Category: Humor - trish hermanson

Is "Irony" the Opposite of "Wrinkly"?

7/24/2020

Vince Rozmiarek claims “irony” is “the opposite of wrinkly,” and with such wordplay, his humor has circled the globe - that is, for those who believe the world is round. If you don’t, Vince says: “The only thing flat Earthers have to fear is sphere itself.”
     Vince’s punny-ness on a community center sign has brought fame to the Colorado town of Indian Hills (population 1,000). Globe trekkers make pilgrimages to the mountain town to snap selfies there.
     Many of Vince’s posts are about food:
     “Turning vegan would be a big missed steak.”
     “Every food could be a superfood if you put a little cape on it.”
     Or about drink:
     “Be careful tonight — one pour decision may lead to another.”
     “Before the crowbar was invented, crows had to drink at home.”
     Only a few posts are political:
     “If your fridge is running, I’d vote for it.”
     “The problem with political jokes is that they sometimes get elected.”
     Some are philosophical:
     "My intellectual property is in foreclosure.”
     “Ever stop to think and forget to start again?”
     Others are refreshingly practical:
     “Forget world peace. Visualize using your turn signal.”
     For seven years Vince has created a trail of laughter for those driving by. It’s his gift to the world, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all learned how to spread around our gifts in a positive way? A family in Canada does this through its music, and I invite you to click here for a happy song from them.

Oh, the Places You'll Go

6/22/2020

I don’t think this is what Dr. Seuss meant when he wrote “Oh, the Places You’ll Go,” but nature called when Duane and I visited Bayou La Batre, Alabama, recently. Recognize that name? It’s where Forrest Gump built his shrimping business.
     I wanted to explore this fishing village made famous by the Gump movie. Oh, the things we discovered, like a rusted-out Soviet submarine dry-docked next to a drawbridge - stories vary as to why it’s there. We drove by the Perfect Alternative Baptist Church - what’s it an alternative to? And the Odd Fellows Cemetery - it's named after an international fraternity, but do you have to be odd to be buried there? A sign advertised Murder Point Oysters, and I wondered if Rocky’s Gym of Faith meant you had to have faith that working out would do any good.
     These sites gave me chuckles. But another smacked me in the face with reality - a musty second hand store where profits go toward providing temporary food, shelter, and clothing to families in crisis.
     Such is life, both humor and sorrow. Our journey reminded me of writer John Steinbeck who said that “we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.” He and Seuss were right: oh, the places we go if only we open our eyes and our hearts to all that is around us.
  What’s around you?

Just Following Directions

1/9/2020

Duane and I didn’t want to be accused of not following directions at the elementary school our granddaughter attends, so when we saw this banner announcing what to do, we complied.
     Signs all around make me chuckle. Like this placard: “In case of fire, please leave the building before posting it on social media.” Really?
     Printing errors make me laugh, too. Like this graduation bulletin: instead of saying “Music Provided By…,” it said, “Mucus Provided By….” Is it a ceremony for snotty noses?
     A music store offers these bumper stickers:
     “B (sharp) Never B (flat) Always B(natural)”
     “I’m a Musician. What’s Your Excuse?”
     “Drummers are Good Roll Models”
     "Get off My Bach"
     “Lord of the Strings”
      “Drummers Use Their Heads”
     Finally, this cut me up: the business name on a truck for a tree pruning company - “Limbotomy.”
     I hope your interactions with the world provide a touch of humor. We all need it.

My Madhouse with a Mammogram

8/30/2019

It’s smashing time, the annual ritual in which my twin orbs are pressed into pancakes and x-rayed, to be studied by a stranger.
     And I’m a “call back,” one whose pictures weren’t “quite right,” so I’ve held my breath through another torturous compression. Now, I’m trapped in a waiting room. My choices here? To flip through a twenty-six-year-old magazine about houseplants (I’m not joking), or read an article about how supermodel Gisele Bündchen battled anxiety.
     Why would I be anxious?
     A cheery tech appears and announces the second shoot was “questionable.” I’m sent down the hall for an ultrasound where I’m introduced to a whirring machine named Unetixs. I wonder if this rhymes with “lunatics.”
     Then I’m camped in another Hades waiting room. A Martha Stewart magazine from sixteen years ago tells me “100+ Ways to Get Festive” for Christmas - and it’s August.
     Am I going crazy?
     One wall of this room is painted green like overcooked peas, which matches my flap-open gown that I clutch to keep from exposing myself.
     Two hours have crawled by. I guess that’s why I’m called a “patient.”
     The doctor appears. He announces that my anomaly is my “new, best friend,” a water cyst. Nothing to worry about.
     I breathe again, dress, and walk out the automatic double doors, shaking my head. I know mammograms can save lives, but something about this process strikes me as inherently degrading, dehumanizing.
     So when I have the opportunity, how can I create an environment that showers sensitive dignity on others in their most vulnerable times?

Getting a Fresh Coat of Paint

8/2/2019

My husband Duane says I get more paint on me than on the walls, but I’m trying to rejuvenate our home with a fresh coat of paint. And how the memories flow as I listen for hours to rock classics: “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” - when Frank didn’t show up at my party. “You’ve lost that lovin’ feelin’ - when Larry and I broke up.
     These were tragedies back then, but we all kept going because we were told “don’t let the sun catch you cryin.” And there was always someone to “help me if you can, I’m feelin’ down.”
     Life was simpler, with “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.” It wasn’t until years later that any of us faced the tough things like debt, divorce, disease, death.
     My playlist rolls out “Mrs. Brown you’ve got a lovely daughter” while my body aches from rolling wide swatches of paint. Today, Herman’s Hermits would sing that song: “Mrs. Brown you’ve got a lovely walker.”
     My steps aren’t as lively anymore either. I used to stay up into the wee hours to “do the jerk.” If I tried that now, I’d stumble through a knock off of the Bee Gees: “How can you mend a broken hip?”
     My body is tattered, and so is my home. But the old house is getting rejuvenated, and I think that will put a spring back in my step, too.
  Especially if I grab some “Afternoon Delight” today - a nap.