It never occurred to me to designate a theme song for my blog until Junk Chuck (whoever he) dropped by my “About Rochelle” page and left this video. Nothing more to add. Enjoy!
😉 Shalom,
Rochelle
P.S. Click here to meet Chuck. You won’t be sorry.
Humor
All posts in the Humor category
4 July 2014
Published July 2, 2014 by rochellewisoff
What does the photo prompt below say to you? Tell me in a hundred words. 😉
PHOTO PROMPT, Copyright – Claire Fuller
Genre: Realistic Fiction
World Count: 99
WHAT’S ON THE MENU?
“There’s so much I haven’t seen, Mom.”
“It’ll keep. You’re only eighteen.”
“I’m a woman.”
“You’re still a child. The city will eat you alive.”
“It’s a full scholarship.”
Three months later, miles from parental scrutiny, Evelyn strolled into the university studio, virgin sketchbook under her arm.
She lowered herself onto an art bench, looked up at the statuesque model on a raised platform, held her pencil erect at arm’s length to calculate perspective and, with great relish, contemplated all that nature had bestowed upon him.
“Study hard,” her mother had said.
Evelyn smiled.
“I will, Mom, I will.”
Toemageddon
Published June 29, 2014 by rochellewisoffLIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE
I’ve often claimed to be my own anecdote. But if I can’t laugh at myself…and so on and so on and Scooby dooby dooby do.
Although I don’t like to share my physical trials and tribulations, sometimes a situation presents itself that’s too ridiculous not to share. For example, some may recall post about my minute clinic excursion for a mouth ulcer last year that led to a trip to the ER for an abnormally low heart rate.
My story begins during the last week of April when I slipped and stubbed my left big toe before going of to work. I thought nothing much of it as I donned my shoe. No bruise, no swelling. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable the rest of the day. Imagine my shock and amazement when I removed my shoe that afternoon.
X-rays showed that I’d fractured it at the top joint.
A month later, another x-ray showed that my poor broken digit hadn’t healed. My sentence was another four weeks in the stylish, open toed “oxford.” Ironically I haven’t had much pain with this one. For this I’ve been thankful.
This brings me to this past Friday morning. As I blissfully stepped out of the tub after a refreshing shower I banged my right toe against the sliding-door track. Sharp pain. But I’ve done that before many times over. Nothing to worry about, right?
Instead of subsiding, the pain grew steadily worse as did the swelling and discoloration. By yesterday morning (Saturday) it had swollen more. My husband insisted on taking me to the local ER.
Before all was said and done I warned the ER nurses about my heart rate which for me is normal. (49 for those curious readers.)
A tech came in and snapped four different x-ray views. I prayed for a diagnosis of simple bruising. Go home put ice on it.
No such luck.
The PA came back and showed me one of the x-rays on her iPhone. A lovely little fracture in the middle of the joint where foot meets toe.
So I look forward to returning to work Tuesday wearing not one, but two, ortho boots.
Sigh. Off to take my pain meds.
L’chaim.
28 February 2014
Published February 26, 2014 by rochellewisoffWELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!
Seize the opportunity to free your muse and allow her take you on a magic carpet ride.
Henry David Thoreau said it best.
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
THE CHALLENGE:
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)
THE KEY:
MAKE. EVERY. WORD. COUNT.
THE RULES:
- Copy your URL to the Linkz collection. You’ll find the tab following the photo prompt. It’s the little white box to the left with the blue froggy guy. Click on it and follow directions. This is the best way to get the most reads and comments.
- MAKE SURE YOUR LINK IS SPECIFIC TO YOUR FLASH.
- While our name implies “fiction only” it’s perfectly Kosher to write a non-fiction piece as long as it meets the challenge of being a complete story in 100 words.
-
- ***PLEASE MAKE NOTE IN YOUR BLOG IF YOU PREFER NOT TO RECEIVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM.***
- REMINDER: This page is “FRIDAY FICTIONEERS CENTRAL” and is NOT the place to promote political or religious views. Also, you are responsible for the content of your story and policing comments on your blog. You have the right to delete any you consider offensive.
**Please exercise DISCRETION when commenting on a story! Be RESPECTFUL.**
Should someone have severe or hostile differences of opinion with another person it’s my hope that the involved parties would settle their disputes in private.
- Like us on Facebook
My story follows the photo and link tool. I enjoy honest comments and welcome constructive criticism. 
- Shalom,
Rochelle
Genre: Literary Fiction
Word Count: 100
C’EST LA VIE
When I was a co-ed I married a professional baseball player.
After a year, a specialist told us we’d never conceive.
Jack refused to adopt. He couldn’t see himself raising “another man’s bastard.”
Within weeks he divorced me and married a fan.
Devastated, I left for France. In Apremont-sur-Allier I found healing in Ranier’s arms.
“All I have to offer is my farm and my love,” he said.
“I can’t give you children,” I said.
“All I want is your heart.”
Today we greeted our fourth son, the spitting image of his father.
Jack? No runs. No hits. No heirs.
21 February 2014
Published February 19, 2014 by rochellewisoffWELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!
Seize the opportunity to free your muse and allow her take you on a magic carpet ride.
Henry David Thoreau said it best.
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
THE CHALLENGE:
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)
THE KEY:
MAKE – EVERY – WORD – COUNT
THE RULES:
- Copy your URL to the Linkz collection. You’ll find the tab following the photo prompt. It’s the little white box to the left with the blue froggy guy. Click on it and follow directions. This is the best way to get the most reads and comments.
- MAKE SURE YOUR LINK IS SPECIFIC TO YOUR FLASH.
- While our name implies “fiction only” it’s perfectly Kosher to write a non-fiction piece as long as it meets the challenge of being a complete story in 100 words.
-
- ***PLEASE MAKE NOTE IN YOUR BLOG IF YOU PREFER NOT TO RECEIVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM.***
- REMINDER: This page is “FRIDAY FICTIONEERS CENTRAL” and is NOT the place to promote political or religious views. Also, you are responsible for the content of your story and policing comments on your blog. You have the right to delete any you consider offensive.
**Please exercise DISCRETION when commenting on a story! Be RESPECTFUL.**
Should someone have severe or hostile differences of opinion with another person it’s my hope that the involved parties would settle their disputes in private.
- Like us on Facebook
- My story follows the photo and link tool. I enjoy honest comments and welcome constructive criticism.
- Shalom,
Rochelle
As of 20 February the consensus is that my Genre is Horror 😉
Word Count: 98
BELLING THE CAT
Undaunted by the prospect of childbirth and motherhood, the epitome of idealistic youth, I cheerfully welcomed the task ahead. I’d show everyone how it’s done. What could possibly go wrong?
After an excruciating and humbling thirty-six hour labor and breech birth, Mara, my 8 pound lioness, roared forth into the world.
From infancy to puberty, she has marked her territory well.
Light glints off my sixteen-year-old’s silver nose-ring and gaudy orange-dyed mane. I cringe like cornered prey when she growls and dangles my car keys from her black-nailed fingers.
“Mo-om, you promised to start my driving lessons today.”
14 February 2014
Published February 12, 2014 by rochellewisoffWELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!
A Happy Valentine’s Day
Henry David Thoreau said it best.
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
THE CHALLENGE:
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)
THE KEY:
Make every word count.
THE RULES:
- Copy your URL to the Linkz collection. You’ll find the tab following the photo prompt. It’s the little white box to the left with the blue froggy guy. Click on it and follow directions. This is the best way to get the most reads and comments.
- MAKE SURE YOUR LINK IS SPECIFIC TO YOUR FLASH.
- While our name implies “fiction only” it’s perfectly Kosher to write a non-fiction piece as long as it meets the challenge of being a complete story in 100 words.
-
- ***PLEASE MAKE NOTE IN YOUR BLOG IF YOU PREFER NOT TO RECEIVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM.***
- REMINDER: This page is “FRIDAY FICTIONEERS CENTRAL” and is NOT the place to promote political or religious views. Also, you are responsible for the content of your story and policing comments on your blog. You have the right to delete any you consider offensive.
**Please exercise DISCRETION when commenting on a story! Be RESPECTFUL.**
Should someone have severe or hostile differences of opinion with another person it’s my hope that the involved parties would settle their disputes in private.
- Like us on Facebook
- My story follows the photo and link tool. I enjoy honest comments and welcome constructive criticism.
- Shalom,
Rochelle
Genre: Let the Farce be with you.
Word Count: 96
TAKE A NUMBER
“To Randall B. Johnson. My first husband.” Marilee raised her glass. “Good riddance.”
“To my Randy,” Juanita lifted her half empty goblet. “The snake. Glad I divorced him.”
“Yeah, but he was pretty, wasn’t he?”
“Pretty slimy.”
“I hear he’s getting married again.”
“Who’d be that stupid?”
Juanita raised an eyebrow. “Two ex-Mrs. Johnsons walk into a bar.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“Like you’d have listened?”
“There is that.” Marilee sipped her sangria and relished its bitter-sweetness. “Suppose we should educate the future ex-Mrs. Rat Bastard Johnson?”
“Nah, let’s just plan on a threesome next year.”
EMERGENCIES OF A DIFFERENT SORT
Published November 9, 2013 by rochellewisoffA few days ago I managed to burn the roof of my mouth on a baked potato. Please don’t ask for details, it’s embarrassing. If that’s not bad enough, the burn turned into rather nasty aphthous stomatitis. Mouth ulcer.
By Friday I couldn’t eat, because the tiniest nick caused so much pain I wanted cut off my head. After getting my boss’ okay to leave the bakery early I went to a close-by pharmacy with an urgent care.
This particular store refers to this as a “minute clinic.” There I waited over two hours to be seen by the solitary, overtaxed nurse practitioner.
“Why am I seeing you today?”
“My mouth hurts.”
While she entered my particulars into her data base, I went on to explain how I’d injured myself and how much it hurt.
What I expected next was that she would look at my poor mangled mouth, write a prescription and send me to the pharmacy counter to have it filled. And, of course, that’s not what happened.
She had to take my vitals.
“Blood pressure is a little high, but pain will do that.”
Then she listened to my heart for a full minute.
“Have you had heart problems?”
“No.”
“Your heart rate is too low. It’s between 40 and 44.”
“I work out. It’s always been low.”
“This is dangerously low.”
After scaring me into thinking I would soon be corpse du jour, she informed me that she was sending me to ER and no way would she allow me to drive.
“Do you have dizziness or pain.”
“Yes. I haven’t eaten all day because my mouth hurts.”
“I’m more concerned for your heart. They will give you lidocaine at the hospital.”
At her insistence I called my husband to share my news. I could hear the controlled terror in his voice. Then I sat for another forty minutes until he arrived. He took me to the hospital close to our house. Another forty minutes of evening wasted.
“You feeling okay, honey,” he asked.
“No. I’m starving and my mouth hurts.”
When we reached the ER, I was quickly ushered to an examination room, changed out of my icing-crusted uniform into one of those famed hospital numbers of song and story.
This time the nurse hooked me up to a heart monitor, automatic sphygmomanometer and stuck little rubber contacts all over me to prepare for an EKG. Then the interrogation began.
“What meds are you taking? Any allergies?”
I answered each question to the best of my ability. Then the doctor came in and asked more questions.
“Are you having any pain?
”
“My mouth hurts.”
By then, I’d played “Who’s on First, What’s on Second” with at least four professionals.
The doctor shined her little flashlight in my open mouth. “Yep. I advise using Anbesol. I don’t have any so you’ll have to go to Walmart.”
Then she told me she was going to hook me up to an IV, take some blood and check my electrolytes.
The whole ordeal took another two hours culminating with the doctor telling me everything looked great and that I just have a low heart rate.
“I’m sending you home.”
As the nurse wrapped up the visit she asked me if I had any pain.
“My mouth hurts.”
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 