Ted and Trudy

Ted and Trudy had been married forever; four years, in fact. Each still said he or she was in love. Still, each found himself or herself dreading the drive home after work.

Their marriage counselor tried. “What you need is to find and speak each other’s love language,” she said.

Ted and Trudy tried.

Physical intimacy didn’t touch on the issue. Spending quality time together made the evening drag on and on. Neither received gifts presently. Words of affirmation didn’t speak to either of them. And we won’t even mention how self-absorbed each became when performing acts of service.

It wasn’t until Ted finally snapped and complained about it all that Trudy felt an unexpected spark.

“Ooooh. Say that again, Ted,” she cooed.

Ted blinked. “Uhhh… the counselor’s charging way too much for something that’s not working?”

“Yes, Ted! Yes! What else isn’t working?”

“Uhh…” he thought for a minute. “That plumber we hired this morning was late, incompetent, and left a mess.”

Trudy sat up and perked up. “What else??”

“No one knows how to drive anymore?” He was starting to get excited as well.

“Yes! Yes!”

“Whenever I go shopping, I can’t ever find a good clerk! How difficult is it to know where the polos are?”

“Ohhh, Ted.” She drew right up to him. “What else?”

“The governor’s an idiot and this country’s being run by imbeciles!”

“YYYYYESSSSS!”

…..

Their counselor was surprised to see them practically bouncing at their next (and last) appointment.

“We did it!” Trudy gushed. “We found our love language!”

“Oh?” the counselor asked, intrigued. “Which is it?”

Ted and Trudy looked at each other, smiled; then, in unison, answered, “Complaining!”

©2021 Chel Owens

Kelly’s Shopping Trip

Kelly was claustrophobic.

Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com

Of course, she didn’t know that. She didn’t even know what claustrophobic meant.

Not-very-blissfully unaware, she simply avoided the subway, most alleyways, rooms without two exits, corners, small grocery stores, compact cars, buses, airplanes, and -for her entire life- the game of Hide and Seek.

It was when Kelly mentioned how even seeing skinny jeans made her hyperventilate that a sales clerk clued her in. “Skinny jeans make everyone short of breath,” he explained, “Especially those wearing them.”

Kelly smiled in relief, purchased a muumuu, and walked the five miles home to her open floor plan house. She felt happy.

©2021 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 6/30/2021

Better late than never, here is the winner of the last A Mused Poetry Contest before my annual summer sabbatical! Which amazing poet encapsulated eccentricity the best? (Warning, for those who are prudish, to skip this one 😀 )

Untitled, by Matt Snyder
Hi twiddily Dee hi twiddily Doe
I prance about and give it a go
Wearing nothing but
a well placed sock down below
my backside and top bits bask
about in a moonlit glow

hi diddle Dee hi diddle Dee do
with top hat and monocle
and a touch of class
How dare you speak of my big fat
ask me now I say to thee
I am but a man full of dignity
of Grace of flair
who cares if my sock is my frontal
Underwear

A middle e and a middle o
like a great cat’s meow
I must go
but not first without
leaving you with a taste of my riches
I remove my sock
to reveal my delicious
solid gold coc….
Sorry gotta keep
the end PG
for the poetry Mrs 😉

Congratulations, Matt! You are the funniest poet for the month!

From such a talented pool of writers, Matt’s poem stuck out to me …erm, that is- it pushed ahead… hm. Let’s just say I laughed the most, shall we?

Eccentricity’s a tough one to define, but not so tough to write cleverly about -at least for these poets:

Moon Dancing, by Frank Hubeny
The night sky is clear and the full moon is bright.
It’s nutty I know but I’ll dance in its light.
The moon doesn’t care. “Yes, I do.” Well, so what?
“You’re nutty enough.” No, I ain’t. “You’re a nut.”

An Eccentrics Guide To Lightening Up / Or; Go With The Flow, by Obbverse
A rare precious few view me as being one of a kind,
Far more as possessed of a most peculiar singular mind,
One gloomy psychiatrist classified me as slightly neurotic,
A better one called me, far more politely, simply quixotic.

Some call me eccentric, but that ain’t fair,
I prefer to think I think outside the square,
Others say my view on reality is a tad murky,
They say I’m ‘way out there,’ I’d say ‘quirky.’

The true eccentric is hard to define,
The clued-up eccentric rides a fine line,
It’s best to keep eccentricities on the down low;
Tone it down bro, or up to Bellvue you’re bound to go.

Some admit they think outside the box,
I don’t… wish to submit to electric shocks,
So, Doc, if eccentricity’s in the eye of the beholder
Just call me quietly eccentric- I don’t wanna smoulder.

Pickin’ a winner, by Michael Fishman
I feel an urge!
There’s something to purge!

I can’t tell it’s size
without a poke and a prise.

Is it soft as a sock
or as hard as a rock?

I won’t know a where, a what or a why
until I reach in and wiggle and try.

~~~~

I pick my nose.
And so it goes.

What’s that you ask?

Well —

It was yellow and green
it was curled up and dried;
and if I ate it or not
is up to you to decide.

I know it’s kind of gritty,
my slightly odd eccentricity.
And though it’s not so pretty,
I hope you won’t dismiss-a-me

Shopping Al Fresco, by Hobbo
When shopping for food
She always went nude,
A decision eccentric, if rash,
But the girl was no fool
And though sometimes cool,
She was never again stuck for cash.

—–

I plan to continue the contest once I return. Enjoy your summer (or winter) in the meantime!

Matt, here’s the slightly inaccurate badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

I Cannot See My Feet No More

I cannot see my feet no more;
I think they’re down there, on that floor
-Which also rests beyond my view
And holds those ‘lusive things called ‘shoes’-
…And more than bumbling me can know;
I oomph and eeek on stumbling toe.

It ’tisn’t fair, I amble, sigh;
Lamenting loss of pedi-sight.
That, as my motivation stops,
As belly button pokes and pops,
That I can’t see feet, floor or toe —
‘Cause I just dropped some cookie dough.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

©2021 Chel Owens

Heeeere’s Chel, out loud!

*I’ll post the results of the A Mused Poetry Contest tomorrow. Go ahead and enter if you haven’t yet; the judge clearly hasn’t had time to look at all the entries!*

The A Mused Poetry Contest 5/29/2021 – 6/26/2021

It’s, once again, way past time for our A Mused Poetry Contest. Better late than never!

  1. The Theme is a silly poem about an unusual eccentricity. In my ‘free time’ that is completely nonexistent, I’ve (still) been ploughing through In Search of the English EccentricFoibles, personal oddities, and strange collections abound.
  2. I recommend keeping the poem’s Length to fewer than 200 words, but who am I to suppress a slightly mad creative mind?
  3. I also recommend Rhyming but see the caveat, above.
  4. Rating: PG-13. Some eccentrics delve into less …acceptable behaviors of a less modest nature. If you wish to rhyme about such a one as this, allusions will be your friend.
  5. Above all, maintain a sense of levity. An unusual dignity, yes; but humor as well!

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (June 26) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to retain anonymity until results are posted.

Otherwise, include your poem in the comments, link to it in the comments, or leave a note that you’ve written one and stuck it on your own site in the comments. You cannot just link back to my post because WordPress is stupid and I will not receive it.

—–

—–

©2021 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 5/14/2021

The results of this month’s contest are a titch late, due to the family all coming down with colds. Believe you me: nothing takes the amusement out of amusing poetry like not sleeping nor feeling well.

But, we’re here to talk about politics! Who, among the entrants, came up with the funniest campaign promises?

A Sitting Member, by Bruce Goodman
A vote for me is a vote for wit
The other candidates are a pile of nonsense.

I promise I will never quit
The other candidates are a pile of rubbish.

My policies will be a hit
The other candidates are a pile of drivel.

I will lower your taxes a bit
The other candidates are a pile of gobbledygook.

You might think I’m a git
The other candidates are a pile of malarkey.

Congratulations, Bruce! You are once again the funniest poet for the week!

Bruce won for some sort of reference to some sort of word that seems to be missing as part of this rhyme. Well done.

And, well done to the others! Read them over and decide if they’re worth the vote:

Brief Campaign Announcement, by Frank Hubeny
It doesn’t matter, blue or red.
Vote as you will, alive or dead.
We own what counts, both big and small.
We’ve voted for you after all.

Truth Over Facts, by Dumbestblogger
No one pays a dime
Peace will reign sublime
Children will be fine
We will fix the clime
And you’ll be happy

Campaign Disaster, by RuthEK
There once was a campaign disaster-

When she said “I’ve heard nasty chatter”

The politician turned red

And said with some dread

That’s chatter that just doesn’t matter

—–

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Come back tomorrow for the next month’s prompt!

Bruce, here’s that ol’, inaccurate badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

Laughter is the Best Way to Cause Concern

I’ve admitted to a quirkier sense of humor in the past. Still, I always assumed my observations of humor were mostly in-bounds. I’m marginally morbid. Hardly ever profane. Rarely inappropriate. Never crude.

Yet, one of my coworkers admitted to her reassuring the others on the interviewing panel that I was being funny. She understood, but wasn’t certain they did.

Clearly, since I’m now writing about this, I’m stupefied. Bemused. Disconcerted! How long have others not understood that I meant what I said to be taken lightly? How often does this happen?

Am I funny?

I find myself funny…

I guess I should’ve listened when my mother described my sense of humor as ‘strange.’ Or, when a few blogging friends admitted surprise at my ‘wit.’

*sigh*

Have you had this happen? What did you conclude? Have you started attending Amusers Anonymous meetings as a result?

Photo by Elle Hughes on Pexels.com

©2021 Chel Owens

The A Mused Poetry Contest 4/17/2021 – 5/14/2021

It’s past time for another A Mused Poetry Contest. I blame the management. And aliens.

  1. This month’s Theme is a political campaign slogan and/or speech. You’ve heard the usual promises, mud-slinging, and appeals to special interest groups -now, USE THEM.
  2. Gone are the days of the Lincoln/Douglas debates; keep your poem’s Length brief and snappy enough to… oh, man; you’ve already lost the audience.
  3. Rhyming is up to your campaign manager.
  4. This will be broadcast to general audiences, so keep the Rating clean -or, at least realize that some ****ing ****s will be censored.
  5. What’s most important? HUMOR! When do we want it? By next month!

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (May 14) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to keep your record clean until results are posted.

Otherwise, include your poem in the comments, link to it in the comments, or leave a note that you’ve written one and stuck it on your own site in the comments. You cannot just link back to my post because WordPress is stupid and I will not receive it.

—–

Photo by Aaron Kittredge on Pexels.com

—–

©2021 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 3/16/2021

I almost didn’t make it today, but knew someone might be waiting on pins and needles to see just what sort of product one really should not purchase.

The winners who created the funniest commercial jingles are:

Untitled, by Bruce Goodman
Use our washing powder
To make chowder
It’ll clean up your guts
With no ifs or buts.

Camptown Ice-cream, by Doug Jacquier
What’s the best ice-cream in town?
Rhubarb, rhubarb.
Forget that fat old chocolate chip
Rhubarb, rhubarb
Make you run all night, make you run all day
When Mama says ‘what flavour?’, kids say everyday
Rhubarb, rhubarb!

Congratulations, Bruce and Doug! You are the funniest poets for the week!

I could not decide on a straight-out winner, so I blame my stomach for this decision. Who would agree to clean his guts with soap? What person wants to spoon rhubarb into her bowl? Craziness!

Now, please do not reach for the phone after hearing about the rest of these products:

Untitled, by Vishal D
Cute, cuddly Gremlins
Get your fluffy Gremlins
They will eat you up
with their warmth
And then look with
mischievous eyes
And sympathise with
your cries
Cute, cuddly Gremlins
Soft, furry Gremlins

Untitled, by Ian Kay
Lap cushions, lap cushions,
they don’t look half bad
put them on your fronts
if they make your backs mad!
(voiceover: matching colors and fabrics are available!)

Untitled, by Richmond Road
Are your children of an age
That’s driving you insane?
Doing things you used to do
Things you can’t explain?
Reacting to those hormones
That you wish that you still had
Taking an eternity
To traverse a passing fad?
The solution is so simple
Let us take them off your hands
Don’t let them anymore disturb
Your sweet retirement plans
Let us do the dirty work
Let us make the golden rules
Enrol your little darlings
In our exclusive boarding schools

($100,000 per annum. No questions asked. Or answered)

The newest free range breakfast food, by Doug Jacquier
Hungry, need a fix?
Weedy Bix!
Just eat five or six
Weedy Bix!
eating green’s so easy
Weedy Bix!
Weedy, weedy, Weedy Bix.

Da doo rum gum, by Doug Jacquier
When you’re at a party and the bar is dry
Chew new Booze Gum, chew new Booze Gum
You’ll be feeling tipsy in the blink of an eye
Chew new Booze Gum, chew new Booze Gum
Comes in gin, rum, whiskey and rye
Chew new Booze Bum, chew new Booze Gum

Untitled, by Frank Hubeny
Lazy daisy, gender hazy,
riot gear to drive you crazy.

Kitty-cobra, by Trent McDonald
Are you a dull bore
And make kitty snore
Buying for your cat
A stupid rubber rat
Or you think for fun
Sprinkle some catnip and you’re done?

Get some come-hithers
And buy the toy that slithers!
A mechanical snake
It doesn’t look fake!
Is the toy that’s fitten
To give your kitten!

Kitty-cobra, Kitty-cobra
Will the fun never end?
Kitty-cobra, Kitty-cobra
Your cat’s new best friend!

A Timekeeping Bargain, by Hobbo
A pain in the crotch
Life, where does it go?
With our time travel watch
You can go fast, or slow.

Set it to your own pace,
Even temporary stop.
The deluxe, will retrace,
So your clogs never pop.

Non Voyage, by Obbverse
‘Before you book that holiday apartment,
A message from the State Department-
Forget stayin’ in Paree, forgo Rome,
Let’s not fly, let’s stay home’

Madam, your passport has expired,
New detailed documentation is required,
We now demand, after your vacation
Proof positive of a Covid vaccination.

‘Before you take that holiday apartment
Please listen to the State Department,
Pass on Paris, nix to Rome
Don’t spread your wings, stay home.’

Before you’re welcome back from overseas
W’ll check you out for that spread disease,
We can’t just freely stamp that new passport,
Why risk making a happy holiday your last resort?

No Clue, by Ruth Scribbles
She wanted a jingle of sale 🏷
For things that would send you to jail 🙃
My brain could not think 🧠
Of what would not stink 💩
And this is my try just to fail 🙄

—–

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

Come back tomorrow for the next month’s prompt!

And, Bruce and Doug, here’s a badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

Secret Snitch Will Scratch That Itch!

♫ If she says, “Come here!
“My dear!
“There’s something no one else can hear!”
Think of us, and never fear:
The secret-selling championeers!

We pay top price!
We sell, rock-bottom!
And promise no one’s e’er forgotten!

A secret’s safe, till you can pay;
Visit Secret Snitch today! ♫

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

©2021 Chel Owens

There are still a few more hours to write a humorous jingle for a product that shouldn’t be sold! C’mon! It’s for the A Mused Poetry Contest.