Come For The Cheesesteaks, Stay For The Potholes

Yo!

I mean...

Hello there!

Pleased to meet you!

My name is Pennsylvania.

I’ve been getting a lot of bad press recently on account of, you know, that big snow storm and the ice and the three major interstates being closed down and trapping hundreds of motorists in their freezing cars for a day and a night and a day. Or so.

And I just wanted to take a few minutes to first apologize…

Uh…sorry...

and then do a better job of introducing myself.

How yous guys doin'!


I’m a lovely state, really.

I have purple mountains and crystal lakes. I have yummy chocolate-themed amusement parks and great big river down my middle that's just dandy for meandering along in an inner tube on a warm summer's day. I even have a small slice of shoreline along one of the Great Lakes! For you hunters and fishers, I have fields and streams a plenty. And if city lights and fine dining are your fancy, well sir, I’ve got world class cities propping up both my eastern and western borders in just the precise spots to help keep you from ending up in New Jersey or Ohio.

I mean, you don’t want to go to New Jersey.

What’s New Jersey got that I don’t got?

Nuthin’ that’s what.

Oh sure, there’s The Shore. But it ain’t much of a shore, let me tell you. They don’t even call it a shore. They call it a “sure”. Who wants to go swimming at a “sure”? If you ask me, Jersey Sure sounds suspiciously like Jersey Sewer. In fact, I once heard that if you go sea bathing at Atlantic City, you might find yourself swimming alongside old syringes and other medical waste from New York’s Fresh Kills Landfill. Like, this one kid I know was down the shore one year, and he was bodysurfing, and he, like, kept feeling little fish bumping up against his legs. Except when he finally landed on the beach and took a look around him, it wasn’t little fish bumping up against his legs. It was, like, a bunch of used gall bladders.

I swear it’s true.

And Ohio? I mean, whatever. If you really want to go play with Ohio, go knock yourself out. Ohio has no hills at all so you can’t even go sledding. And in the summer, all there is to do is walk around kicking cans or maybe hang out at the 7-Eleven. Don’t even get me started on Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. First of all, how is Miles Davis in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Witness - the most awesome rock band ever on the face of the planet - hasn’t even been nominated yet? (Ohmigod, Billy Spence, the lead singer, was so dreamy!) Sure, Witness was mostly just a Jethro Tull-Billy Joel cover band, and they mostly just played down the Jersey Sewer. But the band also did a lot of gigs at Cardinal Brennan High School in Fountain Springs, PA, and I so own them.

But yeah, if you want to play with Ohio, be my guest. All I'm going to say is that one time Illinois told me that Scranton reminded him of Cleveland except with classier truck stops and better tasting kielbasa. And Scranton’s sitcom kicks Cincinnati’s sitcom’s ass any day, any year.


So hey!

Like the slogan says, You’ve Got A Friend In Pennsylvania!

I want to be your friend.

I’ll give you a piece of gum if you’ll be my friend.

Anyway, your mom says you have to play with me because I got all that important old-timey stuff in Philadelphia and in Gettysburg and it’s real important and you’re supposed to hang out with me and improve your mind. Your mom told my mom that you’re not allowed to play with California or Nevada anymore because you keep coming home smelling like wine and hookers. In Pennsylvania, you’re not even allowed to buy wine on a Sunday except for in specially run State Stores, and even then you have to prove that you’re at least 35 years old and were just attending church services. Where they were baptizing hookers.

Aw, c’mon!

Visit me!

I promise it’ll be fun!

Wanna see my broken nuclear reactor collection?

Ooh! Ooh! I know! Let’s go tip some Amish cows!

Fine.

Be that way.


But if you don’t play with me, I’m not going to let you get to New York City.

Yeah, that’s right. Whaddaya gonna do now? Oooohhh, cut all the way through Maryland to get on I-95? You’ll never make the matinee showing of Spamalot.

C’mmmmooooonnnnnnnnnnnn.

I'm a nice state.

Wanna see my new puppy?

That’s right…just get on the I-78 entrance ramp.

See?

I'll have you in The Big Apple in no time.

That?

Oh, that’s just a little snow. A few flurries. We call them “fun flakes” here in Pennsylvania. Just a little something to add to the festival atmosphere of driving 75 miles per hour on a four-lane highway while double-trailer big rigs rumble by you at 95 miles an hour, clip your side-view mirror, and then suddenly swerve into your lane after jamming into first gear to make it up the next hill.

Whoops! Watch that black ice!

Looks like things are getting a bit hairy on the interstates again. Better pull off and let PennDOT get to work clearing the roads.

No, no! It won’t take long, I promise. Pinky swear.

Looky here! Why it’s a quaint little Pennsylvania Dutchy town. Just drive a bit down this back road toward the Hausselhoofen Diner and linger over a light dish of chicken croquettes a while. See that? I’m not so bad. Just a bit further down the road and you can bide your time with a quick dish of waffles and gravy and a slice of shoofly pie. Oh yeah, that's low fat. All PA Dutch cooking is low fat. Just around this bend, and then I’ll have you back on the Interstate in no…

HA-HAH!!!!!

GOTCHYA!



IT RUBS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN! IT RUBS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN!



Heh heh heh.


(Top photo: highway outside of Centralia, PA; Bottom photo: sinkhole on Rt. 924 Schuylkill County, PA.)

Not Even Trying....

I'm not even going to try to come up with an excuse for not blogging.

First, my husband hates when I start posts with "Oh brother, sorry for not writing more...." He says I should just shut up and write. Well, he doesn't really tell me to shut up because, you know, I wouldn't cotton to such talk.

Second, I can't keep using my kids as an excuse, but really, the little darlings are sucking the life out of me. I mean that in the best way possible. That is, if you're going to have the life sucked out of you, then having it done by adorable imps is the way to go.

But enough about my sucking.

Here's someone who does not suck.

My sister.

Have you all met my sister?

I wrote a 5-star love-in for my sister a whiles back, and you can read it here.

My sister rocks long and hard.

And she makes me laugh like all get out.

Recently, she wrote a post about deer hunting, and I literally did LOL. I laughed out loud. Several times. I laughed so hard I snorted and scared the baby and then had to bounce around the room going "Shh! Shh! Shh! Shh baby! Shh!" This is how I do a lot of things these days. While bouncing a baby.

Anyway, hunting.

Yeah, I know it isn't real PC or anything. But you must know that even though I come from a long line of meat eaters and deer hunters, I also come from a long line of cat rususcitators (see above link to post about my sister.) Honestly, even if you are a vegan or cat resuscitator yourself, just try to imagine my uncle falling asleep on top of a coal slush bank while hunting and then waking up with a rifle in his hand and wondering where he is. C'mon! That's funny!

Or okay, it sounds funnier when my sister tells it.

In fact, she made it sound so funny that I gave her a ROFL award for November.



So yeah...while I'm still knee deep in kids and cookie dough, you should be reading my sister's blog for some homespun yucks.

My sister.

Did I tell you that she dresses as Liberace for kicks? She's my kind of twisted.

The Ugly Sisters in full regalia

Funny Ha-Ha AND Funny Strange

Dear Kitty,

I haven't written for a few days, because I wanted first of all to think about my blog. It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a blog; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I - nor for that matter anyone else - will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen-year-old Jewish schoolgirl. I mean, I forty-year-old yonko soccer mom.



Okay, how "not funny" is it of me to spoof Anne Frank?

Pretty lame, huh?

Even though there are moments when I very much feel as if I've been locked-up in a moldy attic in Amsterdam where the day-in-day-out monotony is enough to drive me bonkers, I suppose that the most I have to fear from the Hampden Township Police is their good-natured hand-waving and possibly a citation for not even attempting to grow grass on my front lawn.

At least Anne had time to write.


Okay, sorry. That was uncalled for.



There are certain rules in comedy that should always be adhered to.

The first rule of comedy is "A series of three is funny." If I say three words or phrases in a row, the third word or phrase always scans like a punchline. Here, try it:


"George Bush, Dick Cheney, and a toaster oven."

See? Hilarious!


Let's try that again:

"Blue, green, and Rush Limbaugh in pink go-go boots"


Genius.


Of course, every seasoned comedian knows that the second rule of funny-making is probably even more important than the "rule of three".

And that rule, simply stated, is "Lay off the Anne Frank jokes."

Anne Frank jokes are definitely not ha-ha. Not even the one Anne Frank knock-knock joke I know.

Boy is that joke ever not funny.

Trust me.


On the other hand, pregnant women getting bitten by rabid bats?

Comedy gold.

So golden, in fact, that my troubled account of the utter fear and crushing anxiety I felt after my run-in with a possibly infected bat netted me a ROFL award for the month of October!




Dang. You people are hardcore.

And I love you, every one.

Truly and sincerely.


And what I won’t do to make you laugh.

Did I tell you that I’m running with the bulls next July? Then I’m going to skydive into a cactus field and after that I’m going to drop-in on a vert ramp and then swim naked in a lobster tank. All while wearing a Baby Bjorn. (Did Johnny Knoxville try that one yet?)

Anyway, again…

I graciously accept this ROLF (Rolling On Floor Laughing) Award, and look forward to many more opportunities to make with the ha-ha for my dear readers. And thank you, dear readers, for hanging-in there with me while I get this “three kids” thing under control. We’ve almost got a nap schedule going, and when that happens, look out. Oh, what I can’t do with two consecutive daytime hours of sleeping child! Operas will be written! Whole novels outlined and completed! And, of course, some laundry will be done, too. Will you still love me if I tell you I’ve been wearing the same shirt for three days?

I’m funny smelling, too.

But, I’m protected against rabies for the next few years, and I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat just for the material.

I’m that hardcore.


Knock-knock!
Who’s there?
Anne.
Anne who?
.
.
.
.
.
An Easter Bunny!

Knock-knock!
Who’s there?
Anna.
Anna who?
Anna other Easter Bunny!


And for tons more funnies, go check out the rest of this month's winners. Just remember: cross your legs, and don't take a sip of coffee before you begin reading. Cause that stuff can burn coming out. From both places.

October's ROFL Award Winners!

A Series of Unfortunate Conversations

Dear Reader,

I hope, for your sake, that you have not chosen to read this blog entry with the purpose of finally having a good chuckle after all the horrifying events of the past week. If this is the case, I strongly recommend that you click on this link instead, which will promptly (assuming you do not have dial up) direct you to a photograph of four large dogs dressed as hamburgers. Because, of all the blog posts detailing and describing the wild, weird, and wacky lives of the Halushki Family, this post might well be the weirdest, if not the wackiest.

I have promised to write down the entire history of this wretched and most disturbing incident in its entirety. But this blog post will have to do for now.

Ba-dum-bum.

If you prefer something more cheerful, go look at that dog photo again.

With all due respect,

Mme. Halushki


Conversation The First

Scene: Sultry summer night in mid-July. Heavily pregnant woman rushes into bedroom and quickly and gracelessly heaves herself onto bed where man is deep in sleep, quietly snorkeling.

Woman: (not even trying to be quiet) BAT!
Man: Huh…? Ung…?
Woman: A BAT! A BAT! IN OFFICE! BAT! BAT! BAT!
Man: Zzzzzzz…wha…? Bunt?
Woman: (pounds on man's chest with both fists) BAAAAAAAAAAT!
Man: (man jumps up and sprays a string of drool across the wall) Bat…?
Woman: BAT!
Man: Bat?
Woman: BAT! FLY! BAT!
Man: (becomes instantly alert and strikes noble pose of ninja flapping arms madly about head to deflect a bat) Where?! WHERE?!
Woman: NO! THERE! THERE! THERE!
Man: GO! GO! SHOW BAT!
Woman: COME! BAT! GO! SHOW BAT!

Exit room a la Three Stooges.


Conversation the Second

Scene: Same night. Hallway of house. Dim light. Heavily pregnant woman and the man are standing outside the door to home office. Both stare intently at the door.

Man:
Woman:
Man:
Woman: It’s in there.
Man:
Woman:
Man:
Woman: Did you hear what I -
Man: Yes! Yes! I heard you!
Woman:
Man:
Woman: Well?
Man: I’m thinking.
Woman: The cat’s in there, too.
Man: Hmmmm.
Woman: Yes?
Man: Maybe the cat will kill the bat.
Woman: Good. Yes.
Man: Okay. Good. Yes.
Woman: Good.
Man: Yes.
Woman:
Man:
Woman: What if the bat has rabies?
Man:
Woman: I said -
Man: Okay! I heard you!
Woman: Because then the cat -
Man: Yeah! Okay, I get it!
Woman:
Man:
Woman: So……?
Man: I know what to do.
Woman: Yes! What to do?
Man: Go. Get me a big box, a roll of duct tape, a flashlight, a large hat, and a shot of whiskey. Go. Go. Go.
Woman: A shot of…?
Man: Fortification.
Woman: Right! Got it! I’m going!

Conversation The Third

Voice on phone: Good morning. Pennsylvania Game Commission.
Woman: We have a bat in our house. Please come get it.
Voice on phone: M’am, you said you have…a bat?
Woman: Yes. A bat. Come get it now, please.
Voice on phone: A live bat? Or is it dead?
Woman: Well, I think it’s still alive.
Voice on phone: Where is it right now?
Woman: It’s in a bookcase.
Voice on phone:
Woman: It’s in a bookcase.
Voice on phone: A bookcase…
Woman: Yes. The cat cornered the bat in the bookcase and we sealed the bat in with an empty Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookie carton.
Voice on phone:
Woman: And duct tape.
Voice on phone: So it might still be alive. You don’t know.
Woman: No.
Voice on phone: Could you go see if the bat is alive?
Woman: No.
Voice on phone: Okay. We’ll send an officer over right now to get the bat.
Woman: Thank you. I’ll pour the whiskey.


Conversation The Fourth

Different Voice on Phone: Hello. Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture Laboratory. How can I help you?
Woman: Hello. I just spoke with an officer from the Game Commission who said that he would be dropping off a bat at your labs for rabies testing.
Lab Guy: Hmmm. A bat you say?
Woman: Yes. He caught the bat in our house early this morning and said that he was bringing it directly to the lab for testing. See, our cat was locked in a room with the bat and we don’t know whether the bat bit the cat but then while I was trying to catch the cat that was with the bat, the cat bit me, and now the bat needs to be tested.
Lab Guy: The bat bit you?!
Woman: No. The cat did.
Lab Guy: And the cat is here now?
Woman: Bat. Not cat.
Lab Guy: In French chat-chapeau?
Woman: No. In French chauve-souris.
Lab Guy: Got it!
Woman: The bat?
Lab Guy: No. There’s no bat here.
Woman: Okay, uhm, no. You’re wrong. There is a bat there. The guy from the Game Commission told me that this is the only lab in the area and you would have the bat lickety split.
Lab Guy: Well, I’ll tell you what. If your bat comes in, I’ll call you immediately.
Woman: You will?
Lab Guy: Oh yes! Bats. Serious business. You know, a rabid bat could bite you or your children while you’re all sleeping and you’d never know it. You’d be dead in a month without knowing what hit you.
Woman:
Lab Guy: You still there?
Woman: Yes. I was just pouring myself a shot of whiskey.
Lab Guy: That's the spirit! I’ll call you later.


Conversation The Fifth

Voice on Phone: Hello, Pennsylvania Game Commission.
Woman: I’ve spoken with the lab five times today and still no bat.
Voice on Phone: Excuse me?
Woman: I called about a bat today. Your guy came and extracted a bat from my house and told me he brought it to the lab for testing.
Voice on Phone: Oh yes, I remember you now.
Woman: Well, the lab doesn’t have the bat.
Voice on Phone: Just one second.
Woman:
Woman:
New Voice on Phone: Hello! You’re the lady with the bat! I was by your house today. Real nice bat you had there.
Woman: Now see here! I’ve called the lab a few times today and they told me no bat!
Officer: No bat, hmmm?
Woman: Yes! No bat! What do you have to say about this?
Officer: Well, I wasn’t going to tell you, because I figured you’d be real upset. But, I let the bat go.
Woman: YOU WHAT?
Officer: Yeah, see, I was in the parking lot and I put the bat on the ground before I was going to kill it…
Woman: YOU WHAT?
Officer: …and it flew away.
Woman: IT FLEW AWAY?
Officer: Durndest thing, too. A bat flying away like that….
Woman: IT FLEW AWAY?
Officer: Yep. Just flew away over the tree tops.
Woman: IT FLEW AWAY?
Officer: Who’da thunk it?
Woman: IT HAS WINGS! WOULDN’T THAT BE A FIRST CLUE?!
Officer: Ah, now don’t you go gettin’ all worried like. It looked real healthy, a bat like that. If you're askin’ me, I’ll tell you I seen plenty of sick bats and that bat didn’t look sick as far as I could tell. Flying away, free as can be….
Woman: I wanted it tested for rabies! I wanted cold hard science all over this, not some touchy-feely eyeball analysis from Mister Born Free emancipator of bats!
Officer: Ah whelp, I’m just sorry as all get out about your bat.
Woman: YOU'RE SORRY? SORRY?
Officer: Yep. Won’t happen again, I promise. Okay now, you have a good ole day, ya hear?
Woman: !!!


Conversation The Sixth

Woman: Uhmmm, Honey?
Man on phone: Yes.
Woman: You’ve never happened to be vaccinated for rabies, have you?
Man on phone: What?
Woman: Vaccinated for rabies. You know. Like maybe when you were little you were playing with a raccoon….
Man on phone: No. No, I never played with raccoons.
Woman: Okay, well then, the PA Department of Health says we all need to go start rabies shots.
Man on phone: WHAT?
Woman: I know this sounds crazy, but they followed up after the Game Commission’s bat report and I told them what happened and that they let the bat go and now we don’t know whether it was positive or negative for rabies and that the bat was in the house while we were sleeping and that all our bedroom doors were open they said that bats can bite you in your sleep and you’d never know it and it’s bad.
Man:
Woman: It happened to a kid in Texas this past May.
Man: Sigh
Woman: Yeah…so…we have to go to the Emergency Room because that’s the only place they have the shots.
Man: Can’t they just like, check us for bites or something?
Woman: Well the woman at the CDC said…
Man: The CDC?
Woman: Yes, the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. It’s speed dial number 5 on our kitchen phone. Anyway, the CDC says that the bites are just like pinpricks and you can’t even see them….
Man: Sigh
Woman: And then I spoke with a doctor who is the head of rabies studies for the State of Pennsylvania…
Man: Who now?
Woman: Well, I can’t remember his name, but the woman at the Department of Health got sick of me calling and asking questions about rabies and bats, so she gave me his number.
Man: And what did he say?
Woman: Well, first he asked how I got his home number.
Man: And then?
Woman: Because it’s unlisted.
Man: And then?
Woman: He said that most bats don’t have rabies, but the ones that get into houses are more likely to have rabies.
Man: That’s encouraging.
Woman: And he said that the chances are slim that we were exposed to rabies….
Man: Good.
Woman: But that he couldn’t guarantee it.
Man: Of course.
Woman: He said that in all the literature written about bat bites, that there has never, ever, ever been an occurrence of an entire family getting rabies from one bat…
Man: Phew.
Woman: …but, he said, then again that’s why they make White Out.
Man:
Woman: I thought that was funny.
Man:
Man: So you and I have to get shots?
Woman: And the girls.
Man: The girls, too? Sigh. I can’t believe this.
Woman: Well, it’s like a one an a bazillion chance that the bat even bit us. Then it’s like one in a kazillion that the bat was even rabid, but….
Man: But?
Woman: But if it was rabid, and it did bite us in our sleep…
Man: …okay…rabies, right? That's what? I mean, what’s the worse that can happen?
Woman: …we’re going to foam at the mouth, become incredibly thirsty and yet scream at the sight of water, and then endure days of excruciating muscle spasms until we all die.
Man:
Woman:
Man: Meet you at the hospital.
Woman: Yeah, I thought so.

Conversation The Seventh

Woman: Hey girls! Guess what we’re going to do today?
Girls: What, Mommy, what?!
Woman: We’re going to visit the hospital!
Girls: Yipee! We‘re going to have the baby! The baby!
Woman: No, no…remember the bat we had in our house the other night?
Girls: Is the bat having babies?
Woman: The bat might have rabies.
Girls: Yipee! Rabies! Rabies!
Woman: Do you know what rabies is?
Girls: Rabies are bat babies!
Woman: No. Rabies is a bad sickness.
Girls:
Woman: And the bat might have given the rabies to us.
Girls:
Woman: And now we have to go get rabies shots.
Girls:
Woman: But it won’t hurt.
Girls: Wwwwaaaaaaaaaa!
Woman: Much.
Girls: WWwwAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Woman: Oh, c’mon now, cheer up! At least it’s not twelve shots in the stomach like back when I was a kid! Now it’s just five shots in the leg over the course of 28 days. Piece of cake!
Girls: WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!


Conversation The Eighth

Scene: Emergency Room of Local Hospital. After waiting two hours to be triaged, the Halushki family is now sitting in a curtained room speaking with the Attending Physician, who The Woman demanded to see after the intern informed them that they would not be receiving the initial shots of rabies immunoglobulin along with the vaccination as per CDC and WHO protocol for the 0,3,7,14, 28 day rabies series.

Woman: WHY ARE WE NOT RECEIVING THE INITIAL SHOTS OF RABIES IMMUNOGLOBULIN AS PER THE CDC AND WHO PROTOCOL FOR THE 0,3,7,14,28 RABIES SERIES!

Attending Physician: M’am, you need to calm down.

Woman: NO! NO! NO CALMING DOWN! WANT IMMUNOGLOBULIN!

AP: Now, I know what the CDC protocol is, but this is how I’ve always treated possible rabies exposures by bats. We just give the shots without the immunoglobulin. It’s always been successful.

Woman: (breathing into paper bag) You know, as soon as someone says, “This is the way we’ve done it and it’s always been successful” I immediately see an asterisk with a note at the bottom of the page that says *except in the case of one family from Pennsylvania who didn’t receive treatment according to protocol and God rest their souls.

AP: If these were my own children, my own grandchildren, I‘d give them the shots without the immunoglobulin.

Woman: Fine. Then do so. But these are my kids.

AP: Do you know how much the immunoglobulin shots are going to hurt?

Woman: No. You tell me. More or less than convulsing to death?

AP: Now listen here. I have a Ph.D. in microbiology and am an expert in the field of virology….

Woman: And I’m a well-read hypochondriac with an honorary doctorate from Google University….

AP: Listen. If you were bitten at all, the bite would be small. A bite that size would take longer to incubate. If you start the vaccine today, in fourteen days your immunity level should be sufficient to stop the virus. If you even were exposed. Honestly, you have more risk of dying from a vending machine toppling over on you.

Woman: I’ll never go near a Coke dispenser again.

Man: (chiming in from the corner) Honey, I trust what the doctor is telling us.

Woman: We’re all going to die.

AP: Not today. Everyone gets a vaccination. No immunoglobulin. See you back in three days for round two.


Conversation The Ninth and Final

Evening of day 13 after the initial rabies shot. Back in bedroom, this time the girls’ room. Girls are both in bed reading. Woman standing next to them, wringing her hands.

Woman: How are you doing girls?
Girls: Fine, Mommy.
Woman: Do you feel okay?
Girls: Yes, Mommy.
Woman: How about a fever. Do you have a fever?
Girls: No, Mommy.
Woman: Are you sure? Let me feel your forehead.
Girls: Moooooommmmmmmmyyyyyyy, stttttooooppppppp!
Woman: Okay. Okay. You’re okay.
Girls:
Woman: What about this glass of water. Are you afraid of it?
Girls: No, Mommy.
Woman: Well, really take a look at it. Is it scary water?
Girls:
Woman: Okay…okay…I’ll stop. You’re fine. Fine.
Girls: (continue reading)
Woman:
Girls:
Woman: Are you sure you feel okay?

Fin.