True, embellished and fictional stories for your amusertainment

Archive for the ‘Blog Story (BS)’ Category


While shopping last week, I overheard a woman talking on the phone with her significant other. Of course I could only hear one side of the conversation. It went like this.

Okay, so Sadie peed in the house [laughter]. That’s what puppies do.

No, I’m not coming home. You’re going to have to clean it up yourself.

Honey, remember when we talked about getting a dog and I explained that a puppy is a baby and doesn’t know anything? We both agreed that we would be willing to train a puppy.

Of course that included going to the bathroom. Did you honestly think a puppy would automatically know to go outside?

Kittens are different.

I don’t know why puppies can’t be like kittens but they aren’t.

Remember what I just said, a puppy is a baby. You wouldn’t scold a baby for peeing in their diaper because they don’t know what to do. It’s the same with a puppy. She’s a baby. She doesn’t know she shouldn’t pee on the floor until we teach her.

No, I already said that I’m not coming home to clean up the mess. You have to do it.

Just use rubber gloves and then wash your hands afterwards.

I promise that you won’t pick up any infectious diseases or get worms. It will be fine. Then take her outside and show her what to do.

No, please don’t pee in the yard. That was a poor choice of words. Take her outside and tell her to go potty. Bring a treat and if she goes to the bathroom, praise her and give her the treat.

I know she just went but remember, she’s a baby. She might have to go again.

You know what to do?

Okay, I love you too. Good luck.

When she hung up the phone, she was shaking her head, laughing and muttering under her breath. Something told me she was going to stay away from home longer than she’d originally planned.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



Car Trouble

My car was recently in the shop resulting in my house arrest for nearly a week. When the dashboard warning light indicated trouble with the alternator, I called Stephen to see if I could drive it to a doctor’s appointment. He said sure, as long as I didn’t use any accessories including the radio, lights, turn signals, windows, heater, air conditioner and brakes. I was good up until the last restriction but somehow I made it work.

When the mechanic had my car, we expected to get it back the same day but through a comedy of errors he kept it for six days. Being sequestered at home for that length of time took its toll on me. To maintain some level of sanity, I cleaned the house, decorated for Halloween and wrapped Christmas presents. I’ll admit that I didn’t keep myself very tidy because I knew no one would see me. I felt kind of like this.

Me after six days of solitary confinement

When the car was finally ready, I was a little nervous driving home because I hadn’t driven in six days. I wasn’t even sure my license was still valid and thought perhaps I should have retaken my driving exam. Fortunately it all came back to me as soon as I got behind the wheel. For me, it wasn’t like the saying “it’s just like riding a bike” because when I ride I bike, I fall over more than I’m upright. As I was driving home, smiling, using the radio, lights, turn signals, windows, heater, air conditioner and brakes, I said to myself “it’s nothing like riding a bike”.

Pedaling doesn’t help me

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


Have It Our Way

We’ve ordered from the same pizza company for over 20 years. It’s a national chain, available just about anywhere. Every time we order, we ask for extra sauce. It hasn’t been a problem until recently.

A new franchise opened in our neighborhood and they simply refuse to add extra sauce. They’ll take the order but when the pizzas arrive, they have so little sauce, they resemble cheese bread.

This last order was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Stephen called the pizza place and explained that once again, they got our order wrong. He was chastised for not calling sooner, lectured on corporate standards for extra sauce, and offered a 25% discount on our next order – the best they could do since we didn’t call sooner. All this because they got our order wrong.

This prompted me to contact customer service to let them know that they were about to lose a long-time customer. They insisted the issue be resolved locally.

We then got a call from the local restaurant. They said they were calling because corporate told them we complained. They could add extra sauce as we requested but the pizza would take longer to cook and might be underdone when we received it. (How appetizing!) They also said the toppings might slide around making the pizza look lopsided. They wanted our acceptance of these risks so we wouldn’t complain about them in the future.

We were also told our next order would be free (instead of 25% off). We were guaranteed extra sauce as long as “Mary” was working because she’s the only one authorized to let us have the extra sauce.

We’ve decided we’ll order our free pizza but our expectations of the order being right are low. Apparently this company’s motto is “Have it your way as long as your way matches our way”.

May the sauce be with you!

Your IFF,


The Impact of Fiction On Reality

I’ve been reading a trilogy by Justin Cronin called The Passage. It’s a dark story about a vampiric apocalypse, so intense that it bleeds not only into my dreams but my waking hours as well. Instead of the Walking Dead, it’s the Walking Undead.

The Vampiric Apocalypse isn’t pretty

As I was washing dishes, handling a large carving knife, the following conversation with Stephen occurred.

Looks fake

Pam: Wow. This is a huge knife. This is the kind of knife you could murder someone with. I can’t think of anyone I want to murder but if I do I’ll have to take some precautionary steps before the crime. Our knifes don’t match so we should be able to replace the murder weapon without suspicion. We’ll just have to be sure to pay cash. I would want you to buy it so I’m not implicated. Make sure you wear a hat so they can’t see your face in the security cameras.

Stephen: What?!?!?

The next morning, I woke up with a bite-shaped bruise on my forearm.

My bruise was similar to this

Pam: Did you bite me?

Stephen: What?!?!?

Pam: Here, look at my arm. Did you bite me? Because if you did and your intent was to infect me with a deadly virus, you need to penetrate the skin and this bite didn’t break the skin.

Stephen: It wasn’t me. [As if it could have been anyone else.]

I just finished book two in the trilogy and have decided to engage in some lighter reading before attacking the final book because Stephen just can’t seem to follow the conversation.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



The Toad and the Prince

The other morning Stephen came running upstairs to tell me he found a toad and needed me to take pictures. I followed him downstairs to this.

Our visitor

His body was about the size of a lemon – a small but hearty creature. Outside, before his capture, the dogs walked past him oblivious to his presence. For the few minutes he was in our custody, we admired his coloring and felt his little body, careful not to hurt him.

Such a handsome fellow

Before returning the toad to his natural habitat, Stephen suggested that I kiss him to see if he would turn into a prince. I told him I already had a prince – he brought me a toad. It was a great start to our morning.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


He looks like a prince to me


Car Ride Conversation – Yelling

I yell at other drivers. I’ve been that way for so long, Stephen has gotten used to it (he usually drives when we’re together). The phrase I use most often is “Move it *sshole!” Stephen used to be startled by my outcries and at the beginning, he thought I was yelling at him. For the most part, those days are long gone as evidenced by our recent conversation.

Pam [with great enthusiasm]: Move it *sshole!

Stephen [very calmly]: I can see it. One day there’s going to be a four way crash at an intersection and it’s going to be your fault. All the drivers will hear you and think you’re yelling at them. The police will show up and you’ll be arrested. It will be terrible.

Pam: If that happens, when the cop comes to our car, I’ll tell him I was talking to you. He’ll shake his head, pat you on the shoulder and give you a card with the number of a helpline. I’ll get off scott free.

More driving followed by silence….

Pam: Move it *sshole!

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


That’s my kind of kid!


Mistaken Identistry

I’m terrified of the dentist so I was aghast to find during my last cleaning that I had to have a cavity filled. When I arrived for my appointment, the office was undergoing construction, causing an elevated noise level in the waiting room.

After a few minutes, an assistant came out and called a name. I stood up and, over the noise, asked if she said “Pam”. She nodded so I followed her. As I started to settle into the torture chair, the assistant said that I wasn’t due for full x-rays for a year. I agreed and then reminded her that I needed gas. She looked confused and repeated “you need nitrous?”. I emphatically said yes to which she replied “for a cleaning?”. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right – my last cleaning was two days earlier.

A moment later, my dentist walked by, did a double-take, and exclaimed – “hey, what are you doing with my patient?”.  I started laughing and rose from the chair. The assistant, still confused, looked at me and said “Mary?”.

We walked back to the waiting room and when the next assistant came out, I made sure she was looking for me. I didn’t want to experience another instance of mistaken identistry.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


I must love myself a lot because I’m always laughing at me

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