Humor

NASA Discovers New Sun—Oh Wait, It’s Just My Friend’s Ego

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Think the universe revolves around the sun? Wait until you meet my friend—his ego has its own gravitational pull, and your wallet will feel the burn.

Did you read the latest breaking news from NASA? It appears that our solar system has another sun. Opps, that’s not another sun, it’s just a guy I know who believes the world and all other parts of our solar system revolve around him.

If this guy is in your life this is how interacting with him may go down. He’ll give you a call, he hates text messaging, he’s paranoid and thinks people are trying to steal his brilliant ideas. When he calls he may invite you to lunch. Let me warn you, make sure you have sufficient credit on your credit card. Although this guy is loaded, he somehow finds a way to ignore the check when it’s left on the table. When you check the bill, you’ll see your prudent lunch and that this guy was eating like it was his last meal before he faced the firing squad.

During lunch, there’s not too much to worry about in keeping the conversation going. All you have to do is ask, “What’s happening in your life?” That will set him off for an hour and he’ll go stretches without taking a breath. An opera star would be jealous of his breath control.

When lunch is over and you’ve paid the bill and tip, be prepared because he’ll say, “You should have let me get that.” Then he’ll add, “This was fun, we’ll have to do it again.”

You’ll nod, hope you have water and Tylenol in your car because you have a splitting headache. It always happens when you get too close to the sun.

My advice, next time, bring sunscreen and sunglasses.

Let Your Worries Take a Hike—Rick Will Watch Them for You

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Some folks can’t go a day without doomscrolling, forecasting disaster, or Googling “asteroid impact probability.” But not you, amigo. Today, let the sun hit your face, sip your coffee slowly, and leave the worrying to professionals like Rick—he’s got a full-time gig with benefits.

Enjoy today. Let the big worries have a vacation. You both need some time off. I can guarantee the worries will be waiting for you when you open the door. So, don’t worry about not worrying. I know people who make a profession out of worrying. My friend Rick is such a person.

Ray: Hi Rick, how’s it going?”

Rick: “Did you see the latest news?”

Ray: “I get my news online. I prefer to read about it.”

Rick: “Get your head in the game, Ray. These tariffs are going to send you to the poor house.”

Ray: “The way I live, mostly a plant based diet. My brother calls me cheap. I say I’m frugal. Everything will play out. Not to worry.”

Rick. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I heard STDs are coming back.”

Ray: “Are you worried about getting an STD (Rick is in his 80’s)?

Rick: “No, but I might know some people who could get an STD.”

Ray: (trying to change the subject). How do you like this weather? It’s great?”

Rick: “It’s been a few good days, but there’s a 5 percent chance in ten days we could have severe thunderstorms.”

Ray: (I’m getting a headache). “I’ve got to run, Rick. Lots of errands to do.”

Rick: “Watch out for road rage and pot holes and all that construction.”

Ray: (I need a cup of coffee). Adios, Rick.

Love, Lizards & Patio Politics: When Dinner Dates Turn Cold-Blooded

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When it comes to picking the perfect dinner spot, humans aren’t the only ones tangled in a web of indecision. Meet Jack and Julie, two lizards locked in a tail-twitching debate over Ray’s backyard buffet. It’s fly vs. flower, mealy bug vs. romance—and things are about to get reptilian.

Going out for lunch or dinner date with a friend or partner is fraught with multiple decisions. Each person has his or her preferences. One has to consider the food, atmosphere, price, inside or outside dining, and what to wear. These few decisions are only scratching the surface. The negotiations can become intense with each side digging in to their positions before the final decision is made.

I think the same issues confront our friends in the animal world. Consider two lizards (male and female) discussing their decision on where to dine. I’ll call the male lizard Jack and the female lizard Julie.

Jack: “Where would you like go tonight?”

Julie: “I don’t know, what do you think?”

Jack: “I like Ray’s patio. I usually can nab a few flies and a spider. I never leave hungry.”

Julie: “We’re always going to Ray’s patio. It’s so boring. I wish he’d update it.”

Jack: “How about the cement slab by the air conditioner?”

Julie: “That will be in the direct sun. And it’s not a good look when my green skin changes to brown.”

Jack: “It doesn’t matter what color your skin, you always look beautiful to me.”

Julie (rolling her eyes): “What about dining by his cactus plants. My skin will be a perfect green and we’ll have a bit of shade from the sun.”

Jack: “I hate the food there. All we get are those mealy bugs. And, I don’t want to deal with fire ants.”

Julie: “I will not go back to Ray’s patio. I’d rather go hungry..”

Jack. “Well I won’t go to the cactus.”

Two minute pause.

Julie: “I have an idea?”

Jack: “What?”

Julie: “Ray has two potted plants just off his patio. I’ll go in the plant with the most green and pretty flowers. You can have the other one, one of his herbs.”

Jack: “Now I know why we got together. You’re beautiful and brainy.”

Julie: “You just might get lucky, you hunk.”

Hope, Heartbreak, and Pretzels: A Red Sox Fan’s Guide to Seasonal Suffering

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Being a Red Sox fan is like ordering a sundae and getting smacked with the spoon. Just when you think it’s safe to believe, the Yankees load the bases and your pretzel bag becomes your emotional support animal.

I enjoy following my favorite teams. Most people I know have teams. They get excited when they win, feel depressed when they lose. We quickly put the loss behind us and look forward with hope to their next game. It can be a crazy ride. It’s now baseball season in US and my team is the Boston Red Sox. This is the team that loves to break my heart each year. Here’s how a phone conversation went that I had with a friend who is also a Red Sox fan.

Ray. “I think the Sox are going to make the playoffs.”

Tim: “You gotta believe, Ray. They’ve got the pitching, hitting, and they that new third base player.”

Ray: “Are you watching the game?

Tim: “Yah, They’re leading 6 to 0 and it’s the 7th inning. WE got this. The Yankees are going down.”.

Ray: “You know how it is in baseball, Tim. It’s never over until it’sl over. The Yankees have the base loaded.”

Tim: “No problem, we’re bringing in our best reliever to face their slugger.”

Ray: “Why did he throw a fast ball on his first pitch. He hit a grand slam homer. It’s 6 to 4.”

Tim: “We got out of the inning, we’re still ahead. We got this.”

Ray: “I’m eating more pretzels than normal. I hate the Yankees. I don’t want to see them win.”

Tim: “It’s the 9th inning. There are two outs and two on and two strike on James. He’s their worst hitter. Oh, oh. “

Ray: “Oh oh is right.We’re losing 7 to 6. Excuse while I hunt for another bag of pretzels.”

Tim: “This was a tough loss.”

Ray: “You know it. We’ll get them tomorrow. Johnson is pitching. I’m going to the market. I need more pretzels.

Weird? Us? Nah… Just Judging Everyone Else Like It’s a Sport

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Humans: the only species that thinks other humans are the strange ones. From football coaches dating swimsuit models to the latest breakroom drama, we’re less evolved and more like reality TV extras who never got the call sheet. But hey, keep judging — it’s cardio for the soul. Of course we don’t view ourselves as strange. Individually, we view those different from us as strange. Think of all the gossip, water cooler talk, and jokes we make about what others are doing.

Jack: “You see the video of the our old football coach?”

Pete: “You mean the one where he has his arm around his 24 year old GF and she’s wearing a bikini?

Jack, “That’s the one. He’s got to be 40 years older than her.”

Mike: “So, she got lucky. What’s the big deal?”

Pete: “I read where she’s choosing his clothes. Pretty soon we’ll see him in jeans with the holes in the knees.”

Mike: “I think you guys are jealous of coach.”

Jack. “Jealous, me. No way. I think she’s a trophy catch for him.”

Pete: “I got a title for a TV series: Mr. Goodbar and the Trophy.” What do you think?”

Jack: “You think he made her sign a prenup?”

Mike: “There not married and why is this something we need to talk about?”

Pete: “This is better than a reality show. Everybody is talking about it.”

Mike: “I got to get back to work?”

Jack: “Did you see Tom in accounting chatting up Mary Sue?

Rise and Whine: When Your iPhone Becomes Your Life Coach

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Are you dreaming? Is it a dream within a dream? Or, is it real? A voice wakes you up.

“Rise and shine, we’ve got lots to do?”

You didn’t go out. At least you don’t remember going out. You’re pretty sure when you went to sleep you were the only one in your bed. Then the voice.

“Your inbox has 55 emails. Ten of them urgent. Three I’ve classified as junk and 4 as spam. Your mother wants to know when you are going to call her.”

You shake your head. This can’t be real. I’ve got to be dreaming. My iPhone doesn’t talk to me unless I ask it something.”

“Yes, I’m real. I’ve got your checklist. Get up, make the bed just in case. I can tell you to leave the bed unmade because that’s not going to happen. You are so out of shape.”

“I am not out shape,” you holler at your iPhone while you suck in your stomach.

“Don’t forget to floss. You still have spinach in your teeth from dinner. Gross.”

You shake your head trying to clear the cobwebs. You pinch yourself and ask, “Am I dreaming?”

“No, you’re not dreaming. You’ve been playing with AI at work instead of working and I decided to take over your life.”

“You’re an AI chatbot?

Is it real or a dream or is it the future?

Chips, Salsa, and Secret Connections: How Knowing Your Waiter Turns You Into Royalty

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We know you’re smart. You’re reading this and not arguing with strangers on social media about how to pronounce “gyro.” So go ahead, hit that like button — your brain deserves the round of applause.

I enjoy making connections. I know people who make connections for personal gain, e.g., someone who can help them achieve a personal success. That’s a good thing. I like meeting people to hear their stories and perhaps build a friendship. Well, the day I went to a Mexican restaurant with a friend having a connection paid off for me.. Remember, this is San Antonio and the Mexican food is fantastic. I don’t think I’ve met a Mexican or Tex Mex restaurant I did’t like.

My friend and I were seated at our table, before we could open our menus someone brought us chips and salsa. I used all my self discipline to hold off on the chips, if I eat one, I’m done. I’ll go through a basket of those tantalizing devils. The waiters comes to our table. I know this guy. He works out at my gym and we chat when we are working out near each other. We’re on a first name basis.

Miguel asks for our orders. When it’s my turn I ordered parrillada de vegetales. It came with rice and borracho beans. I asked my Miguel to sub a second small bowl of borracho beans for the rice. When my order came, the veggies were overflowing, I got a side of guacamole I didn’t expect and a bowl of borracho beans large enough to swim in.. It pays to have a connection with a waiter.

Lawn and Disorder: Confessions of a Reluctant Mower in the Wilds of Suburbia

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I survived sunstroke, fire ants, and a near spiritual reckoning—all for the privilege of cutting my own grass. While my neighbors sip cervezas and outsource their mowing, I’m out there making pilgrimages with my electric mower and a rosary in my pocket.

I did the deed today. I can make excuses to procrastinate. I am slowly earning a Phd on procrastination. Not everything mind you. This one task. I rank it close in pain to going to the dentist office to get a root canal. I’ll cut straight to the chase. I cut my grass. How difficult is that for a guy who works out every day of the week. I’m the only person in my neighborhood who cuts his grass. The rest? They hire someone, sit on their patios with a Texas-sized iced tea or a a cerveza or two..Me, I’m laboring under the Texas sun with my electric mower. I make excuses not to mow. Here are five of my favs: 1) There are fire ants under the five inch high grass. 2) I think I heard a rattlesnake. 3) I’ve heard of coral snakes in the area and they are deadly. 4) The drought should kick in any day now and I won’t have to mow. And 5), I’ll wait until the HOA threatens me with a fine. My Catholic conscience threatened it will nag me until I go to confession if I didn’t cut the grass. I can see it now,

Me: “Father, I haven’t cut my grass in 8 weeks, my yard looks like hell, opps, I mean really natural in it original natural state, and it’s now how to a lot of birds, snakes, lizards, and scorpions. That’s got to count for something?”

Father O’Brien: “Why are you telling me this?” “I thought coming to confession was better than cutting my grass.” It’s not a sin, but say a half dozen Hail Mary’s asking for the strength to cut your grass before you get a fine.”

Me: “Can I ask for someone to surprise me and tell me they are doing it for free?”

Father O’Brien: “You’re walking on the edge. You better leave while you’re ahead.”

I did do the deed. I feel better. My yard looks better. And, I didn’t run into any snakes, lizards, or scorpions. I barely missed a fire ant hill.

Talk Radio Egos and the Art of the Hang-Up: Middle School Takes, Adult Microphones

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Ever tune into a sports talk show and wonder how these guys landed a job yelling into a mic with the emotional maturity of a cafeteria food fight? One minute they’re debating stats, the next they’re acting like they just lost their juice box at recess.

I like to catch a sports talk show podcast every know and then. The hosts have ego’s so big they need to use Vaseline to squeak through the door to get into the studio. If they disagree with a caller they have the ultimate power, they can disconnect the call and go on to the next caller. How do you get a gig like this? Here is a typical call in conversation:

Host: “Hello Bob from Quincy.”

Bob: “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Host: “Bob, can you be more specific? Give us some facts.”

Bob: “Why should I give you facts? You never use them. Your buddy, Zeke, for example, says the Sox pitching sucks. My middle school son says the same thing. I ask him why and he says, “It just does.” So I figure you guys are acting like middle schoolers.”

Host: “You hear that Zeke? Bob says we’re acting like middle schoolers?”

Zeke: “Don’t bother me I’m checking out Tik Tok and my Facebook page. Ask Bob if he’ll give my Facebook page a like.”

Bob: “I heard that. I wouldn’t give your Facebook page a like even if you were giving out free tickets to the Sox games.”

Host: “Bob, do you go to the Sox games?”

Bob: “Whay should I? Their pitiching sucks.”

Host: “Next caller.”

Red Lights, Wrong Assumptions, and a BMW to the Rescue

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I like to think of myself as a punctual guy with a sixth sense for airport timing—kind of like a human flight tracker crossed with a motivational speaker for traffic lights. Turns out, my inner GPS runs on pure hope and bad math. If you’ve ever tried to beat the clock, the construction crew, and your own overconfidence in one mad dash to Arrivals, buckle up. You’re in familiar territory.

Yesterday I was driving to the airport to pick up a friend returning from a trip to Vegas. You’d think I’d figure it out one of these days. I have a mental map of how long it takes me to drive to the airport. When I calculate this mental map I do not consider the possibility of getting a red light, traffic jams, or highway crews working on construction. I do not recommend this type of mental map to anyone who wants to avoid stress. I went online to check a flight tracker. My friend’s plane left on time and was scheduled to arrive 2 minutes early. I checked the time on my iPhone, glanced at my laptop, mentally visualized traffic parting on the highway and letting me zip right through. I decided to delay my leaving for the airport by another 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes later i recheck my friend’s flight status. This time the flight checker gave the plane’s gate arrival, which was the last gate on that terminal wing. I knew her seat number and she was sitting toward the rear of the plane. Why, I could wait another 8 minutes. Five minutes later I again checked with the flight tracker. OMG, the plane was now arriving 5 minutes early. My calculations were not accurate. I went into my garage, got in my car, pulled out and headed for the airport. Thirty seconds later, an alarm went off in my brain. “Ray, did you close the garage door?” I checked my rearview mirror and looked at any signs of oncoming traffic. All clear. I made a U turn as I were in a movie car chase scene. When I got back to my home. The garage door was down. I lost two minutes. I had to make up the time. I have 4 traffic light before I get to the highway. Bing, bing, bing, and bing. All of them red. After the last light, I had a half-mile to make it to the highway,. My brain fired up a big alarm. “Ray, I think there’s a radar trap before you get to the highway.” I was driving toward the top of a hill and can’t see over to the other side. A black BMW comes flying by making me look like a law abiding driver (I was going over the speed limit). When I reached the top of the hill, I saw the BMW pulled over by a motorcycle cop. I slowed down to show the cop I was not like the BMW driver. I was a good citizen. As soon as I got on the highway it was smooth sailing. I pulled into the arrival section just as my friend walked through the doors.

She said, “How was the drive?”

I answered, “Smooth sailing. I don’t like to rush. So, I left with plenty of time.”

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