Dead Hookers in the Trunk…AGAIN?

Very funny encounter with an LA gangsta at the courthouse -- very friendly and informative!  #funny #ticket #court #humor

So then…I notice the guy in front of me keeps turning around to stare at me.

Normally I don’t shy away from “unwanted male attention” – (in fact, I consider “unwanted male attention” an oxymoron) – but in this case, it’s interesting because we’re in a courthouse, in line with fellow lawbreakers.

Yes, I sorta ran a red light. Yes, the traffic camera took my photo. (A rather unflattering photo, I might add. That’s the real crime here.)

Dead Hookers

And yes, I’m here to fight the $450 ticket because I KNOW the judge will want to hear the extenuating circumstances behind that violation – (AND why I was having a bad hair day.)

As I approached the light, a car was hot on my tail, so if I stopped suddenly for the yellow/orange/red light, I would have caused a crash! So I’m preparing a compelling analogy about how “sometimes you need to break a law for the greater good” – like it’s OK to jaywalk if you’re scooping up an innocent toddler who’s wandered into oncoming traffic!

(Of course, the judge might point out that my reckless red light-running could lead to the mowing-down of any innocent toddlers who ARE wandering into oncoming traffic. Ugh – judges are so judgey like that.)

So anyway, we’ve all been waiting in line for some time and the guy in front of me is restless. He keeps sneaking a look at me and I can’t help studying him as well.

He seems committed to fulfilling a specific gang stereotype – shaved head, bandana, thick muscles bursting out of his plaid shirt, low-rider jeans, and a neck tattoo declaring “T-Slash” in graffiti letters. (And lest we attribute his moniker to a fondness for the back slash key on his computer, he has helpfully inked a switchblade next to his name.)

Now you may know that I married a man who’s half Hispanic, so my kids are one-quarter Hispanic, and I love them dearly, so I mean no disrespect — but this guy’s outfit looks like it’s straight out of Central Casting for the music video “Lean Like a Cholo.”
Dead Hookers Down A.K.A. “Lean Like a Cholo” Latin Rapper Down AKA Kilo

My kids love this story, so please don’t take offense that I tell it as it happened, including the thick accent of my new friend.

T-Slash: What dey getchu for?

Me: Red light. (I hold up the photo and citation they sent me)

T-Slash: Ohhhh, dey gotcher pitcher. Dat’s four-fiddy. Cuz you went tru da light. But if you run da light and turn right, dat’s only tree-fiddy.”

Me: Wow, you know these fees pretty well.

T-Slash: Jeah – (resigned) – I come here a lot.

Me: Really?

T-Slash: Jeah – they stop me 3 times last week – ees my car.

And with that, he flips out his phone and shows me the screen saver photo of his car.

Now granted, it’s painted blue with yellow flames – and has tinted windows.

But I’m looking at him and I’m thinkin’ – “Really, T-Slash? You think they’re stoppin’ you three times in a week cuz of the car? Not the stolen guns and dead hookers in the trunk of the car?”

Really T-Slash? Really?

But of course I don’t SAY that out loud – because that would be stereotyping Hispanic gangstas. And I don’t stereotype. My kids are part Hispanic — and they don’t have stolen guns and dead hookers in the trunk of our car!  (considers that statement)  ….Um, wait. Hold on. I’ll be right back.

— Darcy Perdu

 to your Humor Board!

(Anybody else have their picture taken by those red light cameras? Does every state still allow the cops to send you a citation for that? Ever fight a ticket? Have you checked your trunk lately?)

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The awesome and hilarious Cary Vaughn from The Reluctant Cat Owner’s Journal just sent me this photo, saying “I think I stumbled upon one of T-Slash’s baby photos…”  Love it!

Dear Hookers T-Slash Baby Photo from Cary Vaughn

7 Funny Reasons the Teacher Sends My Son to the “Thinking Chair”

7 Funny Reasons The Teacher Sends My Son to the Thinking Chair #school #teacher #discipline #funny #backtoschool #humor #kindergarten #preschool

So then…I rustle through some files looking for a document, when I stumble upon a note that I wrote to my son’s pre-school teacher back when Tucker was an “energetic” 4-year-old.

Only it’s not a note. It’s a poem.

And it’s written from my son’s point of view.

And as much as he and I both loved that pre-school teacher, Tucker had some very specific thoughts about THE THINKING CHAIR.

Maybe you can relate…?

THE CHAIR
A poem for Ms. Hopkins, written by Darcy on behalf of her son Tucker, a spirited and energetic young pre-schooler

When I wash my hands – AND my friends
By squirting soap outside the sink,
You cock your head, you purse your lips,
And send me to the Chair to think.

When I can’t sit still or listen well,
Or grab cookies quick as a wink,
You roll your eyes, you sigh real loud,
And send me to the Chair to think.

When I refuse to share my toys,
And start to act like a fink,
You snap your head, point a finger,
And send me to the Chair to think.

When I talk loud at circle time,
And paint the table top bright pink,
You close your eyes, you say a prayer,
And send me to the Chair to think.

Well, Ms. Hopkins, I thought and thought
While I was sitting there,
And most of what I thought about
Was… “I do not like this Chair!”

So I will try so very hard
To do what’s right and good and fair
And hope that in Kindergarten,
There IS no Chair in there!

Thank you for your love, lessons, and discipline, Ms. Hopkins!
Love, Tucker

(Ms. Hopkins laughed out loud when she read the poem, knowing full well that Tucker’s cute little butt cheeks probably left a permanent indentation on that Chair from his frequent visitations there!)

— Darcy Perdu

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If you’re wondering if I ever needed to write the school again when my son grew older, you’ll love hearing about the big, juicy lie he told his teacher!

(Do YOU have a spirited and energetic child? Have you or the teachers ever had a Thinking Chair – or a similar technique for youngsters to “ponder their actions?” Any favorite teachers?)

For MORE hilarious parenting stories, click this little book:     

7 Funny Reasons - Small

Ravenous Businessmen and the Lone Sushi

Ravenous Businessmen and the Lone Sushi
So then…he raises his chopsticks to pluck sushi from the tray in the center of the conference table, but then realizes — it is the very last piece of sushi.

He quickly lowers his chopsticks and looks around the table at his Japanese colleagues who are all similarly eyeing the lone tuna roll. No one dares take it.

There is some shifting in the seats, some nervous twitching, and one gentleman unconsciously taps his chopsticks on his plate.

I falter a bit in my presentation as this drama unfolds. We hope to impress Mr. Tanaka and his colleagues so much that they agree to carry our automotive accessories in their line of shops in Japan. It’s a small chain, but it would be our first foray into the international market, so we’re very excited.

As I point to the next product line and discuss its success at our country’s largest retailer, I shoot a look at one of my co-workers to indicate distress over the sushi. But he’s too wrapped up in the presentation to notice.

There are a dozen of us crammed into this conference room – 6 visiting Japanese from our potential new client and 6 Americans with our company. To accommodate the varying culinary tastes of the group, we had ordered a huge tray of sushi – and a huge tray of deli meats and breads for sandwiches.

We must have underestimated the sushi portion size for the average Japanese businessman – or these guys are particularly ravenous – because they literally devour the entire tray in minutes.

I’m up here selling my ass off, trying to take their minds off their apparent starvation, but I have to tell you — there is nothing more distracting than a hungry audience.

I shoot a look at another co-worker to signal – “Feed these people; I’m dyin’ up here!” but she is oblivious.

I’m loathe to stop the presentation to address the situation because quite honestly, I don’t know where to get any more sushi anyway! Our company is out in the middle of an industrial center so there are no shops or restaurants nearby. We had to order the sushi far in advance – and now we’re out.

Finally, one of the younger Japanese businessman tentatively reaches his chopsticks over to the deli meat and bread tray. He hovers there for a moment, then zips down to snare a slice of ham.

He places it on his plate and stares at it a moment. His colleagues are transfixed on the operation. He dips the ham into the soy sauce, adds a touch of wasabi, and pops it in his mouth. He nods.

Suddenly the other 5 are fast and furious with their chopsticks and soon they are plucking up roast beef, turkey, and ham onto their plates, dousing with soy sauce and wasabi, then slurping it down.

Suddenly the sliced provolone and Swiss cheese are flying through the air, meeting a similar fate.

I can hardly keep a straight face. Who knew cold cuts and cheeses would be so appealing to the Japanese palate?

I instantly imagine a brilliant idea for a chain of deli stores for Japan!

I’d serve:

Snapper on Rye
Turkey Tuna Roll
Squid & Swiss on Sourdough
Eel Knish
Soy Sauce Salami Sliders
Corned Beef California Roll
Pastrami Sashimi, Hold the Pickles
And of course — Wasabi-Flavored Bagels!

OK the menu might need some tinkering, but clearly I’m onto something –
Our Japanese visitors are delighted with their deli discovery –
Their full attention is now on my scintillating sales presentation –
They agree to a large initial purchase order of auto accessories!

And now I’m off to invent my new chain of deli-sushi spots for Japan!
All restaurant names and menu suggestions welcome!

Arigatou!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Ever had a food shortage or food mishap at a meeting or social event? Any embarrassing presentations YOU’VE made? How about a funny story about international clients or cuisine? Bring it on!)
Ravenous Businessmen and the Lone Sushi P

I’m Possessed! (with Kathy and HER Possessed Dishwasher)

I'm Possessed!
So then…the lovely and talented writer Kathy Radigan at My Dishwasher’s Possessed interviews me!

An INTERVIEW?  I’m all atwitter! Flustered and flummoxed! It’s my moment to shine! I’m ready for my close-up!

To get a flavor for Kathy, you can see why she tells her family to “Knock Off the Penis Talk” – and “Why I Should be Allowed to Enjoy a Few Blankety-Blank Christmas Carols!” Kathy is one of the dearest, most supportive bloggers I’ve met out there in the blogosphere — a real sweetheart!

So check out her Quirky Questions – and my Awesome Answers at “Darcy Perdu’s Getting Possessed with Kathy and the Dishwasher!”

You’ll learn some behind-the-scenes info — and also enjoy some chuckles, laughs, and snorts!

— Darcy Perdu

Caught in the Act!

Young Darcy Surprised 5.25.13
So then…I slooowly slide a cigarette out of the pack in the drawer, careful not to make any noise that might alert my brothers or sisters or parents to my theft. I ease a pack of matches out — and slip them into my pocket with the cigarette, gently close the drawer, then silently slither off to my room.

Stage 1 of the Great Smoking Experiment – done!

I’m bound and determined to lose my Lung Virginity tonight!

For years, my Mom has vehemently lectured us 5 kids: “Do as I SAY; don’t do as I DO.” But surely smoking must be some magical mysterious marvel if she’s doing it 20 times a day!

Well, I’m 12 years old now and I will find out exactly what is so alluring about smoking tonight during Stage 2 of the Great Smoking Experiment.

All day long, I’m skittish as a cat on a hot tin roof, certain that everyone in the whole house must suspect my nefarious plans.

Finally, Mom drops me off at the Perkins house to babysit their two young sons. Mr. and Mrs. Perkins leave for date night, so I sweat through the next few hours with the kids – because clearly, I can’t light up while they’re still awake!

When the tykes are safely snuggled up and sleeping, I tiptoe out to the living room. I extract the lone cigarette and book of matches.

My heart is pounding. If my parents find out I smoked, they will kill me. Then ground me. Then kill me again. And I will go straight to hell. Because this is SMOKING – and DISOBEYING MY PARENTS – and STEALING. That’s the trifecta right there. Straight.to.hell.

But I MUST find out what is so amazing about this smoking thing. Why does Mom do it all the time if it’s so bad for you? Is she addicted to it? If I smoke one cigarette, will I become addicted too?

I sit on the couch, twirling the cigarette back and forth in my fingers. My knee is shaking up and down a mile a minute. I bite my lip. Should I really do this?

If I smoke this cigarette and become addicted, how will I get more cigarettes? Mom will notice if hers start disappearing.

Can I buy some when I ride my bike to 7-Eleven? Do I make enough money babysitting to support my habit? How much do cigarettes cost? Will I have to cut back on Slurpees and Heath bars?

Is smoking BETTER than Slurpees and Heath bars?

I smell the cigarette. It must be AMAZING.

I glance toward the hallway. What if the kids wake up and see me smoking? They’ll tell their parents; I’ll be fired; and they’ll tell MY parents.

I bite my fingernail. My heart is hammering.

OK, let’s do this.

I strike the match and light the cigarette. I put it to my lips. I inhale a tiny bit. Nothing.

I inhale again, more deeply. Nothing.

I inhale 3 more times. It tastes tobacco-y. And dry.

I sit on the couch, waiting for something magical or delicious or incredible to happen.

Nothing.

I hold the cigarette out and look at it hard.

Well, this is stupid.

What’s so great about this?

I take one last drag just in case the 6th time is the charm.

When suddenly, I hear a car in the driveway.

AAAAAAAAAAACK!

They’re home! They’re home!

I jump up and run to the bathroom . I throw the cigarette in the toilet and flush. Please go down, please go down!

I hear the garage door open – they’ll be here any minute! But the living room smells like smoke! And they DON’T SMOKE! So they’ll know I smoked!

AAAAAAAAAAACK!

I fling open the cabinet under the bathroom sink. There MUST be air freshener in here! Please, please, please let there be a can of air freshener! I’ll spray it EVERYWHERE!

I’ll just pretend I took a massive smelly dump. That’s much better than admitting I was SMOKING!

But there is no air freshener! The only thing I see is a big can of Raid Roach Spray!

So I grab it and run, spraying Raid Roach Spray all through the house, the hall, the living room – just as the Perkins walk in.

The overpowering foul odor of bug spray surrounds us, descending like a misty cloud all around the room.

They look at me quizzically as I stand there — wild-eyed, panting, and waving the can.

“Um, are you OK?” asks Mrs. Perkins.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I stammer. “I…uh…saw some bugs, so…uh…I sprayed them.”

“OK,” says Mrs. Perkins, as she puts down her purse. “But you know you usually spray the bugs, not just spray it up in the air, right?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” I say. I shrug and say “Pfft. Of course. Yeah, of course I know that.”

As I skulk off to the bathroom to return the spray, I see them exchange a look. A look that seems to say, “We’re entrusting our kids to this knucklehead?”

If only they knew.

I was almost a cigarette-addicted nicotine-addled smoking fiend!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Do you remember your first forbidden experiment? Was it as amazing as you thought it might be? Were you terrified of getting caught? Do tell in the Comments!)

Oh, Don’t Think I WON’T!

Oh, Don't Think I WON'T!
So then…we come barreling down the hall just as the gate agent is about to close the gangway door.

“Wait! Wait! Can we get on this flight?!” I shout.

My co-worker Teresa pleads, “Pleeeeeeeease?”

Our other 2 co-workers, Mike and Matt, are huffing and puffing so much they can’t even speak.

The gate agent looks us over – 4 young corporate kids, all in our late 20’s, with our briefcases and carry-ons hanging off our crumpled suits, as we wheeze and gasp after running through the airport.

Her face wavers between impatience to get the flight on its way – and a tiny bit of pity.

I pounce on that shred of emotion. “Oh please, we BEG of you! We RACED here after the convention, only to find out our flight was delayed cuz of snow and ice — so we booked a different flight back home, ran to THAT gate, only to find out THAT one was delayed too! So they booked us on THIS flight – but it took us FOREVER to run here from the LAST gate!”

Matt clutches his chest and leans against the wall, loosening his tie. (Not sure if he’s doing this for dramatic effect or if he’s really in distress, but it works!)

The gate agent says, “OK, OK, give me your boarding passes and get on the plane quickly.”

We hoot and holler and wave our boarding passes in the air. We scramble quickly down the gangway onto the airplane. A few people are still in the aisle, storing their bags and finding their seats.

“Thank God we made it!” says Teresa.

Mike and Matt high five each other. We’re all beaming.

Matt says, “We’re so lucky we didn’t get stranded at the airport.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I really hope they serve dinner on this flight. Cuz it’s 5 hours long and we didn’t have time to buy anything in the airport.”

Mike looks stricken. “Dammit. None of us has food?”

We all shake our heads forlornly. We haven’t eaten since the lunch of sandwiches at the convention hall — and now it’s late night.

Teresa says, “Oh, I’m sure they’re gonna serve dinner on this flight!”

She smiles optimistically. I frown skeptically.

We find our seats, stow our bags, and buckle in.

Teresa’s next to me. The guys are in the row behind us.

Later, the flight attendant comes down the aisle, dispensing drinks and dropping a little bag of pretzels on each tray table.

“Will you be serving dinner soon?” I ask.

The attendant says, “There’s no dinner.”

Teresa nearly spits out her Coke. Matt and Mike behind us say loudly, “WHAT?”

“We have pretzels,” she says. “We had peanuts earlier today, but we’re all out now.”

“Omigod, seriously?” I ask. “THIS is it? This is ALL the food?”

“Yes.”

Teresa fumbles with the cards in the seat pocket and asks, “Can we BUY food? Do you have a snack menu or something? We’ll pay! We have MONEY!”

The attendant shakes her head.

Matt calls out, “Is she saying there’s no food?”

I answer loudly, “There are pretzels!” I turn back to the attendant and ask, “Could we please have extra pretzels? We’re starving!

“No, I’m sorry,” she says. “We’re running low. What with the flight delays and cancellations, the airport’s been a mess today — we weren’t able to restock before we left.” She moves on to the rows behind us, distributing the meager fare.

I stand up, lean over my seat back, and hold the packet in front of Matt and Mike.

“Did you guys hear that? THIS is it! THIS is our ENTIRE nutrition on this FIVE HOUR flight!!”

They start laughing and Teresa joins in.

“It’s NOT funny!” I say loudly, still waving my packet around. “I.am.starving! I could eat a horse! And all they give us is this puny packet of pretzels!? I tell you what! You better hope we don’t go down over the Andes, because I will not HESITATE to eat you sorry mofos!”

I plop down into my seat, in a huff, famished and frustrated.

Just then a hand quietly reaches over the aisle and slides a packet of pretzels onto my tray.

My head snaps to the left to see who the donor is – it’s a businessman, with an expression of trepidation.

I say, “Are you sure?”

He nods vigorously.

I nod respectfully, with hooded eyes, and whisper, “Thanks, bro. If we go down, I’ll remember this.”

— Darcy Perdu

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(Ever been so hungry on a flight that cannibalism was an actual consideration? How do you feel about so many airlines abandoning the free meals of yesteryear, but offering snacks and meals for MORE MONEY? Any funny flight delay/cancellation stories? Do tell!)
Oh, Don't Think I WON'T! P

Funny Advice for Your College-Bound Kids

Best & Funniest Advice for College  #school #college #graduate #advice #funny #humor

So then…my funny, smart, gorgeous niece with long flowing blonde hair zips upstairs. I turn to my sister Della and say, “I can’t believe she’s going off to college next year! Are you worried about all those college boys? I remember how worried I was when YOU went off to college!”

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“You were a perky beautiful cheerleader! I remember saying to Mom, ‘Aren’t you worried about Della going to a coed college after 4 years of an all-girls high school?’ And Mom innocently said, ‘But she’s going to Texas Christian University.’ And I said, “Mom! Christian college boys have hormones too! You better have a serious talk with her!”

Della laughs and says, “Well, you guys gave me plenty of advice before college. Our older brother gave me a copy of the book about the Hillside Strangler and told me, ‘never date a guy with a windowless van!’ And do you remember what you told me?”

“No, what?” I ask.

“You said, ‘You have big boobs – and boys will want to touch them. So be careful.”

I laugh. “Well, that’s true!”

She says, “And our little brother told me, ‘Never run on campus.’”

“‘Never run on campus?’” I say. “What’s that got to do with college boys?”

“Nothing. He just told me, ‘No matter how late you are for class, never run on campus. You’ll look like an idiot.’”

We both laugh.

— Darcy Perdu

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(What advice did people give YOU when you went off to college? What advice will you give YOUR kids? Any words of wisdom people gave you about dealing with members of the opposite sex?)