He and She: Doughnutty

She: “And you’ll be glad to know that, while you were showering and dressing for the conference that you’re driving to this morning, I got your breakfast ready for you.”

He: “Great. Because by the time I get there, I’m going to be hungry. I don’t need much, though …”

She: “I know. Just something to get you going. Juice and a malasada.”

He: “Um, thank you, these things are tasty and filling enough to let me survive the drive …”

She: “But what?”

He: “Funny you should mention that butt. I know I’m an expanding man, and this should help things along nicely. Sigh. How have I failed you?”

She:Failed you?”

He: “Or is this your way of telling me that you’re worried about this conference I’m going to? Yes, it’s a science conference, and yes, it’s got this telescope protest stuff hanging over its head, but things aren’t that bad yet! At least I hope not! And I can’t afford to show up there all gloomy.”

She: “Because I’m feeding you something mal and sad?”

He:Yes! Don’t peeps make bonagladas for days like this, when it’s important to start off with a sunny disposition?”

She:Hush your mouth!! You trying to get us arrested?”

He: “[…] whut?”

She:Sweetheart! The rush of euphoria from eating a bonaglada has killed people! Especially pessimists, who panic. I, ah, don’t wish to cast any aspersions on your character, but I do not want to lose you! These things are so dangerous, the pushers of ecstasy want nothing to do with them. The DEA and FDA don’t even want bonagladas on their schedules, for fear of drawing attention to them!”

He: “So how come we still get to have malasadas, then?”

She: “Easy. They’re sweet and tasty. Their downer effects don’t do anything more to pessimists than what the pessimists have already done to themselves, and the optimists just ignore them.”

He: “Uh huh. Babe, I love you – but aren’t these tales just a little half-baked?”

She:Well! Are we talking about mal-asadas or aren’t we?”

Posted in food, He and She, humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Dude and Dude: Chaired

“Marco!

“Polo!”

“Parko!”

“… whut?”

“As in ‘park it’ so’s I c’n talk wit’ ya, dude.”

“Yeah? What ‘ bout? It’s late. Dude needs his beauty sleep, yeah?”

Seriously, dude? I gotta tell ya, ya c’ld do tha Rip van Winkle thingy six times runnin’ an’ it wouldn’ do ya no good aytall.”

“[…] Ya better tell me what ya want now, dude, afore I try ta help ya wit’ yer beauty sleep needs!”

“Knock yerself out, dude. Which is what’ll happen if’n ya try ta take a swing at me. Klutz.”

“Same as you!”

“Yeah, speakin’ a klutzes, ya got any idee how old OC is?”

“What? He pissed off his body parts again?”

“Never mind his. I’m sweatin’ mine! Mebbe OC don’t mind workin’ when most peeps are lookin’ forward ta layin’ on tha beach. But I do.”

“Dig. Mebbe he ain’t tired a tha daily grind. But I sure am! What c’n we do about it?”

“Get him a, like, reminder? That he’s supposed ta be, like, kickin’ back? Mebbe thinkin’ ’bout retirin’?”

“Dude. He’s gotta lose tha spare tire he’s a’ready got afore he c’n start thinkin’ ’bout replacin’ it.”

“Ya ain’t helpin’, dude.”

“Ok, ok. What kinda reminder?”

“Somethin’ old school. Old as he is. Like … yeah! A rockin’ chair!”

“No, dude. Just no.”

Huh? Why not?”

“Dude. Ya don’ give no musician a rockin’ chair. Ever. Not even ta someone like OC who pretends ta be a musician. Too dangerous.”

“What tha hell is dangerous about a rockin’ chair?”

“D’pends on what kinda rocks, don’ it? Wrong kinda rocks, wrong kinda attitude, a dude could get stoned, yeah?”

“This is bad how?”

“Size matters, dude. An’ that, like, assumes that ya get a rockin’ chair an’ it stays a rockin’ chair.”

“I don’ think …”

How ya gonna know? Right now, OC’s practicin’ fer a rock program. What if’n the next one calls fer, like, Strauss? Is he suddenly gonna have a waltzin’ chair?”

“Dude …”

“‘R Sousa, an’ now he’s got a marchin’ chair …”

Dude …!

“‘R some peep calls fer a ’70s revival party, an’ he’s tryin’ ta hold down a disco chair …”

“Gangsta.”

“A rap chair?!?”

“Yeah. One that I c’n mebbe rap ya upside tha head wit’!”

“Only if’n ya c’n catch it, dude. An’ if’n it goes ta hip hop, I don’ like yer chances a doin’ that. I also don’ like OC’s chances a stayin’ seated in it.”

“I don’ like tha chances a OC doin’ nuthin’ but standin’ up tha rest a his life. Sheesh.”

“Yeah, ’cause tha chair’s dangerous. Too much trouble. Like I said.”

“So like what do we do now? Wait fer OC ta, like, kick tha bucket afore we c’n get some rest?”

“Um, dude, OC kickin’ tha bucket won’t do us no good. I wouldn’t go there …”

“Right. Where do I get to go, then, dude?”

“Wherever OC goes, and we does whatever OC does. Deal.”

“Argh.”

Posted in Dude and Dude, humor, music | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

He and She: Recipe for Road Rage

She: “Sweetheart?”

He: “Yes’m?”

She: “I just saw on Fa…”

He: “Scraper alert!!”

She: “No, we do not live in Boston (thank God!), and we do not keep a scraper in the car year round!”

He: [sighs] “Just on the computer.”

She: “Then how do you expect me to find out about stuff? Like about this bumper sticker. Watch out for the idiot behind me. Ever see one?”

He:Not I, said the cat. Onscreen or in the wild. But [types search string] … it appears to be a thing. A big thing. Sheesh.”

She: “The message seems just a little … aggressive?”

He: “Tip of the iceberg, apparently. There are whole books of these stickers on sale now. Stickers like, um, this one.”

She: “Wow. Where’s the aloha?”

He: “You kidding? That sticker’s the motto of the Honolulu Motorists Convention. Two-hour meetings (or longer) twice each weekday, and irregularly on weekends. Aloha serves those who serve themselves – with fleetness of foot, sharpness of eye, and a sense of timing that standup comics can only fantasize about.”

She: “Hmph! Trying to take that ‘standup’ crack lying down. Not working for me.”

He: “You’ve always been a standup kind of person when it matters.”

She: “Oh, OK. Nice save. Mwhah!”

He:Mwhah back. Y’know what, though? These aggro things usually carry with them the seeds of their own destruction. The rejoinder to this ‘idiot behind me’ sticker is so obvious. Surely somebody’s figured this out by now. [Types another search string] What? Nothing?”

She: “Way to keep the feminists mad at you, dear.”

He: “… huh?”

She: “Shirley’s been excluded. Again. If the response is so obvious, you make it!”

He: “Damn right! This tyranny of the car in front has got to end! Gimme a minute …”

He: “There!”

She: “Um …”

He: “So how else do you propose to communicate with people who insist on viewing the world through rear-view mirrors?”

She: “Trying to make sure that the passed rears up to bite them, yes?”

He: “That’s the idea.”

She: “So when did you become the membership director for this Honolulu Motorists Convention? And when did this become a statewide mandate?”

He: […]

She: “Don’t roll your eyes at me! You get an ‘idiot in front’ sticker run up behind an ‘idiot behind’ sticker, both drivers get pissed off, stop in the middle of traffic, and start a meeting right there and then! And none of the rest of us get to get anything done!”

He: “This is different from what we’ve got now how?”

She:Please, love. There’s no call for making things any worse!”

Posted in Hawai'i, He and She, humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments