Posted in Views, Humor, Blogdramedy

Merry Happy Jingle Chestnuts

It’s not over yet but 2017 was the year I fully embraced the Stoli. And this will be my first Christmas without turkey. I refuse to get rid of the vodka that’s taking up shelf room in my freezer to make room for a Butterball. Watching Trump peck and scratch his way to obscurity is turkey enough for me.

funny-christmas-card-with-snowman-and-dog-with-red-envelope-canx25-3277-pThe field reporters for The Nudge Wink Report did a stellar job this year, blogging about this, that, and the other thing. We managed to find the funny every week, without missing…okay, we missed a few. Like that time Dave showed up wearing…huh. Just realized I can’t tell that story. Or any of the other reasons some of us missed our deadlines this year. *nudge, wink*

Management is so impressed relieved that we keep turning up even though the coffee around here comes FROM A CAN, they’ve given us the rest of the year off to go forth and be joyful. To find the reason for the season. To jingle our bells. Or to pinch the Grinch. Whatever toasts our chestnuts. Continue reading “Merry Happy Jingle Chestnuts”

Posted in Floridaborne, Humor

SPECIAL REPORT : Cyber Monday Blues

Over the past two months, I’ve been writing down all the things I wanted to look for from Black Friday to Cyber Monday. 

On top of writing 57,000 words for NaNoWriMo in 30 days (That book is going to need a lot of help).

Only one item was out of stock.  If you buy it, and it says the order went through, how can it be out of stock?  Maybe the employees get first pick and you get the condolence card?

I know that people have a variety of opinions about Black Friday and Blue Cyber Monday

The pragmatic among us have this to say

Some people wear armor

Others prepare for battle

Some face this awful challenge:

Unfortunately, after shopping at 10 on-line stores and buying something from every one of them (sometimes twice), my bank account looks like a kids wallet shortly before his monthly allowance hits his hand.

Why does a person like me — someone who hates crowds — prefer to shop online?

I did mention being trampled before, didn’t I?

It was 1984.  My daughter wanted a cabbage patch doll for Christmas.  Yes, I risked decapitation by stiletto for THIS:

Besides the fact that I’m not willing to face death to get stuff any longer, another reason I didn’t want to go anywhere was the huge amount of food that went through my pie hole.

And the fact that I’d been standing for 8 hours, cooking.  After all the turkey was roasted, eaten, cut up, made into frozen lunches for 3 weeks, pies burned and dishes washed, I was ready to do this:

If you find a man who says this, I’ll faint on the spot (probably where the X is marked inside the oven)

I’m looking forward to Christmas, where I can send my gifts to relatives who still want to put up the tree, stuff 100 gifts under it and hang fake stockings on their gas-lit fireplace.

Along with trample-shopping, I avoid the office Christmas party.  This guy seems to attend every single office party in existence.

Frankly, Thanksgiving cleanup is enough for me to avoid more housework torture during the holidays

I rather agree with this sentiment

What will I be doing during Christmas — besides working every single day of December to get my day job done on time? 

I’ll be typing at my books and wondering what the hell I was thinking when I wrote that piece of $#!T for NaNoWriMo.




Posted in Blogdramedy, Humor, News

What I Learned This Week

Taking a Twitter break is not a good idea. I took off a few weeks months, and came back and tweets go from 140 characters to 280 characters and now Trump is starting to make sense. This may shock you but I have zero pull with Twitter and have a better chance of Lake Bell liking one of my tweets (which she totally did btw!) than convincing Twitter to edit back their decision. #bitchtweet

If you watch the news through the bottom of an empty tequila bottle, things don’t look half bad. Continue reading “What I Learned This Week”

Posted in Humor

Sick and Scary

I’ve sat down on the train. I’m tired after a long day at work. I’ve actually got a headache, and I’m hoping for a quiet, peaceful journey. Will I get one… nope. Not at all. Why? Well, lurking in a nearby seat is a biological weapon, a chemical bomb, a vile, repugnant force.


(is it behind me? Please, don’t be behind me!)

I can sense it growing in malice. It’s need to spread its diseased power across the landscape is insatiable. Now it’s making disgusting, squelching, gurgling noises… you know, those wet sounds, like someone walking through thick, wet mud. SLURP SLURP SLURP…

Where is it? What is it?


(it’s really familiar, and I know I’m not going to like what it is…)

The train rumbles along the tracks, juddering and rocking and bumping along. With each new jarring impact, there are groans of woe and fear and dread. Still, one more stop and I’ll be getting off this train…

Except, it’s too late. The final bump triggers the unleashing of this harrowing, terrifying force…

I’m confronted by the coming of The Thing. With that brilliantly disgusting wet ‘blllleeaarrrrerrruk’ sound. What’s happened? What creature has been unleashed?!

The Puke Monster!!!

Basically, a kid on the train was sick.

It’s not really the kid’s fault. I blame the parents for filling them with sugar. Actually, that isn’t fair either. I have no idea why they emptied their stomach. I do know I’m extremely grateful my sense of smell failed me at that moment, and that the train stopped more or less at that moment too. It’s a far cry from a recent flight with my little girl, strapped in and unable to escape as she’s sick over her mother and herself. That I did smell, and I nearly broke out into a sympathetic rainbow-coloured yelp of my own. 

I guess the moral of this story is… well… there isn’t one. If you travel with kids, take a sick bag. Take several. Hope for the best, prep for the worst. Assume they will chunder like thunder. 

Posted in Floridaborne, Humor

Round 99 : Daylight slaving time

In 1918, some idiot came up with the idea that if you jump started your clock an hour you’d have more light.

November 5th, we fall back…retreat with our tails tucked between our legs — like the slaves we are — and turn the clocks back an hour.

Spring forward, fall back.  We do it every year, and every year I say the same D@#n%d thing.

Why don’t we just

move the clock up a half hour in March

and stop F&$#ing with time!

There are those who shamelessly try to make it seem like fun, having your inner time clock fubarred year after year. 

The Indians tried to warn us

Others find opportunity in doing a time jump 

I happen to agree with this lady

For this reason

My cat has another way of putting it

But I like this sentiment the best

I would say this

But whoever invented daylight slaving time would be well over 120 years old and I think nature has already done that for me.

There is at least one place in the USA where enough legislators possessed more than the common sense of a turnip.

That’s more than I can say for a person who makes a meme about Arizona from a picture of the Alps.

For those who would like to provide your legislators with a message they’ll never forget

I prefer the less explosive approach to solving this ridiculous problem.  

We no longer need daylight slaving time!

Legislators, get rid of your Ho’s, get out of bed, and get rid of this archaic and useless practice.

Politicians don’t seem to get it. Maybe this guy would listen to reason.

Anyone who can vanquish ice giants can get rid of anything.

Posted in 1 Point Perspective, Humor

My Dog Ate My Blog Post…and other lies

There’s the culprit. She took my blog post off the coffee table and ate it as she sat under this Leyland cypress. She had the runs for three days after – my writing is not easily digested.

The more alert among you may have noticed that I posted absolutely nothing when it was my turn the last time here at The Nudge Wink Report.  I would’ve written, but I’ve stumbled onto something that’s bigger than mere humor bloggery.

It began innocently enough.  As you may know, I’ve begun brewing beer in earnest, and blogging much less.  The inherent risks of moving ten or eleven gallons of very hot, sugary wort without burning or breaking myself were becoming more and more clear. Not wishing to suffer a scalded hernia, I knew it was time to look into getting a pump.  As a quick aside, my long-suffering wife has been a saint in tolerating my frequent expenditures for all sorts of Teutonic-sounding gizmos.  I’ve learned that it’s always best to at least attempt buying used stuff before whipping out a credit card ordering from

Thus I found myself on Craigslist looking for a pump.  What I uncovered there gave me chills.  There’s a massive surplus of used breast pumps out there!  We’ve once again created a technology which by its very nature outlives its useful years with virtually no resale value.  Is it a stretch (mark) to wonder what may become of all those valves, vacuums and anatomically-designed nipple saddles?  The technology just gets cooler – I see your Dick Tracy two-way wrist radio and raise you my noise cancelling head-phones with Bluetooth compatibility and scalp massage function.

Clearly the stage is set for the coming man-versus-robot war for planetary dominance.  The discarded breast pumps will likely become foot soldiers in an army which will include Mr. Coffees, non-oscillating oscillating fans, cassette decks and everyone’s last five cell phones.  I’m giving up on humor – big loss I know – and using my massive following of readers to sound the alarm.  Stop worrying about the jack asses in Washington and focus on the real threat.

I used this doodle covered handout in a post back in December of 2015. I’m like the Nostrildamos of techno-phobes.

I’d write more, but my blender has been sizing me up the entire time I’ve been typing.  Better hit “Publish” before the router mysteriously turns off.