Tag Archives: Funny

Golden Telephone

An American decided to write a book about famous churches around the world.

He bought a plane ticket and took a trip to Orlando, thinking that he would start by working his way across the USA from South to North.

On his first day he was inside a church taking photographs when he noticed a golden telephone mounted on the wall with a sign that read ‘$10,000 per call’.

The American, being intrigued, asked a priest who was strolling by what the telephone was used for.  The priest replied that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 you could talk to God.

The American thanked the priest and went along his way.

Next stop was in Atlanta. There, at a very large cathedral, he saw the same looking golden telephone with the same sign under it.

He wondered if this was the same kind of telephone he saw in Orlando and he asked a nearby nun what its purpose was.   She told him that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 he could talk to God.

‘OK, thank you,’ said the American.

He then travelled all across America, Africa, England, Japan, New Zealand.  In every church he saw the same looking golden telephone with the same ‘$US10,000 per call’ sign under it.

The American decided to travel to Scotland to see if Scots had the same phone.

He arrived in Scotland and again, in the first church he entered, there was the same looking golden telephone, but this time the sign under it read ’40 pence per call.’

The American was surprised so he asked the priest about the sign.

‘Father, I’ve travelled all over the world and I’ve seen this same golden telephone in many churches.  I’m told that it is a direct line to Heaven, but in all of them the price was $10,000 per call. Why is it so cheap here?’

The priest smiled and answered, ‘You’re in Scotland now, son – it’s a local call’.


Photo Diary

I decided to take photos of me and the boys tonight. Okay, so I didn’t look my best, but I didn’t care (too much).

I grabbed Cameron and snapped a pic. First try. Looks great. Next!

Now it’s Ian’s turn. Cute, but I think we can do better.

Trying to chase him down for another photo proved harder than first anticipated. You see, it was the first real snowfall of the year and Ian was uber excited.

Rather than risk getting his trousers wet, he ripped them off and took off outside in the snow, wearing only his Transformers underpants. Sicko.

Now bored, I take one of myself.

Undeterred, I try again. Eyes closed. Nice.

Now he takes one of me. We’re off task here PEOPLE.

He starts “gawping”.

Then tries to do some kind of face fart. Charming child.

May as well join him.

He attempts a sly face lick.

Great, a good shot of me. He suuuuuuuuuuucks!

Now I look drunk.

I give up.

Rule #1: If you think you can do better–you can’t.

Out of the Mouth of Babes…

Last night for our weekly family night, we decided to finally crack down and pen some “House Rules” to pin on the fridge.  With us all sitting down around the coffee table we were ready to begin.

Bryan said, “Okay, we’re all going to make a rule, how does that sound?”
“Great”, said Ian.
“Okay, I’ll go first”, ventured Daddy, and I saw him paused for a few seconds longer than anticipated.
“No shouting”, I offered, through gritted teeth.
“How about…no shouting, Ian?!”
“Okay, Mummy’s next.  What’s your rule Mummy?”
“Share toys and tidy up”, I ventured – ever the optimist.
“That’s a good one too.  What’s your rule for the house, Ian?”
He bowed his head a little and rested his finger on his mouth, obviously deep in though.  After a moment, he lifted his head and had a twinkle in his eyes.
“I know!” he blurted out, “no more naughty place!”

Clever.  Sadly, it didn’t make the list.


Before I share this blog, I am going to give some background.

I used to work for IBM call centre in Scotland, receiving in-bound calls from end users, stores, banks and helpdesks for hardware faults on their computers, servers and anything in-between. Hence, when a solicitor calls, I give them my time; or my listening ear, if you will.

However, push the wrong buttons and get rude with me and I will verbally attack you until I am finished with my little game.

A few weeks ago I got a call from a company whose name was spoken so fast I couldn’t understand it. Anyway, he claimed he could lower my monthly mortgage payments.

What is your current interest rate on your home ma’am?

Is it fixed or variable?
it’s fixed

What is your current balance on your loan?
That’s private information; I’m not sharing that with you over the phone. And how do I know you are who you say you are?

Ma’am, my name is _________ and I’m from _________.
Yes, I understand that, but you have to look at it from my point of view mate, you could be anyone and I just have to believe you, know what I mean?

But we can substantially lower your monthly payments, what is your current balance?
That’s private, I’m not telling you, especially over the phone, I wouldn’t even share that with someone who knew me … so stop asking

But I need it to let you know how much I can lower your payments by …
Look, I seriously DOUBT you would know how much you can save me. You’re just trained to sit there in your wee call center and tell people you can save them money, but how do you really know? You don’t.

We can refinance your mortgage so that it you will only pay 1% interest …
(I cut him off) Is that fixed or variable?

It’s fixed for 5 years.
And then what after that? Eleven, 13? 71⁄2? I think I’ll stick with my 5.5, I seem to be getting a better deal there. And plus (he tried to cut me off) … excuse me, I listened to you when you spoke, please afford me the same respect. Thank you. And plus! I am happy with my Countrywide loan, I know who these people are, I have never heard of your business and quite frankly, if I WAS going to refinance, I wouldn’t be doing it over the phone. I’d want to do it in private in an office where I can see the person I am talking to.

Well ma’am, I can transfer you to one of the loan officers here and they can discuss it with you …
I don’t want to talk with one of your loan officers, in fact, I don’t really want to be talking to you either, so please don’t waste your time. Seriously, I know you can’t accept the first few no’s, and I appreciate that, that’s your job, but I really am not interested in switching my loan to your company.

Well, thank you for your time ma’am, have a nice day.
Hey, you too, cheers mate.

Help Ma Boab!

I have this feeling lately that I really am losing it …

Since my son decided to try cruising between furniture at the ripe old age of seven months and start walking at nine-and-a-half months, my life has never been the same. Lately I can feel the insanity creeping in, and I can’t help but feel like I am under the thumb of a thirteen-month-old.

Ian thinks it’s great to chew dirt and spread it around his face. He climbs on side tables and propels himself onto the couch. Chews candles and rubs the wax on my windows. Unravels toilet paper, shreds it all over the floor and then eats it. Opens drawers full of folded clothing and tosses it behind him in a cotton and polyester orgy. Empties the dishwasher as I’m loading it, at times stopping to grab a nasty spoon and attempt to suck on it, or grab a steak knife when I’m picking something else out of the sink.

While I am drying my hair and have both hands occupied, he opens my makeup drawer and chews eyeshadow applicators, sucks powder brushes and chips out blusher and spreads it all over the inside of the drawer, on the floor and on his clothes.

I think I need professional psychiatric help. Oh mama … is this a stage, and how long will it last? I am constantly checking and isolating grey hair and I don’t think I can spare too many more. The sad thing? He grins at me so sweetly with that beautiful innocence of a child, he giggles heartily as I chase him and watch him fall over his own feet in his haste to escape. I love the little guy and I am beginning to wonder if his behaviour is normal and I am the inconsiderate one for not letting him explore his world and express himself.

See what I mean? He’s made me delusional. I’ll be strumming my bottom lip like a banjo and whistling “Dixie” before I know it.

It’s not that I want answers or sympathy, I just need an outlet. I am seriously going to invest in magnetic door and drawer locks. I already have some plastic ones, but I fear that his IQ will increase ten-fold and they will be but splintered fragments discarded on the floor, like the clearance rack at Old Navy.