Weight loss, no sense of humor, and attack of the moles

So first off, we had our Thanksgiving Friday after I got off work.  Laurie did her usual magnificent job with the bird, Jessica whipped out a mean corn casserole, KC did a good job on a tater-tot casserole, and I ate like a madman.  (At about the same time Laurie was saying, "No second helping for me," and KC was re-assessing the size of his second plate, I was elbows-deep in my third- a plate only marginally smaller than the first two.  Which brings up a funny (to me) story.  A couple years ago, when my doctor was all over my arse about my weight  suggesting I should lose a few pounds, I bought us a new digital scale- as the needle-model we had was both hard to read and of questionable accuracy.  Before showering after work that day, I had the lowest reading since I bought the scale- lower, even, then when I was sick last spring and couldn't swallow.  So I came downstairs, and announced:


"I'm at my lowest weight that scale has ever had me at."

(Pause...)


"BOOM!!!"

KC:  "What do you mean, 'boom'?"

ME:  "I mean that's getting blown apart in mere moments!"


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Sunday I got involved in a FB discussion that brought up my total inability to deal with or comprehend people with no sense of humor.  It all started when a friend put up a meme about a den of hillbillies a small town in the meth capitol of Indiana a county north of us.  Certain allegations in the meme bent a women from said small town all out of shape.  She even fought a statistical battle to prove the (meant as a joke) meme wasn't accurate.  It got really stupid, and I exited with what I thought was the one response I should have given the woman in the first place:

"Mizzou grad?"

Followed by:

I am not good with people who can't at least just scroll away from a joke.  I was raised to find things funny.   One of my fondest childhood memories was my Mom's total inability not to laugh at her own farts.  She'd sneak one out and try to keep it to herself.  But as soon as the smell hit her nose, her belly would "shake like a bowlful of jelly", and the proverbial $#!t-eating grin would curl her mouth.  My sister would look up, scream something along the lines of, "Scatter!", and we would do just that as Mom's dammed up laughter burst out.

I used to work as a security guard at a steering wheel plant on its last legs a well-known automotive industry supplier.  To entertain myself and others, I used to do cartoons of my fellow guards and post them on the key box.  One cartoon featured a certain guard who was due in for his shift, and another guard asked me if he had arrived yet.  The next few panels showed his typical last minute screeching entrance into the parking lot and into his spot.  The final panel had me saying, "Yup".  The day after I posted it, I found it in the trash.  I put it back up and found it in the trash, with a note that "I don't find this funny, and don't want to be in any cartoons."  Cry me a river, dude.

I have no inkling how one is raised to be this way, and really don't understand how someone could live their life like that.  There was another guy whom I used to engage in FB "discussions" with, that had a similar take.  He told me, "I have a very good sense of humor.  In fact, my wife and I write for screenplays."


Now I understand why, with the possible exception of The Big Bang Theory, there's nothing out there that can get me to laugh more than 3 times in a half-hour.  It's all too highbrow for my hillbilly unsophisticated tastes.


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And now, Monday pictures...

Except for this one from Sunday, the blue jay who said, "Let me serenade you..."

Scrappy investigating the Green Hole..

...seasonally adjusted to brown.

It's a bit hazy today... I wouldn't be a bit surprise if we get that freezing fog tonight!

Checking out the mud flats

I wasn't intending to climb down there... somebody PULLED me down...

"Who, me?"

The highlight of his walk- the moles must have been close to the surface.  He ran in circles, nose in overdrive, his tail but a blur.