Category Archives: The Funny SIde

Not Digging It

Posted on by
2

Today is International Women’s Day. A good friend and colleague gave me chocolates in celebration of it. A few minutes later he come t my desk asking if I want to see a magic trick. Naturally, looking for a diversion from the more professionally put are you stupid? email I need to compose, I say yes. He does a whole dramatic swirling thing with hands before making on object magically appear. It was an object I did not see disappear, but that was kind of the point as my earring appeared in his hand with a final flourish.

I immediately reach for my right ear lobe and sure enough it’s missing the earring. I thank him happy it was saved from the graveyard. The what he, and now you, ask? The Jewelry Graveyard.

Welcome to just a small portion of the graveyard. Technically the full graveyard is a box where I place all my broken baubles. The necklaces whose chain broke, rings and bracelets with missing ‘stones’ yoy get it. You know the things that might end up in some multi-media art work of mine on a someday that has yet to happen. Yet.

In the case of these earrings It’s where the lonely, never to be mated again come to sort of die. I say sort of because I do have my Pollyanna moments at the oddest times and this is one. I simply cannot concede one will never be well matched again, that once you lose your mate your value is somehow lessened. I will find the perfect match again. Yes, I am still talking about earrings here.

This section is just one more thing I blame on Covid. Each one of these is a earring from my left ear because the earring from my right ear somehow slipped away. I imagine it happens at one of the several points in the day where having on my mask frustrates me. I either fiddle with it or yank it off. Most times I feel the pull and stop myself, but here is evidence of nine times I failed to do so and I reach work or home or wherever sans a right earring.

An array of earrings without matches spread out on a black cloth

And it’s always the right earring! I’ve given up trying to figure out the angles or differences in force ratio to my right that these are all that’s left.

Day 8 of 31

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Ummm Why?

Posted on by
7

The more I think I cannot be caught off guard by the “ummm why?” of those people with whom I share the office floor, the more those people – and note I did not say co-workers or colleagues, but those people – are determined to prove that I in fact can be caught off guard.

Exhibit A: I walk down the hall at work and encounter this: someone left their dishes in the water fountain.

Okay, “dishes” is bit of a misnomer. It’s not as if there is a stack of plates with remnants of mom’s spaghetti. [Dammit – and here comes Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” to rattle in my head for the next hour.]

I’ll even give credence to the fact that despite the literal dishwashing implement in the dirty mug in preparation for cleansing, clearly the incredibly rude person who did this was only storing the items there momentarily-likely while the used the nearby loos- before they could be taken to the sinks in the pantries. Regardless, that was just wrong.

Yes, there are water coolers -with better tasting, colder, better filtered water- located elsewhere on the floor that most people use. Those water coolers are located in the pantries that bookend the floor. As my floor hosts about 400 seats, 80-90% of which are occupied on any given weekday; the coolers are literally a full street block apart from one end of the floor to the other. This classic water fountain is centrally located on the floor. Regardless, that it is used much less often, it remains a working fountain, I have seen people use the fountain as intended – to drink from.

I can only imagine the utter repulsion of the poor souls who wanted a quick sip at the moment without going to polar ends of the floor to do so and encountered that nonsense. I know I shuddered at the thought.

So typical me, printed a sign and taped it above water fountain: This is not a dish rack. It is a working water fountain. Just because YOU don’t drink from here does not mean others do not.

The fact that I saw the dishes, got annoyed, created and printed the sign and the items were still there when I returned to the fountain to post said sign proved its need for it (in my humble opinion – and some of you know how humble my opinions are). Sign printed and posted I forget about it.

When I left for the day I pass the fountain and note the dishes are gone, but the sign remained. Only now in tiny print in a corner was scrawled Oops Sorry. This morning the sign was gone.

I have no idea if the offender knows I posted the sign. Unless I see the person with the mug I will have no idea of the offender’s ID.

I do have an idea that at least that person will not be so presumptuous about turning fountains into personal dishracks.

Day 4 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up this Friday!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

A Job and A Title

Posted on by
10

One morning I was given a job. It came with a title.

I knew it was going to be a demanding one. I had read and been told so much about how to do the job. Watched others. None of it prepared me for it. Because in spite of all the advice, I learned the job on the fly. There were far too many days when I had no idea what I was doing, even less of what I was going to do next.

Not going to lie, there were days where I know I messed up royally. And while even now, after holding this position for decades, I still sometimes question my abilities for this job. I do the job anyway. Most days I think to myself, I’ve done my best, I continue to do my best and it’s not a bad job at all.

One morning I was given a job. It came with a title.

And unlike marriage, it’s a job and a role that not even death can part.

The job: parent. The title: Mother.

Over recent years I am, or have been, the emotional parent of sorts to several, not even close to being called children, a few of whom who refer to me in matriarchal terms.

I am the biological mother of two.

But only one can be my first.

One morning I was given a job. It came with a title.

No, that’s not accurate. I wasn’t given a job and a title.

One morning, a bundle was placed in my arms, and I was honored with the job and title for the very first time.

Sometimes I swear that morning was just yesterday, a week ago at the most.

Happy 40th Birthday, my first sun.

Day 3 of 31 – Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up today!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

Dynasty Circa NYC Mode

Posted on by
11

The subway, again being the subway this morning, I was put off my train. At least this time I was at a good transfer point where I easily had choices and was able to move without my St. Jude of the MTA beacon turning on.

The previous train had the heat turned up to lava, so by the time I transferred to another line my coat was wide open. Though the clothing rules have been more or less relaxed to business casual at work, I own suits, look damn good in them, and choose to wear them. Thus I was in full Raivenne in the City stride as I sauntered into a surprisingly only semi crowded car, which is eons better than a semi-empty train car, that was empty for all the bad reasons a subway car during NYC rush hour can be.

As I start to scan for where I want to sit, I hear a very bad Humphrey Bogart impression from a very familiar voice.

“Oh hell! Of all the subways in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine!”

I encounter a colleague who now works in a different location. Though we have kept touch via phone and email, we have not seen each other in person in nearly two years (stupid Covid!). We have always had a wonderful joke-flirt-tationship, so for him to pick right up and greet me as such is a delightful surprise to say the least.

“Oh that line is only worthy if you’ve got gin to serve up in this joint.” I grin as as I see him and approach in full Domonique Devereaux mode. [Kudos to all of you who do not have to look that up.] “Dashing as always, darling. So, tell me – do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you have gin to serve up in this joint, of course. Do keep up, Blake.*”

“It’s not even 7am!” he exclaims.

“Unfortunately, true in this time zone at the moment, but…” the adage of it’s 5’oclock somewhere so clear in the silent ellipsis there was no need for the words to be spoken.

“Oh God!” he laughs.

“Yes?” I smile benignly to my devotee. “How may I help you?”

“I completely forgot how modest you are not. You don’t think much of yourself do you?” he laughs, well used to my antics.

“Darling please! Most women know those days when everything is working for her – hair- war paint – clothes – all on point. Even the most homely and humble feeling of women will honestly acknowledge to herself now and again that she may be “pleasing to the eye” on a given day. I have a full length mirror at home; I know what I am working with. And let’s face it, I’m as humble and homely as I am skinny and white**. Now where’s my London Dry?”

Please note this exchange is happening on a NYC subway to the amusement of all within earshot.

Idle curiosity made me look it up and at the time of this writing it is coincidently after 5pm in Casablanca, Morocco. Alas, I am not on holiday and do need to prep for yet another meeting that should be an email – thus my thirst for gin remains unquench – for the moment.

Here’s looking at you in spirit Bogey and Ingrid.

Time in Casablanca, Morocco 5:09:32pm, Wednesday, March 2, 2022

*Blake is not his real name. Since my mind was in full Domonique Devereaux of “Dynasty” mode as I teased with him it felt apropos to use here.

**For those of you readers who don’t know me (and why the hell don’t you! Read my About Raivenne page dammit!), I am big bodacious beautiful black woman.

Come see how the rest of us are slicing it up today!

15th Annual Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

And You Wonder Why

Posted on by
2

One day we’re born and someday we’ll die
In between we count the days that pass
And you wonder why I rather be alone and high

I was cool on my own just your average guy
they say get someone have fun in the grass
One day we’re born and someday we’ll die

You like in nice things you say really sly
But the bills don’t pay themselves I sass
And you wonder why I rather be alone and high

But I’m never home is your next battle cry
It’s two jobs to keep up home, clothes and gas
One day we’re born and someday we’ll die

I say how about you give working a try
And oh look how quick your insults amass
And you wonder why I rather be alone and high

Took a decade before I waved goodbye
Ah the peace of not dealing with your ass
One day we’re born and someday we’ll die
And you wonder why I rather be alone and high

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 20

Having a little fun on 420 with another very loose Villanelle

Yet to Be

Posted on by
4

Who am I to be? I deign not to ask

A decision not mine to make alone

An ovarian joins to complete that task

I lay dormant in a state of my own

Not yet of flesh, sinew or even bone

I’m half the potential that’s yet to be

For now frozen in anonymity

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 13 brings hope of life in a Rime Royal

The Rime Royal or Rhyme Royal stanza consists of seven lines, usually in iambic pentameter. The rhyme scheme is ABABBCC.

Coming of Aging

Posted on by
2

I’m not questioning Mother Nature deciding
That the zipper of my favorite jeans parting
Is the result to my refusal of publicly farting

Father Time’s clock’s jingling, its hand landing
On where my body temp starts its constant revising
Between suddenly dropping and suddenly rising

Miss Clairol’s been looking more and more inviting
‘Cause not a word you say will be convincing
When the grays come in packs, I’ll be rinsing

Elastic is my friend while I’m weighting
And I carry a fan or a cloth for wiping
I’m content for now to cease my griping

I’m in no way catering to the act of aging
I’m simply deciding that the act of coping
Is more preferable than the act of moping

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 9

I’m taking a trip down the lighter side of life even as I acknowledge that my trip is more like a prat fall – enjoy!

And today’s poetic form I tackle a Tritina

The tritina is a reduced version of the sestina written in iambic pentameter, which uses 3 repeated end-words (i.e. the final word of each line is repeated as the final word of each line in subsequent stanzas, just in a different order) and 3 three-line stanzas with a concluding one-line coda that must contain all three repeated words in order of their original appearance. The pattern/order of the repeated end-words is:

a
b
c

c
a
b

b
c
a

a–b–c

Pick-a-Laugh

Posted on by
Reply

Is a distinguished hearty-har,
More fun than a simple guffaw?
Care to tell a chortler
Their tones are that of titterers?
The ground rule is a simple one:
The volume rises with the fun!
Come point out an open chuckle
From sniggers that burst a buckle.
But pick a laugh it’s yours to call
‘Cause I’m about to slip and fall!

Cartoon woman laughing

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 8 brings some giggles.

There’s One In There After All

Posted on by
5

Just because I’m presumin’
That I could be kind of human
If I only had a heart
— Jack Haley [The Tinman] / “Wizard of Oz”

I so often joke about the black hole, empty echo of space, where my pulmonary organ should be. Today I proved the utter fallacy that jest. At least the physical manifestation of said organ, though the emotional/psychological variant thereof may still be in question.

I chose today to finally get around to filing my taxes. I have never filed taxes this late before, even when I owed the IRS. No idea why I chose this year to be so lackadaisical with it, but C’est la vie. I mentally chastised myself for it and got down to business. I file online and it took the little over an hour the it usually takes to get it done. All was fine until I needed to verify myself by providing the document numbers on my state ID or license. I have a lot of things memorized – that is not one of them. So off I go to my bedroom to retrieve my purse and wallet.

Bedroom? Check. Purse? Check. Wallet? Wallet? Bueller? [insert Ben Stein followed by tumbleweed and crickets here.]

Oh! DUH! I didn’t use my purse yesterday. I must have…

…dropped it on the console when I came in? Nā.

…forgot it in my jacket pocket when I hung it up? Nee.

…placed it on the dining table? Nein.

…left it on the bed before it was made and it’s under the cover? Non.

…put it inside the drawer when I took off my jewelry? Nyet.

[That’s a negative in Bengali, Dutch, German, French and Russian for those who weren’t curious.]

Let’s just say I cycled between languages, rooms and locations in said rooms. I bought the wallet in a bright color so that, though small, it stood out among things and be easy to see. So why couldn’t I see it? I even checked the refrigerator, okay? Each negative added to the increased panic. Was I wrong, did I lose it while I was out and it’s all GONE? I was daunted by all the things I’d have to replace in my wallet: credit cards, ID cards, insurance cards, etc. All while being simultaneously glad that while I have most memorized; I also have photo copies of everything, including contact info, so I could begin that arduous process.

Forty-five minutes, and do not ask about the state of my bedroom, later. I plopped down in the club chair in my living room, head lowered in hands, another maybe fifteen minutes from tears of frustration when I spy a splotch of bright colored leather wedged between the side of the sofa and the broken paper shredder waiting to be picked up for refuse. That was when I remembered I had laid my jacket there before I hung it up, not knowing my wallet had fallen out and slipped down but did not make it to the floor I had checked.

The resulting emotional WHEW! was when I noted the palpations that began to ease. I hadn’t noticed as my heartbeat ratcheted up in my increasing panic, but I sure felt the release valve engaged. And me, being me, only had one thing to say for myself as I finished my taxes and put the rooms Hurricane Raivenne ransacked to rights:

I’ll be damned – there’s one in there after all!

Slice of Life logo

Slice of Life Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers

A Little White One or 10…

Posted on by
Reply

Fibbing Friday is a weekly exercise in bending, stretching, breaking, and outright ignoring the truth. Want to play along? Just answer the questions below in as fanciful a manner as you see fit. Just remember to fib. Tag your less than honest answers as “Fibbing Friday”. Yes, I’m a day late, but it was too silly to pass up.

  1. Who was the first cartoon character created by Walt Disney? Fritz the Cat
  2. What is Stan Lee most known for? Husband of Sara, founder of Sara Lee Cakes.
  3. What is the difference between anime and manga? Anime is another name for pound cake and as manga is for Tiramisu.
  4. What comic sleuth is often credited with inspiring/predicting the smart watch? Inspector Gadget
  5. Who is Batman? Pinky, from Pinky and the Brain.
  6. What is the source of Green Lantern’s power? Sniffing mimeograph machines.
  7. What villainous is Dr. Otto Gunter Octavius better known by? Ursula, the Sea Witch
  8. Miazaki Hayao is credited with co-founding what animation studio? Macromedia/Adobe Flash
  9. Ponyo is considered to be a Japanese variation of what fairy tale? The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
  10. What is the purpose of the website, Cruncyroll.com? Cheaper competitor to Tootsie Roll; except no one is quite sure exactly what flavor is Cruncy.
“Fibbing Friday”