Bad Day
Friday, April 13th, 2007 |did you ever think you were having a bad day? Trust me, it could be worse.
Archive for the ‘Humour’ Category
My MeToo Phone
Monday, January 8th, 2007 |I told you all a while back that I was one of three Trinidadians that didn’t own a cell phone. Well that changed about two weeks ago when my uncle decided to send me his old phone because he got a better one. Only yesterday did I find out that what I had was actually a “MeToo” phone”. What’s a MeToo phone? Follow the telephone conversation I had with my 14 year old cousin.
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Caris: I thought you told me you didn’t have a phone?
Me: I didn’t, but Uncle Eric sent me his old phone a few weeks ago, so I guess I own one now.
Caris: What kind is it?
Me: A Nokia
Caris: What model number?
Me: Ummmm, it says here it’s an 11….
Caris: 10? An 1110?
Me: Yeah, that’s it.
Caris: Waaaaaay. You have a real MeToo phone boy.
Me: A what sorry?
Caris: A MeToo Phone.
Me: What’s a MeToo Phone?
Caris: Daiz a phone everybody does have. When you tell somebody you have a Nokia 1110, they does say, “Me Too”.
Geez. Just the other day I was rebelling against the cell phone culture and today, I’m a cell phone owner at the bottom of the food chain - the uncoolest of the uncool. Now I need to go get myself a better phone.
Mom, there’s an alligator in my room
Wednesday, November 29th, 2006 |I got this skit from Sesame Street in my head last night and I’m still singing it today. Geez. It still makes me laugh.
Mom: (in doorway, to Gerald, who is in bed) Goodnight, dear.
Dad: (in doorway, too, to Gerald) Goodnight, Gerald. (and to the dog, on the floor beside the bed) Goodnight, Sparky.
Mom: (to Sparky) Goodnight, Sparky.
Gerald: Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad. Goodnight, Sparky.
(Door closes and lights go out. Sparky jumps up and runs to the foot of the bed where he makes a huge shadow of an alligator on the wall)
Sparky: (singing) Imagine me an alligator! (chorus in background sings “Alligator!”)
Gerald: MOM! There’s an alligator in my room!
Mom: (coming in; Sparky dashes back beside the bed) I don’t see an alligator.
Gerald: Sure, it’s not there now, but when you turn out the light, it’s there!
Mom: Go to sleep, Gerald. It’s just your imagination.
(Door closes and lights go out. Up jumps Sparky.)
Sparky: (singing) Sweet potato! (chorus: “Alligator!”) I was lookin’ –
Gerald: MOM!!!!!
Mom & Dad: (opening door; Sparky of course returns to spot) What is it?!
Gerald: The alligator! It’s back!
Mom: (leaving) Go to sleep, Gerald.
(Sparky resumes his song)
Sparky: (singing) And you came by for me to munch ya!
I’m afraid of gettin’ thinner
Won’t you please become my dinner –
Gerald: (peeking over the end of the bed) Sparky!!! It was you all the time!
(Sparky blushes and goes to sleep)
Mom: (from hallway) What is that singing?
Gerald: Oh, nothing, Mom. Just your imagination. (grins)
I found these lyrics here. But does he say “Sweet Potato” or “I eat Potato”? I always thought he said “I eat potato”.
Most Bizarre Search To Date
Sunday, November 19th, 2006 |Someone got to my blog by searching the words “are smelly armpits a sign of trouble in a child”. Bizarre. How is that even a question? Of course my blog comes up number one in the search results. Thanks Google. Unfortunately, the searcher wasn’t able to find an answer to their question, since I don’t have one. I’ll tell them this though. Smelly armpits are a sign of trouble in anyone.
Here’s the search:
www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=are smelly armpits a sign of trouble in a child%3F
Speaking of Misplaced Priorities..
Wednesday, November 15th, 2006 |So one evening a few weeks ago I was sweeping my front yard and this man who lives around the corner came by and asked me to borrow $10 so that his wife could have passage to go to work.
“Boy she only harrassing meh. And ah just want to gi she de money so she go leave meh alone. Ah go bring it back to yuh on Saturday please God.”
Now I don’t really know the man all that well. I know his dad and his brother. He lived in Guyana for a few years before returning to Trinidad and I only just met him this year. The week before he asked me for the loan, I had asked him about his brother who had fallen and hurt his back. So I guess that’s what made him so comfortable in asking a virtual stranger for a $10 loan.
So I said ok and went to get it. So when I came back he said, “Well if not Saturday, then Sunday ok?”
Uh, wait….I’m thinking, “I thought not five minutes ago you said Saturday.”
Anyway, I said ok and handed it to him. So Saturday come and gone, no $10. Sunday come and gone, no $10. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday….in fact the whole week done and it have time come round again to Sunday. So Sunday I outside again sweeping my yard and I see him and he see me same time…and the nastiness smile. Well form the time I see that I know he coming with some cock and bull story he invent when he saw me outside.
He say, “Boy, ah was calling last Sunday and nobody came outside.”
“What time so?”
“All 6 so.”
“But I was home.”
(no reply)
“Well bang on the gate next time.”
“OK.”
So Friday of that same week reach now and he see each other again.
“Yeah boy sorry about that I get tie up dey. But bang on the gate right?”
“Yes…the gate…..bang on it” I didn’t say this through clenched teeth, although it may seem like it.
So as soon as I saw him the next time (which was the next week) I knew he was coming with some story again.
“Yeah boss, sorry about that, but if yuh have any work to give meh to do I could do it for yuh.”
Wait, wait, wait, hold on. I’m thinking, how did “please lend me $10″ turn into, “please pay me $10 for a job that we have yet to decide on and which I am yet to do”? How dat reach dey? I was like, “Nah I realy doh have no work for yuh to do yuh know.”
“(he thought about this for a moment) Oh ok. So bang on the gate right?”
“Yes….the gate….bang on it.”
People, you know the very next day I see this man walking the road with a Carib? So I thinking again, “What if I liked Carib too? I can’t even afford Carib if I wanted one. I does drink the short Busta when I thirsty. I doh even buy water, because water is $4.”
Well I decide I not lending money ever again. I doh care what sad story yuh come with.
El Aligator
Thursday, November 9th, 2006 |Aye allyuh. Oh gosh, allyuh have to check this prank call out. This is real tears. Sorry if allyuh hear this one before.
Caribbean Airlines
Friday, November 3rd, 2006 | |
…I‘m just saying you know…cuz you never know if Caribbean Airlines will get into some trouble again, and, well, sometimes it’s good to know what your options are. This particular option comes with sponsorship and a relatively cheap paint job.
Obeah Woman
Friday, October 27th, 2006 |Is there a a new discovery in household laundry that involves slapping yourself around in the laundry room and arguing with the clothes? If not, then my neighbour’s a obeah woman.
I know she’s not slapping her son around because he’s at school all day long, and I know it’s not her father because he’s dead. She definitely doesn’t have any pets, so what else could it be?
Ramleela Fire!
Friday, October 13th, 2006 |*First of all I apologise for not doing very well this week when it came to posting to my blog. I had a very busy week. Thanks to all who sent concerns and then threats (Hottie).
On Sunday night I went to the very last night of Ramleela which is always the best because that’s when they burn the effigy of Rawan and I always appreciate a good blaze. Of course like every other final Ramleela night I have ever been to, it rained like first time. When I say rain, I mean hard rain. So people had to seek out shelter wherever they could. All this time Rawan with his twisty moustache, red shirt, blue pants and evil grin was standing in the middle of the field getting soaked no tail.
Everyone who had something to sell was out there including the doubles man, the saheena/pholourie woman, the sno cone man, and the cotton candy man. There was even a guy out there selling light-up toys that were popular with the children since it was dark.
An old man standing next to me looked at me and said, “Rain, boy, rain!”
“This thing go really burn with all that rain it collect today?” I asked him.
“Yeah man,” he said,”the amount ah thing they does put in that, it ha to bun.”
After the reenacments from the Ramayana were over, and all the kick and cuff from the mock battles were though, it was time for Rawan to meet his doom. Now last year I think we had an equal amount of rain and Rawan still went up in flames quite easily. But this year Rawan wasn’t going down without a fight.
When it was time to light him afire, a group of youths came up and lit a tiny fire on the ground before Rawan. Next a chicken-chest youth of about 18 came up and dipped his arrow (I assumed was soaked in pitch oil) into the fire and got it alight. He stepped back, drew back the arrow, fired, and missed. The next arrow hit Rawan in the arm, but it didn’t stick and it fell off. The third arrow hit Rawan dead in the crotch. His crotch burned for about 15 seconds then extinguished eliciting giggles from the crowd. A barrage of arrows came next. The ones that stuck did absolutely nothing. Rawan was just too drenched this time. Eventually chicken-chest boy got an arrow to lodge in Rawan’s stomach and it got a tiny flame going, but it was obvious it wasn’t going to last.
Someone got the bright idea to bring out a 10-gallon container of liquid onto the scene, the fumes from which confirmed it wasn’t pitch oil but gasoline. Any receptacle they could find they filled with gasoline; be it sweet drink bottle or paint can. Luckily the crowd was about 40-50 feet back from the madness because then they started hurling the open containers at the 60 foot effigy. So bottle flinging, bucket pelting, and people stepping further back. The gas would start escaping from the receptacle as soon as it left the pelters’ hands, hit Rawan’s tiny stomach fire and would create a trail of fire leading back to the pelters’ feet. If you think this sounds like madness, then you would agree with the man who was standing beside me:
“But what trouble? Deez chirren mad? Dat is madness!”
I had to agree with him especially as gasoline appeared to be falling all over the pelters themselves, which couldn’t be good. With every arrow that stuck, the tassa started up a strong celebratory rhythm, but died down each time with the flame.
So 25 minutes after the gas-pelting began, Rawan refused to die gracefully. Part of his arm was gone and, his stomach and crotch were both heavily scared, but he stood strong. And the situation was growing increasingly worse as a large maze of fire streaks had developed at the feet of the pelters.
The boys then decided to slit open Rawan’s legs and place Coke bottles filled with gasoline into the bottom of the effigy. And why not? It wouldn’t have been the craziest thing they did that day. Someone then fetched a ladder and placed it up against Rawan’s stomach while another person scaled up it holding the now half-empty 10 gallon container. Now Mr. Man opened up a hole in the stomach and start to pour gas into the stomach shaking the container so that the gas sprinkled. Mind you, the effigy is still smouldering, eh. All this time the fire services park outside of the compound and them fellas stretching-out atop the appliance, seemingly not too concerned that gasoline was being hurled around like insults on a UNC platform.
So gas pouring and Rawan smouldering. All of a sudden, thing blaze up. Effigy start to bun like somebody press fast forward. And this youth man still high up on the ladder with the gasoline container. Well he drop that in a one and boy, I never see a man descend so fast. Talk ’bout twinkle toes? So he scramble down and somehow managed not to get incinerated, and four or five of them yank away the ladder from the effigy in so doing, the ladder nearly fell on some of the pelters who were smart enough to hang back, but not smart enough to hang way the hell back. And with about 35 minutes elapsing since the first arrow from the chicken-chest youth, Rawan’s upper body was ablaze and the tassa rolled victoriously without ceasing. It did start to die a little though, but just at the right time all the gas poured into the effigy ignited the coke bottles at the bottom and it blazed up again. By this time the crowd collectively stepped back about 5 feet because the heat emanating from the blaze became unbearable.
And with that Rawan crumpled to the ground. Some of the boys decided they wanted to salvage the ropes that kept him erect so four of them tried tugging one of them but Rawan was keeping those and they gave up.
I didn’t wait to see Rawan burn out completely, because we (my friend and I) had to beat the traffic coming out of the site. So we left the scene, I with my inferno lust satisfied for yet another year.
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