S’no Day

She: “C’mon, slugabed, I’ve got to go soon.”

He: “Snow day.”

She: “It most certainly is day. You can see in the house without turning the lights on, and it’s before 8 AM. We might survive the winter yet.”

He: “Snow day.”

She: “Are you listening to me? It is day! Wake up before it’s over!

He: “Hang it, love, look out the window!

She: “Oh my God, it’s snowing!

He: “Like I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s no day for you to be going anyplace!

She: “But I’ve got an appointment in town! I can’t afford to miss it!”

He: “You’re driving in this?”

She: “Yeah?”

He: “Then they’re something I do want you to miss.”

She: “My appointment?”

He: “The trees that’re shooting up out of the ground while you’re trying to steer a car over it.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     

She will be out in this all day – they’re calling for up to 5 inches of the white stuff, which in this part of the world will have the impact that a two-foot blizzard would have in, like, Maine or Minnesota. She’ll probably be by to visit blogs and all sometime this evening, or tomorrow. In the meantime, tell her to be careful for me, willya?

Rockin’ Sockin’ Dinner

He: “You did good with the main course tonight, love, I don’t understand why you’re putting Tabasco sauce in it.”

She: “It’s missing something. I wanted a bolder flavor.”

He: “Really? I don’t think one of those will fit in the pot, never mind your bowl. There’s a hammer and chisel in the garage, if that will help …”

She: “It’s beef stew, not stone soup!

He: “Oh, ok. Just as well. Sandstone would be a little gritty, granite a bit flinty, and the basalt would need pepper. Anyway, thanks for dinner … Oh good grief!”

She: “What now?

He: “This sack of wild bird food you’ve got by the kitchen door here. ‘Attacks cardinals, finches, sparrows …’ What are you feeding these poor things?”

She: “That’s attRacts, dear, not attAcks. Trust me, this stuff is the attackEE, not the attackER. And at the rate the birds are going through it, it’s we who are going to be ‘poor’, not them!

He: “Do they lay carpet, hang pictures, and stuff?”

She: “What?”

He: “The birds. You said they were tackers. And if we have to do repairs on the poorhouse, we might have to use their services. I’ve always heard they’ll work for cheep.”

Dude and Dude: 16 Terabytes

“Speaking of debt, dude …”

“So help me, dude, you bring up that ‘B’ stuff again, I’m dumpin’ a whole hive on you!”

Sheesh, dude, what a don’t bee you’re buzzin’ out to be. I got a completely different question.”

“Um … yeah?”

“What’s number 9 coal?”

“You’re askin’ me, dude? The last time I heard ’bout coal was when Mom threatened to fill my Christmas stocking with it!”

“Sixteen tons of it, dude?”

“In a stocking? Where you gettin’ all this?”

“It’s an old song some of OC’s buddies ‘ve been singin’. Somethin’ ’bout broke coal miners, sounds like.”

“What? This one? Man, that’s so, like, twentieth century!

Nineteenth, even.”

“If ever a song needed updatin’ …”

“And you’re gonna do it?”

“As a matter of fact, dude …”

“What’s that music I hear all of a sudden?”

“A dude’s gotta have somethin’ to sing to, dude. Weeelll …

Wait, dude!”

“Wait why?

“I gotta dig out my earplugs, dude!”

“Philistine. Weeeell …

I was born one day with the sun in a cloud,
I picked up my laptop and I went underground.
I defragged sixteen terabytes of data so fine,
The sysadmin said (
heh) never mind.

Y’load sixteen terabytes and what do you get?
Another year obsolete and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter don’t ya call me, keep me outa the yard;
I owe my soul to my credit card.

“Hey, dude, my verse!”

“So where are my earplugs, dude?”

“Weeeeelll …

They call me an engineer but this is the rest,
Casey Jones I ain’t ’cause I’m a-chained to a desk.
But with a mouse and a keyboard baby …

“A mouse and a keyboard, dude? That’s almost as bad as the coal! Not to mention this desk-chainin’ business …”

“When did you start writin’ for Rollin’ Stone, dude? Fine, I’ll change it.”

But with a bluetooth an’ an iPad baby I’m way cool,
Give me plenty of RAM, I’m a hackin’ fool.

Y’load sixteen terabytes and what do you get?
Another year obsolete and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter don’t ya call me, ’cause then I’ll be alone;
All my friends are in the Dilbert Zone.

“Right, dude, you had your chance. Weeell …

Now some say the universe was made by a hand;
But I say the universe was made outa sand.
With instant messaging and email and the internet bill,
If Linux don’t get ya, then Windows will.”

HEY!! I’ve seen Mac OS do some pretty strange things, dude!

Y’load sixteen terabytes and what do you get?
Another year obsolete and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter don’t ya call me ’cause I cain’t go:
I ooooooo
…. ackackackACK! Dude! No fair ticklin’!

“Well, dude, ya want me to resist temptation, y’shouldn’t make silly poses like that.”

“Dude, rather than beatin’ on me, why don’t ya join me?”

“Oh, OK, dude …”

I ooooooooooowe my so …oh oh oh oh oh oooul …
To the online stooooore.

“Dum dum de dum doo de li dum.”



With sincerest apologies to Tennessee Ernie Ford.

Dude and Dude: Credit Billity

“Hey dude!”


“How do you pronounce the ‘B’ in debt?”

“‘B’ as in ‘bounce’, dude? So help me, if you bounce a check …”

“Bounce a what?

“A check, dude.”

“I don’t care where he’s from, dude. I ain’t gonna try ‘n bounce him. You think I could throw a fly out of a bar?”

“Not a dude Czech, dude! A bank check!”

“One of those paper thingies? They don’t bounce, dude. Not even if you ball ’em up do they make a ball. You even know what one looks like? I thought you paid for all your stuff online, like I do.”

“Whatever you do, dude, remember, we gotta look after our credit ratings.”

No, dude. I won’t.”


“I won’t be part of your spam schemes, dude. You want some dude to write your ‘You’ve won 1 million pounds in Welsh Lotto‘ comeons, you’ll have to get somebody else. Or do ’em yourself.”

“Dude, what are you smokin’?!? I ain’t doin’ no spam schemes!”

“But didn’t you just say that we gotta be lookin’ after our credit raidings?

“Oh fer … Dude, that’s gotta be …”

“‘B’ is right, dude. You ain’t answered my question yet. How do you pronounce the ‘B’ in ‘debt’?”

“You don’t, dude. The ‘B’ is silent.”

“It’s not an ‘N’, dude, it’s a ‘B’! An’ I wanna know what it’s there for!”

“To remind certain dudes of my acquaintance that they’re gonna get stung if they don’t pay their bills. Dude.”

“Ow …”


She: “Toast and juice?”

He: “Yes, please, that’s about all the food I can face this morning. You’re OK with this?”

She: “Why shouldn’t I be?”

He: “Well, you have been under a bit of stress lately. Trying to do too many things at once. I wouldn’t want you to get all flummoxed and put the juice in the toaster.”

She: “That would be a shocking experience, wouldn’t it? Not to worry, sweetheart, I know you like your juice chilled. Not toasted.”

He: “Thank you, love, that’s a relie … Stop!!


He: “Put .. the .. jalapenos .. back!