Shopper Glug to the Rescue ... by C.L. Beck

Stories and Humor to Make You Laugh by C.L. (Cindy) Beck
Tags: lifestyle, humor


Photo © sxc.hu/hortongrou


Not long ago I wrote about how I tried to glue my armpits together using Super Glue. Well, okay, it wasn't that I actually tried to do that because only a nut would intentionally glue her armpits closed. But, since that particular incident was just one of several with the stuff, you'd think I would've been extra careful about where I put the bottle....

The other night we were lying in bed, and I heard what sounded like an otherworldly moan. Sitting straight up, I looked around the room for ghosts. Seeing none, I checked out Corky Porky Pie, the dog. He lay asleep on the floor, and although his legs were kicking like he was chasing something, I doubted it was the ghost in question.

"Ooooohhhhh." The voice moaned piteously, with an inflection that sounded almost familiar. I waited, hoping the voice would give up and go to sleep.

"Oooooohhh, ooooohhhh, ow."

I rolled over and looked at my hubby. "What's the matter, Russ?"

He grimaced as if dying, and I wondered if he was having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or maybe bad gas. At his age, anything was possible.

"My leg has been injured somehow. Did you forget to chew off your toenails this week and have you accidentally sliced my leg from kneecap to ankle? It hurts terribly."

Scrunching up my face at the insulting idea that a woman as classy as I would chew off anything other than her fingernails, I tried to remain compassionate. "No, I didn't do it. Maybe you scratched yourself with your own toenails. Let me take a look and see if it needs a band-aid."

Russ turned on the light and moved back the covers on his left leg. I looked closely, saw nothing, and asked, "Where is it? I see a hairy leg, but no cut."

He rolled his eyes in what I thought was pain. Or maybe he had lint in his eye. Then again, it might have been cataracts. At his age, anything was possible.

He pointed to a spot halfway between his knee and ankle, and I inspected it thoroughly. Well, as thoroughly as I could, considering my glasses lay on the nightstand instead of perched on my nose. "There's nothing there," I announced, and then started to roll back over.

"No, it's there. You just didn't look hard enough," he groaned, bending his leg so he could point to the problem.

If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that men are big wimps. Women can go through 24 hours of labor and then get up, nurse the newborn, straighten the house and fix a gourmet meal for ten.

A guy stubs his toe and he requires bed rest for a week.

I put one eye right down on Russ's bent knee, narrowly missing a stab in the eyeball with a leg hair. "Oh yeah, I kinda see something that looks like a little irritation. Let me go get that bottle of liquid bandage that I just bought, and in no time at all you'll feel better."

A few seconds later, I came back with it, brushed the liquid on his miniscule cut, and then blew on it so it would dry. "There, it should feel a lot better. Now go to sleep."

Russ half straightened his leg and with a scream that sounded more like a cat caught in a trap than a man with a tiny boo-boo, he leaped out of bed and hopped in circles. Probably from the pain. Or maybe for exercise. Then again, it might have been from Tourette's Syndrome. At his age, anything was possible.

"What did you put on there?" he said, through gritted teeth. "That isn't a band-aid; it's something that's pulling all the hairs off when I try to straighten my leg!"

I cocked my head. Liquid bandage didn't usually do that. I put on my glasses and looked at the small bottle. "Ummm ... yup, liquid bandage all right."

Russ grabbed it from me. I tried to grab the bottle back, but he held it behind him with one hand and reached for his glasses with the other. Pushing them on lopsided, he closed one eye, squinted with the other, and tried to get the words in focus. Finally, he said, "Shopper Glug?"

I laughed, straightened his glasses for him and said, "Read it again." In retrospect, I realize I shouldn't have done that. No, not laugh. Straighten his glasses so he could read.

"Super Glue," he read slowly. "Are you telling me you put Super Glue on my leg, thereby super-gluing my leg hairs together?"

I shrugged and tried my best to put on an innocent-little-girl expression. "Yes, but it was an accident. I didn't have my glasses on and I thought it was liquid bandage."

Russ spent the rest of the night rubbing at the glued hairs on his leg in an effort to loosen the stuff so it didn't pull. By morning, he had a bald spot there, but at least I could see that he really did have a cut. Albeit, a small one.

And I figure he should count himself lucky ... at least I didn't glue his armpits together.


------"Shopper Glug to the Rescue" © 2011 C.L. (Cindy) Beck------


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Hammocks for Two ... by C.L. Beck

Stories and Humor to Make You Laugh by C.L. (Cindy) Beck
Tags: summertime, fun, humor, hammock



Nothing's more fun than being in the woods in the summer. It's peaceful. And calm. Very calm. Maybe a little too calm, so I decided to put up the hammocks in hopes of generating some variety to the peace and quiet.

Now let me explain. There's only one right way to get into a hammock. I back up to it, grab it and spread the material out underneath my little derrière, then sit on it as if it's a chair, while swinging my legs up onto it. Aaahh, yes. Comfort.

Naturally, as soon as I moved myself into pre-launch position at the hammock's side, Russ decided to give instructions on the proper method. "That's not the way you do it. You'll end up falling out. You should step over the hammock with one foot so that you're straddling it. That way the hammock will stay open and you won't fall when you sit in it."

Humph. "I've been sitting in hammocks this way for years and trouble has never even batted an eye," I said, sending a look of superiority in his direction.

Naturally, Russ just raised his eyebrows in that non-verbal way that says, "I know better."

I shot back a look that said ... well ... never mind what it said. Suffice it to say we both proceeded to get into the hammocks in our own unique ways. Except mine was right and his was wrong.

Lying next to each other in a shady glen, listening to the birds chirping and the scent of wildflowers wafting on the air is a lovely experience. I wouldn't know that for a fact, though, because Russ started swinging and banging into me in a version of something that could only be called, "Bumper hammocks."

After enjoying the camaraderie—which really meant I was tired of losing at bumper hammocks—I decided it was time for something else. I opened the bag of cheese puffs, and threw a few at Russ—a game I liked immensely since I was the only one with a bag of puffs. I wiped the cheese dust from my hands onto a napkin and threw that at him, too. Then I said for his edification, "When one does hard work, such as throwing snacks at one's spouse, it always makes a body thirsty. I think I'll get some juice."

I left the hammock, walked over and poured big glasses of icy, cold orange juice, but when I arrived back at the hammocks, my brilliant brain quickly spotted a problem. It's impossible to hold two glasses of liquid refreshment, take off shoes, and sit down in a hammock at the same time.

I handed Russ's glass to him. "Here, take this." He took it and promptly started sipping and reading a book. Yes, it's true; he can do both at the same time.

Sidling up to my hammock, I switched the glass of juice to my left hand so I could undo my shoes with my right, and prepared to enter the hammock. The right way. Backside first.

My mama didn't raise no dummy—I glanced behind to be sure the hammock was really there. After all, it would never do to have Russ proven right about the way to get into the hammock. It sat there unopened and only about an inch wide. But hey, sitting down would take care of that. Holding my glass high, I sat on the inch-wide strip of fabric.

The hammock swung out from beneath me; I flipped over backward and flew through the air, the glass still clutched tightly in my hand.

"Ohhhhhh," Russ said with a gasp. I felt certain it was out of concern for my little derrière, but it could have been a gut reaction from the sixteen ounces of ice-cold juice that flew from my cup and splashed in his face.

As I lay on the ground, legs sticking up in the air, and an empty glass in my hand, I heard Russ say, "See? I told you that you're supposed to straddle a hammock to get in it. I hope you're all right, though, because I have orange juice in my eyes, so I can't see to get over there and help you up."

I looked at him. His glasses appeared to have a bad case of orange measles. His white T-shirt looked like someone had tie-dyed it orange, and his book had splotches all over the page.

To make a long story short, I finally managed to get up, all the while explaining that there was nothing wrong with the way I tried getting into the hammock. It all happened because I was taking off my shoes. Because the hammock was getting old. Because I had cheese puff dust on my fingers. Because Mars and Venus were in the eastern sky.

None of those reasons convinced Russ. We hung his shirt on a tree and it took two hours to dry. But, the interesting part was getting the sticky stuff off his arms and face. I held the water jug over his head and poured ice-cold water over him. Yes indeedy, if there's one thing I'm good at when we go up to the woods, it's bringing plenty of cold water. That and I excel at getting into hammocks.

Now the major question is this ... will Russ refuse to visit the woods ever again?

Naw, I don't think so. Why would he do that when it's so peaceful and calm?


------"Hammocks for Two" © C.L. (Cindy) Beck------


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Fun with an Otter

Stories and Humor to Make You Laugh by C.L. (Cindy) Beck
Tags: fun, humor, otter


This video is so cute that it's guaranteed to bring a smile. At first it's tempting to think the otter isn't really playing with the child, but watch it all the way through and it'll become obvious he really is.



Drop off a comment and let me know if you've ever had a similar experience with a wild animal. My hubby met a deer that wanted to play games with him once, but Russ turned into a party pooper when he discovered it involved antlers!

(A thank you goes to Niid Raun, who posted this on her Facebook page for others to enjoy.)

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