Alex Carrick’s Blog

Penelope Sue had been an incurable romantic almost her entire life. At least, ever since she discovered the word “elopes” hidden within her own name. She was the nicest girl. Everyone agreed on that count. But she had one fatal flaw when it came to men. She expected too much.   That’s why, at the age […]

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Once upon a time, there was a young Canadian boy name Richard, living in a small Prairie town, who played a major role in world events. Up until the age of 18, he did very little to distinguish himself or to set himself apart from the rest of the population. In fact, he’d shown such a […]

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You could tell these two had been at it, off and on, for years. The sparks were so intense and the language so extreme. Accusations were lobbed back and forth and concussive blasts figuratively shook the firmament. It was the dead of night, but the heat of anger made it seem bright as day.

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Once again, last night, the tooth fairy missed coming to our house. Unfortunately, this is a common occurrence. Donna is concerned this paints a poor picture of us as parents.   At least Donna feels guilty. It hardly even registers with me. 

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The following is an old joke that I have expanded, embellished and tried to make more visual. It helps if you stand up and run around the room, as described below, but I’ll leave that up to your discretion. Here goes. 

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The one spectator sport I am still really interested in is the NFL on television and I have to admit it may not be for the best of reasons.

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Nothing symbolizes the start of summer in our neck of cottage country more than a mattress. And that’s not due to the strange alchemy and hormonal urges that meld dangerously when sand, sun and teenagers mix. No, it’s rather because June 1 is traditionally big garbage day.

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My wife can read my mind, which makes it easier for her to steal things from me.   Okay, before I get into big trouble, “steal” is too strong a word. Borrow long-term is a better description.  

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There is bathroom humour and then there is “in the bathroom” humour, which may be a form of advertising.   I have been accused, on occasion, of using bathroom humour in my speeches and written material. This mystified me until I realized that there had been a misunderstanding.  

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The following may not be the equal of an Aesop’s fable or quite as entertaining as something written by Hans Christian Andersen or the Brothers Grimm, but it does convey a message of sorts.

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