Savage Beatings. And a Joke

I was going to post this entry yesterday but somehow I broke blogger.

I am sorry.

This week was a fairly regular routine of eating, working, sleeping and reading contest entries. I’ve gotten through a first read and am about to go through them a second time. I have four that stand out as superior stories for me. That being said, I’m sure that Laurita will have four different ones that SHE likes and Ellen will have four different ones for which she will emphatically support and administer savage beatings until we agree with her.

This is not me.

To counter this, I have been hitting the treadmill to build up stamina for what I’m sure will be a spirited debate with my associates to pick a winner for the Lost on the Rock Contest for 2011. I recently signed up for Tae Bo classes in a local gym, thinking it would help me get the upper hand on the lovely ladies. Sadly, when I arrived at the class I discovered it was Tie-Bow…a class where elderly gentlemen get assistance and training on how to create a proper cravat. The women will probably kick my ascot...but at least I will look simply maaaavelous (said like Billy Crystal, of course).

The chuckle of the day yesterday goes to Cathy Webster at her blog Life on the Muskoka River where she presents her “Ode to Lost Dryer Sheets.” If you missed it, it's hilarious and a must read.

And speaking of funny tales…corporate HQ back in Ontario recently held a contest to submit the best joke. The winner was guaranteed extra rations of bread and water. I didn’t bother to enter because I can’t compete against the combined wit of the drafting office. Besides, I could stand to lose a bit of weight. I present the winning entry below.


“For several years, a man was having an affair with an Italian woman. One night, she confided in him that she was pregnant. Not wanting to ruin his reputation or his marriage, he said he would pay her a large sum of money if she would go to Italy to secretly have the child. If she stayed in Italy to raise the child, he would also provide child support until the child turned 18. She agreed, but asked how he would know when the baby was born. To keep it discrete, he told her to simply mail him a post card, and write 'Spaghetti' on the back. He would then arrange for the child support payments to begin.


One day, about 9 months later, he came home to his confused wife. 'Honey,' she said, 'you received a very strange post card today. 'Oh, just give it to me and I'll explain it later,' he said. The wife obeyed and watched as her husband read the card, turned white, and fainted. On the card was written: 'Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti. Three with meatballs, two without. Send extra sauce!!!!”