no envelopes for birthdays or Christmas in his daily delivery. It's all junk mail!"
"Is it possible for you to open your mouth without speaking?"
"Now with the government making home mail delivery a thing of the past they have allowed us to continue on to or final quest of total isolation. That strange weirdo living alone on the mountain top isn't such the nut we all thought him to be...is he? He's now us! A house now, is just to sleep in, and if you're lucky you'll bump into another family member if they're back on day shift."
"We'll that's a thought....not a good one, but, it's a thought. What say we ask you to open wide, maybe look around, see what you've been up to?"
"No problem! Just stay out of my computer, phone, medicine cabinet, under the bathroom sink, garage, bedroom drawers and...?...between the mattress."
"No Ramblin Rose, open your mouth, without talking, let me look for cavities, your teeth, dentist, got it. Unlike you I have something to hide."
"Wwwwhh laaatt wwwaass nnnaaawww nnniiicccce...."
"Okay now you're talking sense."


Bob Niles


bobby did this

Saturday, January 11, 2014

It's the Least Wonderful Time of the Year

It's the Least Wonderful Time of the Year

The three best words that describe January are as follows and I quote, stink, stank, stunk!
I quote 'The Grinch' because he use to love this time of year. No more is the belch of whomboozelers, the annoying tinkle tinkle from zingdingglers or the feast of the beast by Christmas singers!
The holidays are over! Decorations are down and boxed away. No more parties! No more feasts! The weather is all rain, but we dare not complain because the rest of Canada is much worse.
The only holiday comfort left is the burning logs on TV.
Craving a fiery log fix I extend an arm out of its winter nest that I've fashioned from three blankets and a sleeping bag on my EasyBoy. Clicker in hand I tune to the happy, comforting, in this time of need, holiday hang on. WHAT!.........it's gone! This too! I want my EM-TV! (EM= embers) Its the only reality TV I watch. I never saw how it ended! Did it just burn out like all the kid TV stars of the 80s? Was it snuffed out like an Italian gangster?
Why? It was as entertaining as most of the shows that are on TV now.
They might have mixed it up a bit by burning different things from time to time. First could be all the wrapping paper and bows from all the holiday gifts. The different colours that burn from the papers and watch the bows melt and smoke before they combust into hot hungry flames.
Then in February have a Valentine Special. The burning of pictures of old boyfriends. The creepy Valentine cards from people like the sweat pants guy at the end of the hall. We all have items of a love gone wrong that need to burn.
Easter, could bring about the melting of cute chocolate animals that we didn't want to pass our gums. Watch as they droop, melt and liquefy like old vegetables in the crisper you bought at the start of the year to start a healthier lifestyle but didn't.
Spring Break and the kids are at home alone could bring about live phone in shows where household items from the bathroom and kitchen cabinets are set ablaze. The pretty colours and the oh so toxic fumes all safely kept away from harming little Johnnys lungs. Late night, for the adults you could have a phone in show on stuff from the garage. That stuff burns real big! ( I'm starting to sound like a pyro!)
How about a divorce special. He burns her stuff....she burns his stuff. We're talking Emmy material here.
Then theres all the summer fires. Camp sing songs fires around a cheerful circular center point. Scary story fires, all told across hungry licking flames that dance shadows across terrified faces. Friday night bonfires of drunken idiots that end with no eyelashes and much singed hair all to the cry of 'I love you man!'
You could have different wood night. Maple he will Mondays! Fir-get-me-not Fridays! Concluding with Spruce me up Saturdays.
All these possibilities and only half the years gone. TV programmers where are you? This is a sure hit! If you guys won't maybe I'll start my own network. Call it the CBC (Continually Burning Channel). Not to be confused with the other CBC which replaces burning with boring.
The need for fire has been part of our earliest history. Comfort, togetherness, safety, warmth and light was provided by man learning to recreate the flame. It's roots run deep in civilization. Is it no wonder then that we all are guilty of watching a few burning logs crackling away to a time not forgotten. Happier times. Simpler times. A time before stink, stank, stunk!

Bob Niles





bobby did this

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

I Tried Everything to Loose...... (cartoon)

I Tried Everything to Loose Five Pounds

I Tried Everything to Loose Five Pounds
and then
I Lost Two-Hundred and Ten Pounds on the Greyhound System

Every year about this time it's the same old thing with me and my belt. Do I buy a new one or is there enough leather in the old one to drill another hole? Another hole into a piece of leather so long that by the time I have one end into the second belt loop of my pants, the buckle and twelve inches of premium cowhide are still snaking their way across the floor.
Why even wear a belt? Why not just let my ever expanding belly run free? Let it bump into people! Let it rub up against total strangers on the bus! Make them feel as uncomfortable as I am. And besides, without a belt I could tie these shoes (if there're the ones with the laces, I can't see from here) without the fear of passing out. Without a belt maybe my face won't turn that bright red waddling up them four stairs to the bakery. And, maybe I wouldn't sweat like a boxer in training when the weather gets warm enough to melt ice-cream.
Or maybe I could loose weight?
Been there done that, bought the XXXL tee-shirt.
My Mother-in-Law figures it should be easy for a looser like me to loose weight. God bless her for believing in me but I've tried more times than a Mars Bar has calories. And, I've tried every method known to late night television. All the gadgets, pills, powders, pulleys and plastic power pumping weight reducing marvels of modern science that this one person can afford on easy monthly payment plans.
Its that darned good looking tanned guy with more ruts in his belly than a Saskatchewan dirt road after a rain storm, with his equally tanned good looking female counter part, that want to make me, a better me. All you have to do is loose weight and all your problems are solved, or so they would have you believe. After you loose the weight your lighting is even better. Your before picture with all the extra baggage has that glaring bright light, all so flattering. Then once the weight magically disappears the lighting is warm and soft and makes your skin look like rippled toffee, that glistens and oozes health.
That couple suck me in every time! And they're on every channel! Oh sure their face is different, but the well toned body is the same. They just change the head for each and every new gimmick that comes along. And gosh golly darn they all fit under the bed. Like this is the main selling point. "Well I wasn't going to buy the thirty-seven in one body toning, weight reducing, carbon fiber, life extending, job enhancing, the kids will thank you, wife will love you, three year easy payment exercise marvel, but hey it fits under the bed!" Every bed in my house has some sort of life changing equipment under it! Because, they gave me the idea to put it there! Every time I say my bedtime prayers I bang my knees! If they had of told me it fits easily in front of the car in the garage, it'd probably be there.
Why? Because they use hypnosis to make us believe in their product. There can be no other reason. How else can you explain spending thirty dollars on forty-two cents of rubber tubing that you somehow magically think will be the answer to all of your problems. And then for some reason you want to stuff it under the bed.
I even put my weight loss pills under the bed. Mostly for fear of embarrassment someone may find out I'm on them. Oh sure I'll leave the hemorrhoid cream in the medicine cabinet for all a visitor to see, but not my diet pills.
This embarrassment I suffer from is due to the fact I've been scammed several times on my way to an easy healthier skinny me. Like the time I sent away fifty-two dollars to South Africa for an appetite suppressing pill that's made from crushed bushes that tribesmen have used for centuries to curb hunger. They didn't mention that that was all they had to eat. Just take thirty-two pills before any meal to reduce your caloric intake, the label read. And every time I did this, I did leave food behind on my plate, which was equivalent to the pile of thirty-two pills I'd eaten before dinner. Not only did it not work, it made my pooh smell funny. My Mother-in-Law, not to let anything slip by (here I mean verbally) made sure she let me know she noticed, and that the change, although welcome would probably affect her sensitive asthma condition.
Next were the weight loss pills from Sweden. The ones that Customs Canada gave me so much trouble on. Never wrap anything in plain brown paper coming from Sweden. Why? Because my Mother-in-Law now thinks of me as some kinda pervert! These pills I found out after a couple days were just laxatives, which I should of realized sooner because after the first day I couldn't leave the house. It got so bad I was dumping food I hadn't eaten yet! I was deathly afraid of sneezing in public, or private. If I had sneezed at work, (which they had phoned the house to see where I had been for the last week. I was there, just in the can) I would have to change jobs and move to a different city.
In mid-January I signed up for a two year gym membership. By the end of January I was only going there to use the showers. All the hot water I wanted and no Mother-in-Law banging on the door to use the commode. Owners of the gym loved that I showered there, they said I was an inspiration for the others to work out harder, kind of an impersonal personal trainer.
My next weight loss plan was a fail safe food system that would be delivered right to my door. Donny Osmonds little sister with that great big toothy grin, all looking slim and trim praising the weight reducing qualities of prepackaged food had me hooked. All my meals for a whole month delivered right to my house. Problem was in two weeks I had eaten what they sent me for the whole month. Now what? Wait two more weeks for food? I'll starve! Hey maybe that's how Marie lost all the weight? So what I did was sign my wife up, unbeknownst to her, and I ate that food as well. I now was eating two skinny peoples meals, and started to put on weight. I began to despise that Marie with her slim body standing beside her fat picture looking all happy and healthy, she's doing something more than just eating this crap.
My Wife then told me about an article she had read about loosing weight in one of her women's magazines. "Drink lots of water before you eat" she said "This will fill up your stomach and help reduce your food intake." Food intake? Why can't she just say eating? She thinks she's so much better than me because she's skinny. Skinny people are like that, they make fun of us gravity enriched people. She's getting just like that Marie!
So I tried the water idea before each meal. I would drink three large glasses of water before I sat down to eat. Then half way through my hot meal I would have to take a bathroom break. To solve this I just took my dinner to the bathroom and eat while on the toilet. I really didn't mind, but I would leave the door open so I could hear the news on the TV. And, with only one bathroom in the house and my Mother-in-Law staying with us for an indefinite period of time, well it was bound to happen. She walked past the bathroom door and saw me sitting on the throne in all my glory. And her with her weak heart, and the cost of the ambulance, combine this with the medical costs at the hospital......well it was either close the door and become socially ignorant on news and views or try another plan of attack on the battle of the bulge. We switched battle plans.
"Try eating from a smaller plate." my wife suggested across her mothers hospital bed, "I heard this will reduce the size of the portion intake."
What's with you skinny people? Is eat a bad word?
So now I'm eating from a plate that Is used to put under a teacup when company came over for scones. The rule my wife imposes is that I can put as much food as I want on the plate, but I can only have one plate. So I pile it high with as much food as I can. This plan for weight reduction finds me picking an awful lot of food from in, and around my swimsuit area every meal. I can't keep my food on this tiny plate, and I'm so hungry I don't want to loose a single morsel. I'm now chasing every calorie from my plate to my pants to the chair and on to the floor. I'm now giving the dog serious competition. It's my food! I want it! I need it! OOOH did the wife just drop something? Darn, Rex beat me to it!
Which brings me to the best dietary system I've found so far, and quite by accident. Eating food from off the floor. Yes folks if you want to loose five, or ten pounds in just two days simply send me thirty-five dollars plus shipping and handling and I'll ship you a three day supply of my "Food Found on Floor." Now the beautiful tanned girl says "Guys do you want to loose that unsightly round gut? Do you want to have the body you've always dreamed of? And, without the sweat and pain of working out for hours every day." Then big fat me says, "Why just look at me, I use to look like this!" Camera changes to a picture of Marie Osmond....... Ooops how'd that get there. Camera now on a picture of me in a Speedo Swimsuit, and rubber boots cutting the lawn. "And now three days later look at the difference!" Soft lighting washes over me as I turn sideways and suck in my gut.
Okay, okay this is all a dream, but loosing five pounds wasn't. Five pounds! That's one-quarter of twenty pounds! I'm almost there! Just by eating food I found on the floor. So if you want to loose weight quickly, just do as I did, eat food off the floor and puke your way to a healthier, slimmer you.
One quick note, make sure all the Swedish laxatives have cleared your system before you start eating off the floor. And for Heavens sake remember to close the bathroom door! My Mother-in-Law thinks I'm on some sort of Super Model Diet. And I disgust her.
Tomorrow I'm loosing 210 lbs., I'm taking her to the bus station. I'm so excited about my extra weight loss, thanks to the Greyhound System.

by Bob Niles



bobby did this