Tag: funny

BEANS ANYONE

Think back on your most memorable road trip.

At the time I was 19 could’ve been 18 we went on a road trip from Kitchener Ontario to Kingston Mosport500. That was a long time ago.

My boyfriend and I left on a motorcycle his brother and wife went in a Camaro with the top down. We all had a great ride as for us, it rained pretty hard; the Camaro put its top up , at least the traffic was fine, everything was fine until a bee flew down my shirt. It’s not fine anymore. We parked the motorcycle I got off and started stripping, carefully not to get stung, and when I looked up, there was an old man so full of joy standing in the window with such a happy jolly face staring down at me, I had no time to be ashamed or embarrassed-petrified of being stung.

Now arriving at Mosport it was dark, we were wet, the car people were fine, and it was really late at night, we pitched the tent, we slept, yes in our wet clothes and woke to roaring sounds of the ring ding dinging of roaring motorcycles.

I work first and went out I was shocked but the scenery was too comical I had to giggle and laugh and I had to wake everybody up to come outside just to see where we pitched our tents.

Right in the middle of the practice field! We had to move of course. So we re-pitched the tent we made a campfire they put me in charge of the food. while we were doing our best to dry off.

Beans anyone? Yes, that’s what we brought, a can of beans loaf of bread whatever else but for breakfast everybody would like the beans on toast that the two men were British, beans on toast it was.

Now, don’t ask me how I did it, because I don’t know, but I cooked the beans, I toasted eight slices of bread, put the bread on plates. Now everybody had their plate, of beans toast and a spoon. Now everybody was so happy and I don’t know what happened next? But somehow, I dropped my plate of beans and it went in her long blonde hair, it went all over her husband’s clothes & someone on his face, it went into my man’s clothes and his long hair. . .Oh my, and I had ONE bean on my boot. I did my best not to laugh as she had herself bent over scraping beans out of her hair and tossing it to the ground and he was swiping off his self and pulling it out of his hair so was my man, and I was just standing there picking one bean off my boot.

It was a very good thing Mosport put on a great show so great even a news reporter was knocked out of a tree from a runaway bike that went up the tree knocking the guy and his camera out. Yup, it was a great time, and one I will never forget.

But of course there are two more incidents on two other road trips with the same people but that’s another story.

Mosport Indy 500 beans anyone.

COMING SOON TO AMAZON

THE FLASK DRINKERS

Another story by me. I’m sure the cover will be different. But should you wonder to close to a certain cemetery…Hmm, you will need your flask at hand. some curses are to be taken seriously, not to be invaded just for pure speculation putting the world at risk.

MY FIRST EDITION PHOBIA THE AFTERMATH

Hello to my great full respected readers. I am always pleased when you enjoy my silly thoughts. Thank-you.

I know it has been a while that I have blogged, but I have been quite busy, trying to edit a book I have written in 1996, with all these children my daughter kept having, lol. There is no time!

Now that these children are the ages of 15, 12, 9 and 6, all soon, starting this month until September they all will be one year up. 🥳

Oh bother, that with the mother losing her head and off to find it and their father incarcerated, the full responsibility is still mine and great full they are in school allowing me to edit this one story out of several, at last.

Now, need I remind you my brain is not functioning as the term normal on any scale of degrees. Meaning I started out dumb and continued in that fashion until I had my own children forcing me to be the best possible teacher allowing them to grow in a safe environment and make them to be five times smarter than I could ever be.

Of course living in my shoes from day one, born in an outhouse in the winter, and given away at four months, kidnapped at 16-18 months, then from an orphanage by the age of three only to be molested from the age of three to seven. Then from the age of ten to fifteen beat where I ran away to the children’s aid Society. That was a bad place to live until my father fought getting me out at the age of 17 1/2 and never looked back.

I can tell you the only thing I cared about was not getting a lick en and what was for supper? Meaning, school meant absolutely nothing to me, I thought it was a punishment? So what I learned was people are extremely cruel, mean, bullies and only care about themselves. So I trusted nobody! And practiced for twelve years lol, to be the best spy ever. Didn’t help much.

By the time I was 15, I was raped, attacked, driven to the bush, <<<>>> I laugh at that now, then, it was scary as big spiders falling on you, scary as lightning hammering down right in front of you, scary as falling off a boat into shark laced waters. I’m just happy to be alive.

My first day starting a job at a hospital I was attacked being held up off the floor by a mad man, I took the wrong door. 🤓 I got the day off.

But all in all I have Heroed several times without a second thought, and always prevented with the triumph of God by my side or in my body strength and purpose.

On the serious side of things. I’ve been run over by horse and buggy run down three times before my mother stopped it, hit my car twice and here I am today. I believe I died once, and I know I spoke to the Lord-he spoke to me. I guess my mission is to raise these children.

Oh wait a minute . . . are you supposed to die when your mission in life is over or something there like that, if that’s the case I don’t want that mission I don’t wanna know my mission my mission better still be confusing and somewhere still out there.

I started writing stories when my children were in school, and me rotten at spelling and grammar and pronunciation and punctuation and a whole whack of things. 😌 the difference between (is and was). Oh bother. Present and past. But when typing my mind has no time for perfection, as I see in my mind as I tell…is, is happening now.

Anyways.

My first edition-PHOBIA THE AFTERMATH

It did all start with the black floater in my left eye causing me to always slapping out at NOTHING! Then I started wondering how to rid of it, and my mind went berserk, all by itself.

THE END

Until the FLASK DRINKERS

Working on that now.

MY STORY

Hey this is my story. Almost complete.

I must say the timing is taking for ever that I am doing my own editing. Seriously, so far this story is maybe twenty-seven years in the works! Holy. But for good reasons-grandchildren . . .They are all in school now.

MY ART

This is a story written by me, myself and I. I have written other stories but this is the one I chose to edit first.

Hilarious though this cover is not the first. Also my name is Constance Iola Taylor henceforth Iola Taylor C’S. Even then. I started to use my married name only to find Five other writers carry the same name-Constance Ferguson. Wow who knew?

This picture is what I put together first with careful thought. But things got botched so this was trashed.

MY ART

This is just funny to me, like being naked. Funny though how some people found this picture creepy? I don’t get the creepy part.

MY ART.

Anyway…I will be so happy when my story is finished. As of yet this day April 25, 2025 the word count holds 71,744 words.

Yes, I’m going for a novel. 80,000 words or more.

Oh yes, what is the story?

Espionage-Everybody wants to rule the world.

Do you like one of these covers?

ME.

THAT’S A GOOD FRIEND

What are the most important things needed to live a good life?

Me: What kind of a friend helps a friend stay doped up?

Him: Hey man. That’s a good friend man. It’s important to have a good friend to help you through life man. And dope man, it’s important to have good dope man.

Lmao. This is not serious man.

MY TOES ARE IN THE WATER

Tiny Crab
Canoeing not me.

My toes were in the water when I spied this tiny crab. Lol believe it or not…my mind sank down to my toes getting pinched! Of course I giggled these tiny crabs couldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, they were afraid of me.

While I was playing in the water the others were canoeing, not me…freaking rocking back and forth? No way was I staying. I got out. My fear of sharks happens to be grater than me. Oh bother.

The thought of swimming across to the island seemed quite appealing, but how would I get back?

DAYS GONE BY

What historical event fascinates you the most?

Quite the question when so much has happened, what historical event fascinates you the most-there’s so much back there that has fascinated me, I don’t have a most.

To step back in time for several hours per century without dying in the process would be out of this world right? It would be groovy man. But at the same time during any of these Centuries, at what point in time do I stop. After all, a hundred years has many changes happening almost every ten years.

What is year one? Cavemen poking each other, carving out images on rock walls, grunting, inventing fire? I would really like to walk among the neanderthal just for a few hours. I love rocks. I love the forest, and sometimes I don’t feel like talking just poking and grunting.. I imagine the scenery was probably beautiful and fascinating to walk among with land mountains untouched.

Then the Mayans and Egyptians wow I wonder only because there were no trees with the Egyptians. It’s just all hot sand and the Nile river. It would be cool to see how they made pyramids, where they came up with massive stone. Whereas the Mayan were underground-was it cold, they were a smart people, they came up with a Calendar, and the Egyptians read the stars. It would be fascinating to spend time with each of these people without being murdered for any reason which would please their GODS.

The days of the Vikings and pirates living on the waters all the glories about the lands they got to see, that’s all fascinating, but I wouldn’t want to be there. I have this phobia about sharks. So as fascinating as I find the Vikings and pirates out on ships?, sharks!

Oh my gosh… Indians, and Cowboys! Geronimo, Pecos bill, to live in teepees, log cabins, to shoot arrows to ride bucking horses, learn how to make wigwam’s sing, like Pocahontas, ride with Doc holiday and the gang, robbing trains…an hour in each of their shoes as long as I wouldn’t get skinned alive or hung from the highest tree, it would be freaking awesome to dance around a fire and or brawl in a bar because they didn’t like my sing while laying on the piano. As for the clothes? Wow, the buck-skin the natives wore with their headdresses and beads so beautiful, and the dresses and funny feathered hats the women wore, with their tiny umbrellas as they walked through dirt down muddy roads, being covered with wet muck as the horses went galloping past. Yeah I would love to stay an hour each.

Then, what about hanging out with pretty boy Floyd or Bonnie and Clyde or Mad dog whoever he is, Casa Blanca, and all them bootleggers? I wouldn’t mind being there learning how to bootleg, well make it anyways. All the gagsters with their Gatling guns, gunning down whom ever they wanted, in black suits with black hats-say what are you playing at?

To be on the titanic what a fascinating boat they made that out to be, but I don’t want to drowned…oh, they built a ship titanic to sail the ocean blue and they thought they had a ship that the water couldn’t go through but the good Lord raised his hand said the ship will never land was sad when the great ship went down.. nope, no thanks, even though it was a fascinating time. Makes me actually think of Tom Sawyer and Mark Twain fascinating era in deed. But if I did spend time there, I would help Tom white-wash the fence, lol then go play. Rather get into trouble..

No wars for me ever, no slavery, no religion no breaking nations apart. None of that fascinates me interests me moves me, none of that. I don’t want to be among the pilgrims with the plague with killing off natives to steal their land. Nothing fascinating about that era. None of that should be in history or have happened but it has and I am not interested in ever visiting any of that ever unless of course…I could change it all. Bahahaha.

And cool Daddio Beatniks, snapping their fingers in stead of clapping, talking their talk with their poems, in beats and rhythm. A funny bunch these people were. I only got to witness this stuff on TV television programs-Beatniks’ we’re out there, way out there. Then you had hippies. I wouldn’t mind being a beatnik for an hour long as I didn’t get hurt or being a hippie for a while as long as I didn’t do drugs and die or get beat up by people who didn’t like hippies, or get caught up with Charles Manson and his followers.

Yeah, history is fascinating. History is a wonder…just seems that it’s all a creation from somebody seeing pictures on the wall for the early part of it, which of course causes one to question wanting to go see for themselves. It’s all amazing with glories and fascinating stories, I wouldn’t know where to go first with all these days gone by, same as what fascinates me the most?

The End.

History. It’s all a systematic study and documentation of the human past anyway so…Imagine if we were never told about all this past history, what then would be fascinating? 🤷‍♀️

MEET SIBLING #SEVEN

Describe a family member.

Welcome to my view of sibling number Seven. A girl-should have been a boy, maybe. She forever acted like a boy and still does.

You know we all grew up tomboys in dresses, our father said, “no girls of his are going to wear pants!” And we didn’t, just the two boys, the last three of the bunch was a boy-girl-boy. So seven dresses and two sets of pants. of course the older we got, us girls finally got to wear pants-we had to beg dad after the two older one bought jeans. Please daddy please, please, please. “Only on weekends.” But until then-dresses and or tunic’s, school uniforms were worn.

We still did our sports, running and what ever else in dresses. And to meet number seven…man she was always rolling around on the ground beating up boys. Not the brothers, other boys. Wasn’t to many days I’d turn around looking for #7 and there she was…About ten to fifteen feet behind us pounding some boy kid. Oh bother. “Number seven, hurry up, you are going to be late for school.”

Number seven was bold and at times quite embarrassing as she would walk right up behind people on the streets mimicking their walk as she showed off to us. The one time while she was not paying attention-for watching us. The man stopped at the end of the street to watch for cars then proceed, while #7 bounced right off him. It was funny to us but not to him.

One thing about number seven was she was always asking for our food, breakfast, lunch and suppers. Man she drove us crazy begging non stop until we gave it or some. Even mom, #7 would ask and ask for mom’s food until she got it. Brave girl she was and still is. She will punch the crap out of you with out a blink of an eye…other than that, she would be your best friend, until you backstab her.

She was always coming home with new songs or jokes that she would tell me or teach me, some songs were awesome and some jokes were dirty. But she knew how to tell them and still does.

Number seven is the boss of every thing… or tries her best to be while always changing all the rules, and oh my gosh…she doesn’t quit. Kind of takes the fun out of everything, her way or no way.

As an adult nothing changed outside of having children, she is still quick tempered with her rules and willing to floor you on the drop of a dime.

I love her to pieces we did have fun at times. Her jokes are shockingly funny after you see them in your mind, until then I would gasp, “aw…#7.” Days later though…slam! Her joke hit my brain sending me into uncontrollable laughter. It did not matter where I was at the time when her joke came to light I whacked out while people watched me pointing or whispering. Only made me laugh more out of embarrassment. Yeah she asked me,why did the chicken cross the road?-“To get to the other side.” Yeah okay, now why did the man cross the road? “I don’t know. To get to the other side.” She said, no stupid, his dick was stuck in the chicken. “Aw…#7!” Shit…days later sitting at a stop light watching this guy cross the road, I caught myself looking to see if there was indeed a chicken, then all hell broke loose, I laughed like a bastids.

She also said to me, what would you do if your best friend all of a sudden started convoluting in the bathtub, having a seizure? What would you do? “What I don’t know call 911.” She said, no stupid…throw in a load of laundry. 😳 “aw, # 7!” I did not find that funny at all. But days later…🤣🤣🤣, I saw it. I asked for the LORDS forgiveness.

Then she said to me…what would you do if you saw your husband still staggering in the backyard? Sack I don’t know. “Leave him there, help him in?” She said, no stupid, RELOAD. “What? She made the actions and sound of a rifle reloading. I laughed like a freaking dog. “Number seven, number seven, number seven.”

Don’t get me wrong, she will give you the shirt off her back and cook you a great meal, but if you cross her-look out!

Number seven was loads of fun for a time, as kids she never missed one of my Basketball games unless I had to play out of our district. She was a hand full yes, but fun. The only way to control her as a child was to sit on her until she came back to her senses.

There is more but you know. That’s not for me to say. Wait her…knock knock “who’s there.” F U. Or, or knock knock. “Who’s there, who’s there? Okay #7 who’s there?” Her, what are you F-ing stupid? No one is home. 🤨 yeah she swears like a bastid.

I haven’t seen number seven for quite a while now, but…I can’t ever forget her either .

The End.

Oh wait a minute…knock knock…

Get the F out of here. Bahahaha “aw, number seven.”

Oh yeah, she ran away once, and found sleeping under a porch with the rats , so we were told. Oh and she is the one with the dart…wood eye? And she is the one who taught me how to get money from a newspaper box stand. Oh and she is the one who told the baby to throw his poopy diaper at the oldest sister while she was sleeping? Poohy face. Lol. Oh it was not funny. Well? And she is the one handing me a small pickle and saying, can you see Doug? “Yes.” Throw this pickle at him. I missed hitting anyone else and we ducked under the table laughing like barking Seals. She’s the one who says. Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it. “Okay shit!”

Meet number seven.

BULLSEYE

What skill would you like to learn?

This will be short.

At times, I have a pretty good aim, at other times it will take me three tries to hit my target.

Every once in a while I will buy a $4.00 toy gun with darts. Lucky me the darts come in three, allowing me to mess around using a chalk drawn bullseye, getting my practice in before the kids confiscate my toy.

But I really wish growing up that I took the time to learn the skill of archery, had I known lessons were given.

However, I did play Darts. Lucky if I hit the board. One time this guy sitting in a wheelchair having a game of darts with my sister and me, took the dart and drove it in his leg as he said to us, “would you do this?” Holy sack, we had no idea he had a wooden leg.

My sister holding her dart readying to aim smiled looking at me then him saying, “wood eye?” Oh my God I laughed my ass off I could hardly stand up. The guy just stared at her, then looked at me, which of course made me laugh more, as I’m imagining my sister putting out his eye.

Archery would have been a great skill for me. I buy the plastic sets of Bow and arrows and we play and have fun.

What was that? BULLSEYE 🎯

GRANDMA RUN WITH ME

How often do you walk or run?

Walking and running eh…I walk around the house all day cleaning. Then on no school days we walk to the big store, about eight blocks, then walk around the store, cash out and depending on what we bought…we walk or taxi it.

Hmmm who are we? My grandchildren mainly the 8-year old. He is the one who every day asks, “gramma can we walk somewhere?” Well we do or we don’t-depending on how long I was standing on my feet.

But when we go out to play…You will here one of them call, “gramma run with me.” Lol. He will take my hand and run holding mine, where I do my best as I giggle.” It’s a 16 second blast as fast as I can go, which is not fast at all, I have this fear now, a phobia of falling down<>>>gosh darn it lol. My running days are almost gone 🤨 but I love walking.

The End.

WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE THE GOD DAMED QUEEN

Do you see yourself as a leader?

YES! As the matter of fact. I Do. Maybe in a past life I was.

One time when I was 15 we owned a small Convenience Store in a small village, and in this store alongside canned foods’ / dry goods/ cigarettes, we cooked fast food.

That at the time I was 15- years of age it was my turn to be the server. This did not bother me at all I rather liked it, and this particular day a truck driver stopped in and ordered a Hamburger. Sure no problem sir.

Turned out there was a HUGE problem…

The building happened to be a little over one hundred years old /feed mill/ living quarters upstairs…you get the picture, old place, in the front of this building is the store area with an old door closing the store from the living area/ kitchen/ living room/ staircase to the bedrooms. And I had to get to the kitchen by way of said door.

Now not only was this door barely hanging on its hinges, the place was damp and the FREAKING doorknob was on the verge of breaking off?

Long story short…yes sir, one hamburger coming up, turning to open the door nothing happened, so I turned the knob pulling again, stuck, and crap. My third attempt pulling harder only made a scary noise causing me to let go before I pulled the handle right off-I knocked on the door loudly.

To my surprise my younger sibling opened the door-this caused her to stop washing dishes.

My father was sitting at the table holding a fork of food reading to place it in his mouth-but Sat frozen staring at me.

My mother stood in some sort of locked position holding a dish in one hand and the cloth in the other? It was like the door opened into a TWILIGHT Zone-everyone frozen in some sort of trance lasting for about three or four seconds, then all hell broke loose…my mother roared into the dead quite at me (still standing on my side) safe…with a witness-the man. Bahahaha lucky me. She yelled so loudly I flinch.

She said. “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE THE GOD DAMED QUEEN?

👀

I thought before answering…no, I tried three times to open the door, it wouldn’t open, so I knocked before pulling the handle off, and this man wants a hamburger, (man saved me from being hit) Bahahaha.

True Story and very often to this day, almost 68 now, I think YES! I could be Queen, I would make a GREAT LEADER-honest & true to my country & its people. 👸 😃 😉

The End.

WHICH FOOD,WHEN YOU EAT IT, TRANSPORTS YOU TO CHILDHOOD

FOOD AND CHILDHOOD YUM

I must say each and every time I eat- HABITANT FRENCH PEA SOUP it does bring me back to my childhood, where myself & eight siblings sat around the kitchen table ready for lunch or supper.

Well I hated pea soup! I could not stand the smell of it-it smelled like vomit to me. So each and every time mother left the kitchen, I would then ask, “who wants my soup for their bread. I’ll trade my soup for your two pieces of bread.”

Lucky me, my one sister LOVED this soup and always made the trade. 😁 now that I am way older I LOVE Habitant French Pea soup and it smells like peas. 😬

My childhood days.