All I Have To Give

I apologize, but this is all I have to give…



Trying to do a little writing:

How I feel about starting another week:

Men who drive fancy sports cars:
your man

Ten minutes into watching the live stage version of The Sound of Music:

When I see certain status updates on Facebook:

How I greet my morning coffee:

When the Dallas Cowboys are actually winning:

That is, until they get to the 4th quarter and give up:

 When I hear someone say they don’t like guacamole:

When people insist upon creating drama because they have nothing better to do:

And then, I’m like:

Trying to Find the Funny

I’ve been absent from this site for a little while, but I finally decided to renew my domain name here for one more year. Let’s see if I can find the funny again. In the meantime, enjoy some .gif’s until I get back on my feet.

When I try to swallow my vitamins:

When people only talk about themselves:


My response to some Facebook statuses I see:
La Dee Fricken Da

When you ask a cashier how they are doing and they actually start telling you:


When I was asked to give a 30-minute speech at a Rotary Club meeting with 60-65 people about my other site, American Small Towns:

I mean, big deal, right?

But then I thought about it:

And then I thought, “Okay, I can do this shit.”

So I am…on December 13th:

Anyway, I hope everyone has a Happy Thanksgiving!



I haven’t done these in ages. So, let’s not waste any time, huh? Here’s some TGIF GIFs for you!

Trying to write my next article:


After I update Adobe Acrobat and the next day, I get an alert to run another update:


When I finally get a response from my editor after I sent my questions three weeks ago:


When I have a bunch of tabs open and all of a sudden, I hear audio playing:


When people are posting about Christmas on Facebook. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet:


After editing for several hours:


When I can’t sleep:


Trying to write my next article, but I can’t think of anything:


How I would fix Obamacare:


Have a great weekend everyone!!



Community Disservice


Note: When I asked Joy from Comfytown Chronicles to do a guest post, I actually begged. Pitiful, I know, but it’s not beneath me. We recently became friends on Facebook and she never fails to make me giggle-snort. Do yourself a favor, follow her blog (linked below) and on Facebook here –> Comfytown Chronicles.


While walking, I came across this box in front of a house in the next neighborhood over. I have seen this box before and passed it without more than a glance thinking it was for newspaper delivery. After seeing a picture of an old phone booth turned into a little sharing library on Facebook, I took a closer look at this box and whattayaknow? It IS a “Little Free Library.” Just one neighborhood over from where I live! (It’s a whole thing, for more info check out

Community Disservice

This is an amazing concept! People have set up little libraries to share books with their community. If this doesn’t make you feel all warm and fuzzy, either you have lived a very different life than I have, or you’re dead inside. I have lived among people who not only don’t share, but will steal your clothes right out of the “community” washing machine if you leave them unattended.

I wondered if this could work in my current nice, but unfriendly neighborhood of shut-ins. Maybe they just need a reason to come together? Or at least come OUTSIDE. One place where they can share things they have no need for in exchange for things they could really use.

I really wanted to try this, except I don’t have many books here in ComfyTown. To me books are like umbrellas, or as land is to hippies, you don’t OWN them. You just borrow them from the universe, use them to gain the knowledge, and pass them on to the next person. I get books from the actual town library, but I don’t have enough trust in humanity to put those library books in neighborhood box, so maybe not books

I had too much sleep or coffee or optimism, and thought I could start some sort of community sharing situation. Perhaps it just takes one person to get it started.

There are SOME kind people nearby. Here is a house, closer to the next neighborhood actually, but still walking distance, that puts out their garden wares on an honor system. 

Tomatoes community disservice

You leave what money you like in that can and take what you need. This gives me a great sense of hope and happiness. This probably wouldn’t be a great idea for me, I don’t have a lot of room to grow things, and the few things I do grow don’t do well in our clay crappy excuse for dirt.

Here is another fine example of a neighbor being neighborly. Some person was nice enough to leave their beverage on this FOR SALE sign, for any thirsty passersby to partake. That’s nice. It’s important to stay hydrated. 

For Sale Sign with Cup community disservice

Thanks, neighbor! I don’t want this for my community sharing project, though. My kids will just take anything I put in there and drink it. 

So I look around ComfyTown to see, what do I have a lot of that I could share? We always have plenty of weeds, no one wants those. Hmmm . . .

We have a metric shit-ton of dead batteries, but the only reason I can think for people to use batteries is to make meth, which I saw on a documentary. Do I want to start a community share group with people who make meth? I’m going to just say NO. I like having teeth.

Hmmm, what else can I offer people to build community spirit?

We have a crap ton of Christmas decorations! My old man was a famous dumpster diver. He gave us more tacky Christmas crap than my husband will allow to be put out at one time, so mayhaps I can share my bounty. I tried that. 

Free Christmas community disservice

After 2 days, all I got was a lecture from a grumpy neighbor about the holidays starting earlier and earlier every year. Fail.

Hmmm, what else? We have a motherload of cups from Bob Chinn’s restaurants. They make Mai Tais there that my husband is obsessed with. When we have purchased a batch to go, they give you a bunch of cups. We have done that a few times over the years, and now we could build a play house out of cups, if only we knew how. We don’t. Sounds like a good idea for our Community Sharebox!

Give a Cup community disservice

These sat outside in my front lawn for a few days, they blew around a little, I put them back. One morning I checked and was so surprised.

Give a Cup with Trash community disservice

Not. The cups were still there, plus trash. The sign doesn’t say “Take a cup or leave your CRAP.” Back to the drawing board.

I have heard of food co-ops. Everyone has to eat, right?

I gave it a shot. 

Chicken community disservice

This didn’t go over really well either, for some crazy reason. It only managed to draw a ton of flies, and my know-it-all neighbor who is a teacher, screaming something about salmonella. I told him I didn’t have salmon, but he could LEAVE a salmon and take a chicken. He just went back inside. Jerk.

(I’ve since had a chat with my smartest friend, Google, and it turns out raw chicken is something you don’t want to leave out. “My bad.”)

I was about ready to scrap the whole project when it hit me like a ton of laundry, we have tons of odd socks. I know, but other people do, too right? What if we could match our socks together somehow? If not, I have seen crafty people use socks to make games, socktopus costumes, sock wreaths, sock monkeys and snakes and things like that. And who knows? Maybe people have similar odd socks they can match up. So, I tried it.

Socks community disservice

This one actually had a response! Well, either that or that urban legend about laundry reproducing when you’re not looking is true. This was there the next morning.

More Socks community disservice

MORE SOCKS! And an empty soda bottle. Whatever. At least it seems like someone stopped by! I recycled the soda bottle (you’re welcome, Earth) and got a bigger box for the socks, looking forward to building up our community spirit!

Socks No Trash Sign community disservice

That should do it!

The next day there were more socks, and guess what else? 

Socks with Pizza Box community disservice


Nevermind. I don’t want to interact with these people anyway. 


Comfytown ChroniclesJoy at Comfytown Chronicles is breaking the role of Mom-ish. Weird kids, day drinking, cussing, binge eating, and other things she won’t go to meetings for. She’s bringing COMFY back! She says that her spirit animal is an over-caffeinated sloth and she doesn’t suffer from having a split personality, but instead, enjoys it. She’s mostly a foul-mouthed, immature hooligan, and sometimes a sweet mother to three kiddos, just doing her best. 


Fork In the Road


I’m back! This may or may not be a good thing.

First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who submitted guest posts during the month of October. Y’all are awesome! In doing so we accomplished two things: 1) Y’all got to showcase your work; and, 2) I didn’t have to. 

I’d say that’s a win/win.

In other news, I’ve been hem-hawing about one thing that affects the life of this site and I find myself at a fork in the road. 

fork in the road

As some of y’all know, I’ve started a new travel blog called, American Small Towns. Initially, I didn’t know how it would perform, but as a result of recent events, it’s now become my new baby.

1) American Small Towns was born at the end of July 2013.
2) This site here, Funny Life Stories, was born in August of 2012. 

Quite an age difference there. But here’s the thing: my travel site has easily out-ranked my humor blog in the few short months since it took its first breath of life. It has blown this site out of the water and as a result, I’ve now begun collaborating with a local magazine. Now that I have my foot in the publishing door, I can only see this as becoming larger than it is already. Or at least, I hope it does, but with hard work and determination, anything is possible. Don’t worry, it won’t change me as a person. I’d be willing to help anyone wanting to do the same thing. 

Please head over to my travel site an subscribe! I would appreciate it! 

Click Here!

Just input your email address on the bottom bar.

Another factor involves my domain name It expires on November 25th and I’m about –>thisclose<– to letting it lapse. There are a few things giving me more check marks in the “Let it Lapse,” column:

  • Humor used to come so easily to me, but as some of you know, I’ve struggled off and on for some time now. I’ve openly admitted it and you’ve not judged me for it. Thank you. It’s rather kind of ya’ll, but lately (in reference to my sense of humor) it’s like I have a proctologist peering up my ass with one of those forehead lamps saying, “I know it’s up there somewhere.” Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s not. Maybe I just need an ass surgeon to sort through all the shit (pun intended), but I’d rather not have someone poking around in my ass, thankyouverymuch. 
  • The time and effort involved in writing for this site is next to nothing. It takes about 30-60 minutes to think of a topic and write an original post here, but most of that time is spent setting up SEO shit, which is probably why most bloggers need to see a proctologist in the first place. To say that it causes constipation is an understatement and in the current world we live in, the ability to expel shit would be a bonus. Let’s not even mention the fact that I have to push all of my posts out on social media. Tack on an additional hour just for that. This is precious time that could be spent traveling or writing or improving my other site.
  • Since I’ve started blogging about travel, I’ve noticed that the travel communities are a breath of fresh air. I’ve never seen such a supportive group of people. They don’t begrudge helping out other writers and don’t subscribe to the, “scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours,” mentality, even though I return the scratches. I wish I could say the same about humor bloggers, but to be honest, they can be a vicious bunch, who won’t think twice about stabbing another writer in the back just so they can reach the top and the ones who don’t stab you in the back, buy their way to the Google Top-Ten. Then–then!–when they get to where they want to be, they discard everyone else, like you aren’t good enough to be around them. I’m not talking about ALL humor bloggers, because there have been some that are really genuine and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. If, however, you immediately became defensive because I made that statement, then apparently both shoes fit. If that’s the case then I suggest you lace those bitches up tightly and go for a jog.

Note: You can address your hate mail directly to me, but be forewarned, I really don’t care. For those of you about to unsubscribe from this site, I just want you to know that I’m being honest. I’ve experienced this type of behavior and if you haven’t, then relish in the light of your good fortune. 

Moving on…

There’s 20% of me that hates getting rid of this site. I started it for a reason and while those reasons can be dredged up again, it’ll be a tough road. Theoretically, I could renew my domain name for one more year and see where I stand when the time comes, but what happens if after a month or two, I’m right back at the fork in the road or unable to post as often as I need to? As you all know, you need to post almost daily (or at the very least 2-3 times per week) to stay on top of the heap and make a name for yourself, especially when you can’t afford other means to do so. If you can’t write consistently, you might as well purchase a tombstone for your site. That’s what I’m afraid of — that I won’t be able to write as often as I will need to in order to stay afloat. 

So, what to do, what to do . . .

I have until the 25th to decide, but I’m curious: if you were in this situation, what would you do?



That Night on Riddle Road

Note: I’m excited to have Cheryl here today. I’ve read her blog since she introduced her crazy self to me in one of our blog groups. She makes me reflect on life and gives me plenty of reasons to laugh out loud. She’s awesome and I’m so glad she’s here. You can read more about her at the end of her guest post and please go take a look at her blog. I do hope that she comes back often! 


This is a true story.

In June of 1972, I was dating a boy with a license, and a car.

I’ll let the shock wear off…

This was very important. Paramount to my very survival, in fact.

Without my own means to get the hell out of the house (I was fifteen), boyfriends were cultivated based on the following rules:

1) ability to spend money on me;
2) agreement that I was always right; and,
3) transportation. 

Don’t roll your eyes. So were yours.

This particular night was a Wednesday. I remember this because I was in Driver’s Ed class and Wednesday classes were at night (learning to drive after dark).

My date, Pat, was waiting in my parent’s driveway as we pulled up and I exited the Vega in a cloud of cigarette smoke mingled with other substances (Our ‘teacher’ was a Woodstock burn-out). 

It was 8:30pm and dusk.

Pat and I were supposed to go to a movie, but it was too late to make the 9pm show, so we decided to go downtown and cruise the ‘Strip’ (and by ‘Strip’ I mean the 100 foot stretch of asphalt in front of Baskin Robbins. It was a small town).

After having done the obligatory four-pass ‘I can’t see you‘ head-tilt to the side, while rolling by with my arms around my guy with-a-CAR move, we decided the social part of our night was sufficiently accomplished and went parking.

p-a-r-k-i-n-g oooooooooohhhhhh.  

Our town was situated on the cusp between suburbia and “the country,” which provided several excellent locations for getting nasty. All with straw poking up your nether regions.

One in particular was a favorite with me: a deserted dirt, dead-end road, close to home, which followed the fenced curve of a cow pasture bordered by wild flowers and the sound of high grass crickets. 

It was called Riddle Road (I’m not kidding).

So there we were… smoochsmoochsmooch… zipzipzip… smoochsmoochsmooch.

The windows were down.

The cool night air was wafting through the interior, moving my expertly hot-curled tendrils in a most seductive way.

The radio was playing softly, accompanying the manly groans of “Why not?” and “Just this once,” when all of a sudden our vehicle was swept by the bright light of a police cruiser.


We unstuck our bodies and looked ahead, expecting to see our jailor. 


The car was hit by another bright light from behind.

What The Hell?

Our necks twisted to the back.

Nada. Zip.

The light scanned the field to our left, all of twelve feet away.

I leaned across Pat’s lap as he hung his head out of the driver’s side window, and looked up.

And there, hovering above the old 30-foot high telephone lines, nestled on the edge of the road, was a narrow (maybe 25 foot long), smooth and round object with no sharp seams. It was a non-reflective, dark metallic object with three colored moving lights (white/blue/orange). No doors. No windows. No engine. No blades. 

ufo riddle road

It was just floating there, not moving.

The white light swung and lit us up.


Ducking back into the car goes without saying.

“Did you see that?”


We peeked our heads back out. 


No sound. No moving air.


There was a moment of physical immobility except for our ragged breathing and thumping in our chests.  

Then reality hit us like a lead pipe (being frightened to death has a way of doing that) as we rolled up the windows, looked to see if anyone–anythingwas approaching the car, and got the hell out of Dodge.

Crying all the way, I had Pat not only drive me immediately home, but walk me to the door, and wait until my parents opened it, at which point I wished him well and dropped into my mother’s arms. 

She woke my father and I told them about EVERYTHING– including that I had been parking with the eighteen year old boy they didn’t like. 

My mother, ever the pragmatist, assured me it must have been my imagination.

My father (who never met a good story he didn’t like), called the police.

And then the Sheriff’s office.

And then the nearby Ohio Army National Guard military base in Ravenna.


“Go back to bed Mr. Smith. Your daughter’s been drinking.”

I hadn’t. And neither had Pat. 

**Fast Forward**

I slept with the lights on for months.

I never set foot on Riddle Road again in the dark.

I never told anyone other then my family, and they didn’t tell anyone (I was crazy- right?)

Pat and I broke up (I moved on to a football player who agreed to my three rules).

And I began to forget, or at least, got foggy about the events.

Until, I saw Pat again, fifteen years later, and found a moment out of the ear shot of others.

“Pat. I need to ask you a question.”


“Do you remember that night on Riddle Road?”


“Did we see what I think we saw?”

“I don’t know what we saw.”

“But we did see something, right? I’m not crazy?”

“No. You’re not crazy, but I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Yea. Okay.”

Except for today… 

Today, I’m telling the world.


Cheryl Nicholl lives in the spooky town of New Orleans, where she eats her way through restaurants, enjoys gardening at midnight, and driving her hubby crazy. She is living midlife to the fullest and you can follow her at A Pleasant House

Ghost Walking in Edinburgh

Ghost Walking in EdinburghLast July my husband and I were on our honeymoon in the UK, and because I love all things macabre we went on a few ghost walks. Our favourite was definitely the Witches and Cadies Tour in Edinburgh. ( It was run by Adam Lyal (Deceased) and his err, trusty, “Jumper Oo-ter.” Our tour began just before sunset and finished up in the dark, making the city of Edinburgh seem extra eerie. 

Adam led us through the darkened streets of Edinburgh telling us about some of the city’s gristly tales of murder and mayhem, while his “Jumper Oo-ter” tried his best scare us and then run ahead to the next hiding spot. 

Since he was the only Jumper Oo-ter on the tour he constantly had to try and run ahead of us to get set for the next opportunity to jump out at us. This created more than a few comical moments as he tried to slink along buildings on the other side of the street from us as though we couldn’t see him and his rather large stuffed belly. 

Despite being able to see him at times travelling to his next hiding spot, he certainly managed to scare quite a few members of our group repeatedly when everyone was least expecting it. Maybe that was his plan all along….? 

Some of the ghosts that get talked about during Murder and Mystery tour include Adam Lyal, Agnes Fynnie, William Burke and William Hare, and the Mad Monk of Cowgate. 


My favourite story, partly because of my academic interests, was that of Agnes Fynnie. She was a fishmongers wife who was known for cursing and bad mouthing the locals when they refused to buy her wares. 

Ghost Walking in EdinburghShe was so disliked by the town’s people that she was accused of witchcraft, and is reported to have received the most accusations in Scottish History! 

She was strangled and burned in 1641, and legend has it that she still torments passer-bys in the market area of the old town. 

As part of our tour we also received a copy of Adam Lyal’s Witchery Tales: The Darker Side of Old Edinburgh. ( The book is fairly short containing only 5 Chapters, but it provides an interesting read blending history with humour, and facts with fables. It takes a look at Edinburgh’s darker side including tales of witchcraft, plague, body-snatching and torture. 


So if you find yourself in Edinburgh this Halloween, and you’re looking for a good scare (or at least a good laugh!) check out the Witches and Cadies Tours and you won’t be disappointed. Oooohhhhh Scary!

Ghost Walking in Edinburgh


Sarah Layman can be found blogging over at where she focuses mostly on family life, health, and all things baby! She’s the proud mum of one baby and one fur baby, and likes to daydream about the glory of past vacations to help get through long afternoons of baby babbling. 

The Cloaked Figure

When I was a little girl (maybe about 6 years old), I used to regularly go to Birmingham with my mom and sister on the Bus. We would walk down the back of a park down the hill to the bottom of Clancey’s and carry on up to Halesowen where we would then catch the bus. That’s actually a long way to walk for a 6 year old lol! But anyhow, on this particular occasion it was just my mother and I going to Birmingham.

We were walking down the hill, and I noticed this fully-cloaked figure in front of us walking and holding a stick. The figure was really tall, because I remember thinking to myself, my God is that person tall! A lot taller than an adult was (remember I am 6 years old, lol), maybe 7ft or more. Anyway, the figure was holding a stick, and had a cloak on which was full-length to the floor, and it also had a big floppy hood on it, so from the back I couldn’t see the figure’s head, nor tell if it was a male or female.

I didn’t think much of the figure for a bit, was just walking and chatting with my mom. At the bottom of the hill there was an old gateway, with two black doors on either side.

gate cloaked figure

The gate was no longer there, and you could walk through it. I watched, with my own eyes, this cloaked figure just walk through one of these doors – didn’t try and open the door, just walked straight THROUGH it!

I was so shocked and bewildered, I said to my mom straight away, “where did that man go, mom?”

Although I didn’t know what the gender was of the figure, as I child, I just presumed it was a man. My mom said to be in a surprised way “What do you mean, what man?” to which I replied “that man that was walking infront of us, he just walked through that door!!” My mom really didn;t know what I was talking about, and told me to stop being silly. I was holding my moms hand walking, but I then let go and ran to the other side of the door to see where the figure was to show my mom, but I couldn’t see any figure.

No figure, no cloak, no stick – just a door, and a surprised mother who told me to hold her hand once again, and that there was nothing and no one walking in front of us.

But I saw this, and I always remember it, as it was very strange to me that my mom didn’t see it but I did.


Louise Oats is a beauty blogger from the Midlands UK, mama and lover of all things natural. She is the writer of Kinder Health and Beauty Blog

The Loving Embrace of a Cold Spot

Note: I’m a huge fan of Stacia and her blog, Dried-On Milk. Every single time I read her blog, she makes me do that embarrassing giggle-snort that scares my dogs. This year, she entered Blogger Idol and was selected as one of the Top 13 blogs out of many, many entries (close to 300, I think). Since then, she has made it to the top 8, so to say I’m excited about her being here today is an understatement. You can read more about her at the end of this post, and please visit her blog! You won’t regret it one bit, I promise. And, yes, you’ll giggle-snort too.

By the way, I entered the contest too, but didn’t make it. Whatever, I’m not bitter (read: very bitter!). Shut up. 


I am a HUGE sucker for the supernatural. I’ve been reading spooky books from a young age. I can read all kinds of scary ghost stories but only until recently have I been able to watch scary movies. Nerd. I know. I love all the ghost shows on TV. Especially now that Halloween is right around the corner. Bring. It. On!

I’m a believer! Last year I put on my big girl panties and went on a ghost tour. It was cool but I didn’t see any ghosts. I did get lots of pictures with orbs though. I would kill to go to Charleston, SC or New Orleans… oooooh spooky!! I’m certain that if anything really supernatural did happen to me that I would freak the fuck out. I love to watch it happen to others, but if it happened to me… oh hell to the no!

I’ve had some minor things happen in my lifetime that most people would quickly write off as nothing or have another explanation. Like those moments when the cat is staring at the corner of the room for no damn reason. For me though, it was real and I like to believe that there’s more to this world than what we see with our eyes.

Ten years ago, J’s dad passed. It was not good. Cancer is a bitch on wheels and took him way too early in his life. There were months of hospitalization and lots of overnights trying to get comfy on a tiny hospital chair. In fact, that’s where I slept on our wedding night. The day before, J and I were married in his dad’s hospital room with our family and two close friends. It was bittersweet. We just wanted his dad to be a witness. Late that night we got a call that he was not doing well. He managed to hang on for another few weeks. 

It was awful. He was way too young. J was too young to lose his dad and it took a major toll on him. He told me that he had lots of dreams where his dad was still alive and everything was normal. Then he’d wake up and be heartbroken all over again. It was a rough time.

There was one day in particular that J was having a bad day. I started to walk down the hallway of our house and suddenly walked into a cold spot. I thought, “That’s weird.” I’d step out of it and back in. Sure enough, it was a cold spot. It was unusual because it was never cold right there in that location.

I called to J to come feel what I had felt. He walked into the spot that I was pointing at and he said, “this is really strange.” I said, “What’s even weirder is that when I walk into that spot, it’s cold, but peaceful.” J said, “I was just thinking the same thing.” He said it made him feel comforted.

We just looked at each other and just knew that it was his dad. I believe he was trying to comfort his son that day. Maybe it’s all just a bunch of bull. I’m not really a religious person but I have to believe there’s something more to this life than this human form. I guess you would say I’m spiritual. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with finding comfort in knowing that our loved ones never truly leave us when they die.


Dried-On Milk

Stacia, self-awarded mother-of-the-year, a Target-aholic, and regularly writes on her blog Dried-on Milk.
She is a graphic designer, mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister and is one crazy-ass chick who likes to find
humor in the most mundane things in life. 
Stacia is also a 2013 Blogger Idol Top 10 finalist.