True, embellished and fictional stories for your amusertainment

Posts tagged ‘Stephen’

Stephen’s Comedy Routine

Stephen started laughing one morning and told me he’d come up with a stand-up comic routine. By the time he was finished, I was laughing, too. Here it is.

When I was at church on Sunday, the minister opened the floor to anyone who wanted to testify. A stranger walked to the front of the sanctuary. He was disheveled, bruised up and looked like he needed a good night’s rest along with a hot meal. Our church never turns anyone away, so we all sat there waiting to see what was on his mind.

He said “Backsliding is good. Without backsliding, there wouldn’t be testifying. Nobody comes to church for the unearthly word of God, they want to hear something real. And they don’t want to hear meaningless drivel like ‘I ate an extra donut or I had bad thoughts’. They want something they can gossip about when they leave church like ‘I stole a car and used it to rob three banks, killing two guards. During my getaway, I missed the bridge and went into the river. I wandered for three days in the woods and fell asleep in the basement of this building’. Now that’s why people come to church! Can I hear an amen?”

May the farce be with you!

And also with you.

Your IFF,




The Man Cold

Last week, Stephen was home sick for several days. He spent the majority of his time unconscious – asleep in bed – so he was very low maintenance. Fortunately for me, he had the flu and not a cold. In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, the video below illustrates my concerns perfectly.

Warning: This video contains graphic information and is thus intended for mature audiences only. Viewer discretion is advised.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



Santa’s Beard

Stephen has a beard – not like Duck Dynasty-type facial hair – it’s trimmed short. I love his beard because he grew it for me when we first started dating. However, now there are times when his beard makes me look old and I don’t like that. When we were younger, Stephen’s beard was a beautiful brown but now, unless he colors it, his beard is almost entirely white. I complain and ask him to color it, but he only tends to listen before some special event…until this happened.

We were out shopping and a little girl came up to us asking if Stephen was Santa. Before he could say no, I put my finger to my lips, said “Shhh” and bent down to her level. I told the little girl that he was Santa. You could see wonder emanating from her face as magic consumed her imagination. I said that after Christmas, Santa trims his beard and changes his hair making it difficult for people to recognize him and that only very good boys and girls can see through his disguise. I told her she was obviously special and that’s why she knew he was Santa, adding how important it was to be good all year. Then I told her we had to keep it a secret. Both the little girl and her mom were beaming when we parted company. As soon as we got home, Stephen colored his beard.

The next day I called my friend, the little girl’s mother, and told her our scheming was a success!

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



Stephen's beard is even whiter now.

Ho, ho, ho – this makes Pam look old

I look so much younger standing next to this!

Pam looks so much younger standing next to this!


When Stephen and I were dating, his mom taught art classes. An excellent artist herself, Joan often said that anyone could learn to paint. As we were getting to know each other, Joan offered to teach me. I chose to paint a photograph of a barren landscape with a double rainbow. There was little detail increasing my confidence that I could paint a reasonable replica of the picture, especially with an expert like Joan helping me choose the colors. At the end of our lesson, I presented my masterpiece; it was terrible. From that point forward Joan changed her stance to almost anyone could learn to paint.

Through the years, I haven’t let my lack of ability hold me back. Following a visit to friend’s house, I tried to describe the layout to Stephen so I drew the floor plan. When I was finished with my description, Stephen looked at my drawing and started to laugh. He said it looked more like a monster than a home. He thought we should frame my “art” because it was brilliant.

Frankly, I think it looks like a mess but you can decide for yourself. I’m either terrible at drawing or a mad genius. If you think it’s the latter, watch for the original, signed drawing on ebay. I’m sure it’s going to draw a lot of interest. It will be a great investment as the value will only go up!

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


The work of a mad genius?



The Younger Woman

Stephen was born 26 days before me, so every year we go through a short period where he’s older. The day before his birthday, we had the following conversation.

Pam: Well, tomorrow’s your birthday – you know what that means? You’ll be married to a younger woman!

Stephen: ALRIGHT!!!!! (too enthusiastically)

Pam: What?!? I didn’t expect that response. (I smacked his arm – a couple of times)

Stephen: I didn’t mean anything by it. Fortunately, it doesn’t last long. Younger women can be… you know – difficult to live with.

Pam: You mean high maintenance?

Stephen: Yeah, that’s it.

Pam: We also don’t have much in common being from different generations and all.

Stephen: True. Thankfully, we should be able to relate to each other again in about a month.

I made sure Stephen had a nice birthday, but we were somewhat distant. We clearly had different interests and couldn’t get any meaningful conversation going. Fortunately, things will be back to normal in a couple of weeks.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


These were my mother-in-law's favorite photos of her first born son and grandson. Stephen is on the right.

These were my mother-in-law’s favorite photos of her first born son and “grandson”. Stephen is on the right.

Leaf Angel

Coming home from a walk around the neighborhood with the dogs, Stephen and I were admiring the fall colors.

My walking companions

My walking companions

Beautiful fall colors

Beautiful fall colors

When we came upon a large pile of fallen leaves, we had the following conversation.

Still waiting for that leaf angel

Perfect for a leaf angel

Stephen: Should I make a leaf angel – you know a snow angel but with leaves? I could do that and you could take a picture of it for your blog.

Pam: Sure. I’ll take the dogs so you can lay down.

Stephen: Well, I can’t do it now. At least not until I put on a raincoat because I don’t want to get wet. And I guess I’ll need waterproof pants. I’ll also need a waterproof hat. I’ll have to put on waterproof gloves and boots. And underwear – I’ll need waterproof underwear. You know…slugs.

Pam: Why don’t you just wrap your body in saran wrap?

Stephen: I’ll have to make the angel fast then before I run out of air.

Pam: Okay – you can leave a hole for your nose and mouth.

We didn’t talk the rest of the way home. However, our silence was interrupted by fits of laughter. I’m still waiting to get a picture of that leaf angel.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


Poe Thing

Stephen’s dad used to be the Administrator of a nursing home and assisted living facility. When Stephen was in high school, he would work at the home in the summer and after school. During the course of his employment, he ran across a semi-famous resident – the great-granddaughter of Edgar Allen Poe. I have no idea how she ended up in North Dakota assisted living, but there she was.

When Stephen knew her, she had developed a rash on her stomach. He found out about the rash when she described what happened with her doctor.

Doctor – How’s the rash?

Patient – Not good.

Doctor – Have you been using the cream I gave you?

Patient – Yes, but it tastes terrible.

Once she started rubbing the cream on instead of ingesting it, the rash went away.

In honor of her predicament and her famous great-grandfather, I’ve written this short poem.

On my stomach I was itching, using cream that should be fixing

A long time sore that I kept picking like selecting new decor.

So I ate the icky cream and I thought that I would scream

From the itching and the scratching on my core.

Then the doctor, I remember, said to rub it on the sore.

And if I do? Quoth the doctor, ‘Never more’.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


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