Thursday, 30 December 2010

Adventures in Panamaland (1) The Eyes Have It

Our trip to Panama began on a most positive note. My wife, her aunt - Tante Poutine - and I were all upgraded to First Class on our Air Transat flight from Toronto to Panama City. Not bad. Eggs Benedict, cinnamon buns and a couple of mimosas and I was set for the 5 hour flight. We spent the first day and-a-half at the Panama Sheraton Four Points until the rest of the family - my wife's mother, brother and nephew - arrived from Kelowna.


With nothing else to do we took a tour. Our guide Carlos took us to the Panama Canal at the Miraflores locks where we watched a couple of tankers move through. Then it was off to the old part of Panama, much of which is under renovation. But we hit the area around noon and there was wall to wall cars on the narrow streets with nowhere to park. No problem. We'd seen the area the last time we were in Panama.


About 8pm the rest of the family arrived in a KIA van and so we loaded our luggage, golf bags and ourselves into the vehicle and the six of us took off for a two hour drive to Bijao Beach Club and Residences near San Carlos where my brother-in-law has a condo. Mrs. D and I went for a short walk to the beach, just to dip our feet in the Pacific and on our way back to the condo we ran into a ninja. Scared the bejesus out of us. The resort has dark-garbed security guards that patrol the place night and day. Being night, this guy and his sidearm seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Holla" we chirped nervously. He gave us a smile, which was about the only thing we could see in the dark, and a wave. Well, good to know we're protected. Made me think of that saying "You're in good hands with Allstate". Better than the other expression which had come to mind: "Bend over, put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye". After that it became popular among us to play "spot the ninja" as we sat on the balcony of my brother-in-law's condo, sipping a cold one, in between trips to the beach. Hey - to paraphrase Sarah Palin - I can see Hawaii from here!


A couple of days after we arrived we all loaded into the van for a trip down the highway for dinner. Our waiter went to great pains to explain to us the "specials" on the menu. It's a good thing my brother-in-law speaks Spanish. He was able to tell us how highly recommended the specials were. Highly recommended, indeed. They were so highly recommended that when three of us ordered from the "specials" we learned there weren't any left. I don't know about you but when faced with a menu full of food I haven't the slightest idea what I'd get if I ordered it I always revert to that age-old maxim "when in doubt, order shrimp." So I did. Off the Appetizer part of the menu - breaded shrimp. Three others ordered shrimp off the a la carte part of the menu, two breaded, one not. They realized they might be in trouble when Mrs D's 11 year old nephew asked, "Hey, are those eyes?" Indeed they were. Have you heard that phrase "your eyes were bigger than your stomach"? On this occasion those eyes were supposed to go in their stomachs. Luckily, ordering an Appetizer, my breaded shrimps came without the eyes. I just can't eat something that's staring back at me off the plate.


But that wasn't all. The best part of the meal was yet to come. Speaking of eyes, my poor dear mother-in-law, now into her 80s and with her sight not what it once was, prevailed upon her son to open her round plastic container of tartar sauce as she was unable to. I''m not sure what was more priceless - the look on her face as she continued to insist he open the container or the look on his face as his eyes darted back and forth from his mom to his hand as he held the object of her request. "Open what, open what?" he repeated. "That, that!" she replied."What, what" he replied frustratedly. "That, that" she snapped with an equal level of frustration. It turned out that in the dimly-lit outdoor restaurant, mom and her failing eyesight had asked her son to open…a half a lime. Sure, an easy mistake. But I wonder if any of those bright-eyed shrimp would have made it.


Monday, 20 December 2010

Silent Blog




Silent blog, oh my God
Noname's gone, and we nod
Round yon Christmas break he snores
Holy shit will he come back for more?
All he wants is some peace
All he wants is some peace.

Silent blog, I don't jest
Bloggers quake 'cause I'll rest
Cut off from the internet star
Mrs. Dufus sings Alleluia
Christ, my readers'll be bored
Christ, my readers'll be bored.

Silent blog, no posts done
A month yeah, I'll be gone
No posts will beam from my holy blog
I'll be too busy drinking grog
Stay tuned for my return
Stay tuned for my return.



Merry (insert appropriate ethnic/religious reference here) everyone. Thanks for stopping in throughout 2010. We'll see you in the new year.

Saturday, 18 December 2010

Pause Ponder and Peas


This has been quite a week for nonamedufus. If I Had Kim Kardashian's Ass ranked as the most viewed post here last week with over 600 page views, pulling ahead of my readers' all-time favourite No Sex Please We're Japanese and the ever-popular Chesticles. It's good to know people prefer Kim Kardashian's ass to that of Richard Simmons, although I have to say I'm a chesticle man myself. Kim's ass also ranked #1 over at PostZoom this week. Who would have guessed.

I started a poll feature last week, up there in the right hand corner. In our first survey, I learned that more readers liked peas than disliked them. Yuck. Losers.

And, finally, we had a record number of people participate in Pause Ponder and Pun this week. And, again, we had so many great captions it was hard to come up with our winner. Our honourable mentions, more than usual, give you some idea of how good all our submissions were...


Homeland Security - keeping you safe for the Holidays



Merry Christmas from the Cheneys



This week on "Sarah Palin's Alaska..."



Sarah Palin strikes again, "I betcha you didn't know that not only is Russia in my
backyard, but I see Santa occasionally too."



No Virginia, there IS no freakin' Santa Claus

But my favourite this week combined his penchant for puns with our pea poll. His caption shows he knows a little something about me. I guess that's only natural seeing how Whitey's my brother...

"You know I got no issue with good will to men, but when he started talking
about spreading peas on Earth..."

Hahahahaha. Yep, that's my brother alright. He also submitted:

"This one's for Grandma!"

which had me snorting my Christmas Corona outta my left nostril. God-bless you Whitey...and the Irish Rovers.

Way to go Whitey, you be hangin with brother dufus this week!



And thanks to everyone for playing along this week. And if our picture's any indication it won't matter if you've been naughty or nice this year! God bless us everyone. Merry Christmas. everybody.

Friday, 17 December 2010

Give Them My Name, You'll Get A Good Seat

I don't know about you but when I go to the bathroom, I, um, erm, ah, go to the bathroom. Frankly, I'm in there for a reason and nothing's gonna come between me and my, un, relief.

When I was a kid, I knew a guy that used to practice his clarinet on the toilet. No that's not a euphemism. If you came to the door to call on him and heard the clarinet you knew where he was. His Dad said he spent so much time on the toilet seat he had a ring around his ass. I wonder if it wasn't a ploy to mask his grunts and groans as he did his business? He'd never admit to it.

I came across a survey this week about what people do in the bathroom. It seems I'm in the minority. Whereas I'm there to do my business, most people are there for another purpose.

The folks from Georgia-Pacific make Quilted Northern toilet paper and conducted a survey into people's bathroom habits. Seems folks are more sociable in the John than on Facebook. I guess you could say they're getting their message across while tinkling not Twittering.

41 per cent of those polled thought the bathroom was a great place to gossip; 30 per cent said they talk about their jobs (presumably the ones in the office not the toilet) and 20 per cent discuss sex. That's discuss sex, not have sex. All told 86 per cent of people say bathrooms are a great place for a personal conversation. Oh sure they'll tell perfect strangers the most intimate details of their sex lives but at least 56 per cent don't feel comfortable asking the person in the next stall to pass them the toilet paper.

Here's something I know you'll be interested in learning. 31 per cent of those surveyed scrunch their toilet paper while 28 per cent favour the folding method. Hmm, fewer anal type than I imagined. There appears to not have been a question on the old unrolling the toilet paper over or under. Damn.

Finally, most people don't say they're going to the "bathroom". 26 per cent said they were going to "use the potty". Oh yeah like that sounds better. 21 per cent said they were off to "heed nature's call" and 26 per cent said they were going to "drop a deuce". What, now they're playing poker in there? No sign of my personal favourite, "I'm gonna go for a dump".

I'm kind of flushed by all this toilet talk. Who knew going to the bathroom now a days means something else entirely.

Excuse me. I've got to, erm, drop a deuce and write my next post.

This poopy post first plopped at The Parody Files.

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Is This Idea Dead On?


Interesting news last week for movie fans. Star Wars mastermind George Lucas is taking CGI to the next level. And he's digging deep to bring the latest cinematic development to the screen. I don't mean his wallet. After all, what's money to George Lucas? No he's digging deep into the graves of dead stars to resurrect them on screen.

This is a fascinating, if not ghoulish, development. Ha, I wonder if this is the only way for Mel Gibson to resurrect his film career? He's sure having trouble doing it while he's alive.

Will Lucas call his film Night of The Living Dead? Oh, right, that's been done before.

Maybe he could raise Herve Villechaize, Gary Coleman and Billy Barty from the grave for a film. I dunno. It'd probably be a short. How about a remake of Little Men?

If it's a Star Wars sequel he's planning, Chris Farley might make for an entertaining Jabba the Hut.

And Liberace might take a turn as Gay Radar, a distant cousin of Darth Vader, "Luke, I'm not your father."

How about digging up Joan Crawford and Bette Davis. Maybe we'll find out whatever happened to baby Jane?

There's a big trend these days towards remakes and reimaginings of films in Hollywood. So here are some possibilities with back from the dead actors in leading roles.

Star Gores

Didn't Die So Hard After All

Full Metal Casket

No Need To Save Private Ryan

A Few Good Dead Men

It's A Wonderful Afterlife

The Undeparted

Dead and Deader

Slow and Not So Furious

Conan The Zombie

The Ghoul With The Dragon Tattoo

Not Gone in 60 Seconds (Not Gone Ever)

Face/Off, Hands/Off, Ears/Off

The Casket Crashers

God I hope George Lucas rethinks this. Lord help us if it's the next big thing!

Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Pause Ponder and Pun #64 - Christmas Edition

Ho-ho-ho...

Leave your caption of Christmas cheer.

And then we'll see you back here...

Saturday.

Monday, 13 December 2010

Meteorological Music


In 1975 Bob Dylan wrote a great song called Hurricane, based on the injustices done to boxer Rubin "Hurricane" Carter. A great song.

But few people know that Dylan went through many drafts based on other, little-known, people from many different walks of life before arriving at a song he could feel comfortable with. For instance...

His first choice for the tune was a pretty young prostitute he'd met in a bar in New Orleans. That song was titled: Wanda "Warm Front" Brown.

Then he thought Tiny "Tornado" White would make for a great subject for a song but that was before the Ajax people threatened to sue.

Next he considered writing a song about Bobby "Blizzard" King but the folks at Dairy Queen said uh-uh.

Not to be deterred Bob then came up with some lyrics about Bob "Hail The Size of Golf Balls" Bryant but decided a song about worshiping little white orbs just wouldn't swing.

Then he penned a ditty about Peter "Ice Pellets" Jenkins but his publisher gave him the cold shoulder.

The tune Robbie "Rainy Season" Jones was a washout.

And an attempt to set music to Dan "Dust Storm" Dandy was simply swept aside.

He came really close with Tony "Tornado" and Dawn but something like that had already been done.

Then one day he was eating a rueben sandwich at Carter's Restaurant on the south side of Chicago with Jim Croce who was trying to spit into the wind and the rest is musical history!

Saturday, 11 December 2010

Pause Ponder and Perfidy

Hey, no one picked up on my Neil Sedaka reference Wednesday. Don't you remember his 1962 #1 hit Breaking Up Is Hard To Do? I guess none of you were born then. Moving quickly along...

Man we had a lot of funny captions submitted this week. This had to be one of the toughest weeks yet for poor old dufus to choose a winner. You guys really brought your "A" game, for sure. Here are our honourable mentions...


A couple discusses all of Obama's great ideas.



Yuri Geller attempts to bend the spoon in Natasha's cup. If successful,
he will then attempt to bend Natasha to his will.
ba_hutch



How am I going to tell her I'm dating her mother?



Tom desperately wanted to have sex with Julie.
But he couldn't remember his best lines.



But Linda over at The Good, The Bad, The Worse went in a whole different direction this week with her winning caption:


You caught it off a toilet seat?

Way to go Linda, you be hangin' with the dufus this week. Congratulations. Here's your own dufus badge. Wear it with pride.


Oh, Neil Sedaka may well have been singing about toilet seats...


Friday, 10 December 2010

Has Charlie Lost His Sheen?



There's not much to distinguish Charlie Sheen from Charlie Harper the womanizing, alcohol-abusing character he plays on television. And that's sad. Because as far as I'm concerned, this art imitating life thing is wearing thin.

I don't know what the ratings are like for Two And -A-Half Brain Cells this season, but I'm not watching it anymore. I don't need to. All I have to do is read TMZ or watch Entertainment Tonight to laugh at Charlie Sheen.

Sure the show was funny because the writing took a cheeky and clever approach to Sheen's real life downward spiral through unsuccessful marriages, prostitutes, drug and alcohol abuse and trips to court.

But when Sheen's latest real-life problems continually become fodder for the tabloids and info-tainment shows, Harper's faults and foibles just aren't funny anymore. And for this he earns over $1 million dollars per episode. $1 million? Hell the guy doesn't even have to act.

However, the guy has opened the door to a whole new genre of situation comedies. Think of the stars standing by to get in on this new approach to TV. Mel Gibson, who can't even get a walk-on on the big screen is sure to soar on the little screen once his Two And-A-Half Sugertits debuts.

What about Brett Favre, alleged to have texted a New York Jets female employee pictures of his junk? He could be looking for a second career soon. I can see him and the object of his affections starring in How I Met Your Penis.

David Arquette recently split from Courtney Cox. Who you say? You know the guy from those Scream movies. Be sure and check out Desperate Househusbands when it begins.

And finally, they're saying Tiger Woods has a sit-com in development based on his life. The program, currently filming under the working title The Big Bang Theory, will have to change it's name as a program with that title already exists. Golfers Gone Wild is set to hit screens this spring.


This post originally appeared at The Parody Files, but nobody seems to read that stuff so I repeated it here.

Thursday, 9 December 2010

Turning The Tables On Vegetables

I hate vegetables. There I said it. I feel better now. This has been something I've bottled up inside myself since childhood. And I have my dear departed parents to blame.

Well, who else? Safe to blame them now that they're no longer here to defend themselves. They did their best with me, though. They always gave me what they were having. Lima beans. Blech! Creamed corn. Double blech!! Wax beans. Triple blech!!! I think you get the idea.

I feel for ya kid

But the worst of all, however, was canned peas. We didn't have frozen peas when I was a kid. Although it would have been a cold day in July before I ate them, too.

I remember the strategies I'd devise at the dinner table. If I didn't hate the veggies on my plate too much I'd load them up in my mouth and take a big swig of milk. This would more often than not make me choke and I'd spit milk and vegetables clear across the table. I didn't care. At least I didn't have to swallow them.

Sometimes I did a reverse take on this. Loaded up on the veggies. Raised the milk glass to my mouth. And spit them into my glass of milk. Of course this deception only worked until dinner was done and Dad would rinse the dishes. He'd pour out the milk plus my serving of vegetables into the sink and I'd be caught.

What often worked was loading myself up with my portion of vegetables and then excuse myself from the table with a mumbled "Ah haff ta gho ta uhn baffwoom" (I have to go to the bathroom) then make a beeline for the facility where I'd spit out all the offending legumes and quickly flush. Then I'd return to the table and my folks were none the wiser. Or so I thought.

But Mom went to great lengths to ensure my brothers and I got our fair share of vitamins via vegetables. Like all good Catholic families, we didn't eat meat on Fridays. Mom often prepared a tuna casserole. In those days, a tuna casserole consisted of what one today would call Kraft Dinner, sprinkled with tuna and...wait for it...Mom's own special contribution...canned peas. That's right. Peas. Mixed into the casserole. There'd be no spitting them into my glass of milk. I'd have to eat them right along with the tuna and noodles.

Memories of Mom

To this day I remember Mom's trick. And I've never eaten another pea!

I guess you could say, unlike John Lennon, I never gave peas a chance.

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Pause Ponder and Pun #63

Waddaya think?

Inspiration for Neil Sedaka, maybe?

Why don't you give it a go.

Check back Saturday to see who be hangin' with dufus.

Sunday, 5 December 2010

The Worst Christmas Present Ever


My pals over at Tribal Blogs are holding their first Blog Carnival today and the subject is the worst Christmas present ever.

Remember Ralphie in the movie A Christmas Story? His, as my readers point out, Aunt Clara sent him a bunny costume. Yeah, it sure sucked to be him.

Hey sometimes Christmas doesn't work out for some of us. Look at my grandsons last Christmas. Things went from this...

...to this...


Heh, heh. That's one picture my daughter doesn't want to share too widely. So keep quiet about it, okay?

When I was a kid, Christmas was such a special time. The snow outside, the tree, the lights, the food, visiting relatives and neighbours. And of course the presents.

My own kids loved Christmas too and would pore through the Sears Wish Book Catalogue as soon as it arrived in the mail, dog-earing pages upon pages of pictures of gifts they wanted for Christmas.

And they were pretty lucky. They usually got most of what they asked for. Today the grandkids are luckier than ever, although the twins last year had more fun with the boxes their presents came in than with the presents themselves.

Myself? Not so lucky. You know there should be a ban on certain items that parents get their kids for Christmas. Yeah, you know. The stores should stop selling certain things during the month of December.

When I was a kid I'd ask for a tricycle, or a wagon, or a Meccano set, or some such thing I'd have my heart set on.

I'd be up ahead of everyone else Christmas morning to see what Santa had left under the tree. I'd check out the name tags to see what presents were for me and I'd even shake a package or two to see if I could guess what was inside.

Slowly but surely the rest of the family would start to stir, and gather around the tree. I'd be so anxious I'd almost wet myself. C'mon guys, let's get going.

And then I'd be given the honour of opening the first gift. I'd tear the pretty bows and ribbon to shreds and rip off the wrapping paper to expose a medium sized box.

What the heck could it be? I hesitated. Was it the toy truck I'd asked for? Maybe it was a Davey Crocket hat - cool. I slowly lifted the lid of the box and peeked inside to see...sox and underwear!

"Um, ah, gee, guys, er, thanks a lot. It's, ah, just what I wanted."

And I must have sounded pretty sincere, because I got that same gift almost every year until I left home at the age of 20.

But I never ran out of sox...or underwear.

Just what he wanted?


Wanna read more posts about weird and wonderful Christmas experiences? Just click on the button below to see who all is participating...

TribalBlogs Carnival

Or click on this link The Worst Christmas Present Ever by Babs at Beetle Blog for a gift from one of my fellow Tribal Bloggers. Tell her dufus sent ya.

Sunday Funnies










Saturday, 4 December 2010

Pause Ponder and Perverted Pets

Our little friend in the picture looks like she's enjoying her noodles. They must taste good. Speaking of good taste, here's this week's winning captions, beginning with our honourable mentions.


Introducing the Sham Face Wow!
Worried about noodle splashes? Worry no more
with a Sham Face Wow! Order now and you'll get
two for the price of ONE! Call now.
Operators are waiting.




The unfortunate result of forgetting to remove your
bubble-gum before eating your noodles.



Whoopie cushions make lousy fashion accessories.



But dufus doesn't want captions with good taste! No. Our winner this week is the absolutely tasteless Skeeter from Dead Dog with:

She was sooooo ugly, her parents put that fake anus on her face
to get the dog to like her.

Way to go Skeeter. You be hangin' with the dufus. Congratulations, dude!


See you guys next week. Oh, and hey, if you're literate you may want to catch my post from earlier in the week The Bloggerhood Of The Traveling Book. I think apart from the 4 literate comments I got the rest of the folks that dropped by Thursday must have been illiterate. Dunno. Just sayin'. Not too late to leave a comment, though. Cheers.

Friday, 3 December 2010

If I Had Kim Kardashian's Ass




I’m sure Kim Kardashian is a wonderful person. I mean being a reality show harlot and a sex tape queen aside – two essential celebutante assets, to be sure – I’m certain she’s a very nice individual, entirely worthy of being a BFF (Biggest Fanny Forever) to Paris “That’s So Hot” Hilton.
Speaking of two assets, there’s no doubt when snapped from behind by the pursuing paparazzi who those ass cheeks belong to. Uh-huh. None other than double K. She’s got it all over J- LO and Beyonce. All over. And that’s saying something ’cause those girls are really out there in the BAAS – Biggest Ass in America Sweepstakes.
Kim and her ass are so lucky compared to me and my boney rump. If I had KK’s ass…
1) sitting on a sharp object would go largely unnoticed
2) it wouldn’t go to sleep while sitting on the toilet
3) you could fart in public and not worry about it finding it’s way out until 3 days later
4) it would give new meaning to being cheeky
5) hell, it would give new meaning to turn the other cheek – “Look out. Step back. She’s getting ready to turn the other cheek!”
However on the down-side:
1) she has to grease up every time she wants to slip into a pair of jeans
2) she buys her thongs from Omar the tent maker
3) on the dance floor she’s never asked her to shake her booty
4) when she backs up she emits a “beep-beep-beep” sound
5) TSA agents fight over who gets to do the cavity search, in fact I think one might already be trapped in there
You know Kim’s a rich kid. But while she comes from a well-to-do family she says she’s had it hard. Between you and me I tend to think she’s never had to work her ass off, if you get my drift.
After all is said and done, though, I think you’d have to admit that’s one posterior for posterity.
This post about protruding posteriors first appeared at The Parody Files.
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