An Open Letter to My Grandma’s Harp – Nancy Davis Kho

nancy davis khoThere you sit, in the corner of my dining room, a 100 year old beauty in a state of Miss Haversham disrepair. Your sinuous curves, outlined to great advantage with thin scrolls of gold paint, contrast sharply with the strings that pop out in odd directions. You exude such a magnetic charm that children and adults alike are drawn to pluck your strings, to run their hands along your dusty angles, and finally to ask the question that you hypnotize them into uttering:

“Who plays the harp?”

And I have to answer, every single stupid time, “No one.”

Ok! I never learned to play you! Get over yourself! You’re not the only instrument in the world!

My paternal grandmother was what might be diplomatically be called “reserved,” stiffening her arms at her side when we hugged her and sending back our thank you notes with red-lined corrections. Once, when my brother complimented her cooking, she sighed, leaned heavily against the counter, and said as if in pain, “It’s only a casserole.” So when my father told me after her death that she left me her precious 1923 Irish harp, I was touched. She remembered me! And this is the harp she carted around to old folk’s homes to give concerts, when she herself was an old folk. “She knew how much you like music,” my dad said. “She wanted you to have it.”

Music as in going to concerts and downloading songs until the credit card is smoking, yes, I like that type of music. Music as in playing it myself? Not since that fateful ninth grade day when I broke my arm in a game of tag football and finally had my escape from Mrs. Hargrave’s piano lessons. Or as my brother refers to it, “That day you stopped playing piano, one month exactly after Mom and Dad bought you a brand new one.” [Read more...]

Remember the Cool – Hall and Oates

hall-and-oates-funny

I realize that sometimes things are so uncool that they’re cool. I learned the inverse of this concept when flipping through a baby name book my mother had bought before I was born, which listed “Megan” in the section “Names so in, they’re out ,” which pretty much means that, as a fetus, I was already doomed to a life of being just a few indie rock references short of an OC episode. I also realize that there are some things which people love “ironically,” and this just pisses me off, because I’m really into sincerity. I’ve only based, like, three of my past four relationships on lies regarding either my sexual history, religion, or feelings toward Arcade Fire.

Anyways, this column is a list of things that aren’t cool but should be because I have declared them awesome: [Read more...]

Ask The Suniverse on FnS – Vol. 1 Edition 6

 
Suniverse-Funny-AdviceConfused? Uncertain? Worried that you’re not quite fresh enough down there? I’m here to solve all your problems. As an oldest child, I’m quite used to bossing people around and telling them what to do. As someone who has spent countless years and more student loan money than I’d care to think about attending ever more esoteric classes, I’m filled with the type of knowledge that isn’t suitable anywhere else. Questions? Contact me at suniverse[dot]email[at]gmail[dot]com. You can also enjoy my profanity-laced invective at my blog, The Suniverse, or follow me on Twitter, @TheSuniverse. Enjoy, lovers.

Dear Suniverse,

If nuns are all the brides of the Big Man … doesn’t that make them celestial law-breaking polygamists?

Sincerely,

Fast Track to You Know Where

[Read more...]

Eat This! Loaded Balls

 

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Eat This! on Funny not Slutty – Real recipes, made real funny.

by Heather Davis

Be sure to tell your guests to keep a napkin handy because these balls are juicy and will squirt in their mouths and dribble down their chins if they aren’t careful. Some might swallow; some might try it, but spit it out; and many guests won’t even eat them after you tell them this and that would leave more for you!

3 slices bread, cubed (or if you have a child who decided to make bread soup by dumping a whole loaf of bread in a bowl of water the day you decided to cook these, you could just use 1 cup of bread crumbs)

1 c milk

1 egg

½ t garlic salt

1 t salt

½ c chopped celery (or celery seed for the picky husband who refuses to eat celery, but doesn’t notice one single bit when you use celery seed)

½ c chopped onion

1 lb hamburger

1 lb hot sausage (bulk)

(Or you can do 2 lbs hamburger or 2 lbs turkey if you’re all “Biggest Loser” and whatnot) [Read more...]

In Defense of Slutty Halloween Costumes – Slutty but Funny

Seriously women, lets talk. I think we can all agree that we are a very different breed of ladies nowadays. We go to college. We graduate. We make big money. We practically rule the world at this point.

And I think we can also unanimously agree, that what we do, how we act, and the way we dress is not for the gentlemen-folk in our lives. Oh no, no, no. That shit is for us. [Read more...]

Weather Forecast – Sandy Stec

I’m pretty sure Sandy Stec missed her calling….

http://www.sandystec.com

A Day of the Life of Lisa B. by Jane Austen

by Lisa B.

This basically happened like I wrote it except I needed to change the dialogue to the jist of what was said. Anyway, enjoy!

Gane Austen
Jane Austen, celebrated early 19th century author, now guest blogger. 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady who wishes to send off an item bartered on eBay must be in want of packaging tape. Ah, this lamentably was the state of affairs and such a deprivation could not be borne. 

Our lady, a Rubenesque spinster of three-and-thirty years, suggested to her mother a scheme of going to the shop down the way post-haste, for it was a week until Christmas and the best of couriers could not always send the required article in time. Fearing the wrath of an angry gentleman who had placed his custom and faith upon her, the lady commenced in her carriage, her good lady mother as chaperone. The mother, sullen, melancholy, and hinting  her disapprobation at her, said, ” Make certain, daughter, that you buy something sweet for the time we feel peckish.”


Our lady fresh from her visit to the Family Dollar
 
The establishment frequented by all the ton of the neighbourhood and surrounding villages was called the Family Dollar and carried sundry  items for sale. This mainly consisted of treasures imported from the orient, a plethora of genuine plastics molded into dishes and playthings for children, plus toiletries designed to cover smallpox scars and other maladies of ladies in need of the refinery. 
 
The lady’s mother had her filial daughter go inside without her guiding  hand, confident that she would find no disgrace within its doors. Nay, no disgrace indeed as our lady meandered the aisles of the store plucking up the tape, chocolate mint patties, and some sort of Christmas mint that once dissolved took on a consistency like gum. Looking at the cookies without her mother to advise which to procure, as her mother’s dark mood seemingly prevented her from issuing any hint of preference, she selected a large package of vanilla sandwich cookies with cream. 

Taking these items to the cash register, our  lady was assailed by the sounds of the music peculiar to certain sects of religion. This genre, aptly titled “Christian Pop,” seldom reached the tender regions of her soul as the lyrics and music intended. Instead of invoking all the comforts of religion, she oft, when not spared , chose to dissect the lyrics of such songs as though they were written by lovestruck poets for their would-be paramours. This song, however, was in a somewhat different strain, invoking the Lord thus:
Jesus is just all right with me, Jesus is just all right… 

La! But an older lady, finding such a ditty insufferable, called attention to the young man attending the till. “I say, boy, this music you play upon yonder radio device, is that your personal preference?” 

“Nay, madame,” said the young man. “Rather ’tis the preference of the lady proprietors.” 

“I see,” spoke the lady with consternation. “You should play something soothing.” 

“Ah, the ladies grew weary of the station that plays the Christmas music for the entirety of the season.” 

“But that’s what the customers wish to hear whilst shopping, and they should think of the customers!” punctuated that lady. 

You’d think they were playing the unexpurgated works of Eminem to hear her speak. A pretty thing this, thought our lady as she rushed from the edifice. She could not help, aversion to such music notwithstanding, how unpleasant were the manners of that lady. 


An example of a carriage
 
Later, our lady and her mother arrived at the post office, and once more the spinster was left to her own devices as her mother waited. Soon our lady was amid a bustle of humanity all converging in a final frantic bid to send parcels for arrival by Yuletide. She was waited upon by a lady who could be surly to some, but never to the spinster. “Is there anything fragile, liquid, perishable , or potentially hazardous inside, Madame?” 

“Well…” said our lady, thinking back to a most helpful posting upon the wall sometime ago listing items that were foolhardy to send via courier, “the ___ has batteries inside.”  [Read more...]