And it's mud season!
Mar. 30th, 2013 01:50 pmMud season has arrived here in New Hampshire-- there is still snow in the woods, but for the most part the ground is clear (and sqooshy), and the town has sent out the 'Bears are on the move' notice. I brought my bike in for its annual spring tuneup today, at 11AM I was "the 50th" person to do so, according to the bike shop, but they still promised to get it back to me before next weekend.
I have given in to the New Hampshire mindset and bought a pair of sturdy mudboots, suitable for hiking in deep mud and swamps, which will stand me in good stead when I'm tasked as a Dog Nanny in April.
Trip to the bike store somehow resulted in a need to stop at the Harpoon Brewery in Windsor, Vermont, where the locals rubbed shoulders with the tourists. Locals talked about the successful sugaring season, and whether the town was ever going to fix the frost heaves on "fill in the blank road name, there's one in every town." Tourists exclaimed over how cute the brewery was, and where they were heading next. I had a White IPA (very nice indeed) with lunch, then fled before the tourists packed the place. By the time summer gets here, tourists will outnumber locals by 10 to 1, but it's all good for the economy, so we don't complain. Well, not much.
And now, in honor of the sacred bunny holiday, I give you my favorite joke. I'm confident that when I've forgotten all else, including my name, I'll still remember this.
What do you get when you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
Hot Cross Bunnies!
In self defense, I don't know why I find this joke so funny, I just do. Past attempts to explain the innate hilarity of the joke usually lead to arm flailing and earnest explanations of "But they're bunnies! And they're mad!" Where "mad" has at least two syllables "ma-ad".
It's likely genetic. Most times when we proposed going to Friendly's, my father used to reply "Let's go to Enemies instead" or "Why isn't there a restaurant called Enemies?" And then he would laugh, because whether it was the first time or the thousandth time, he didn't need anyone else's feedback to realize that this was a truly funny joke.
I have given in to the New Hampshire mindset and bought a pair of sturdy mudboots, suitable for hiking in deep mud and swamps, which will stand me in good stead when I'm tasked as a Dog Nanny in April.
Trip to the bike store somehow resulted in a need to stop at the Harpoon Brewery in Windsor, Vermont, where the locals rubbed shoulders with the tourists. Locals talked about the successful sugaring season, and whether the town was ever going to fix the frost heaves on "fill in the blank road name, there's one in every town." Tourists exclaimed over how cute the brewery was, and where they were heading next. I had a White IPA (very nice indeed) with lunch, then fled before the tourists packed the place. By the time summer gets here, tourists will outnumber locals by 10 to 1, but it's all good for the economy, so we don't complain. Well, not much.
And now, in honor of the sacred bunny holiday, I give you my favorite joke. I'm confident that when I've forgotten all else, including my name, I'll still remember this.
What do you get when you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
Hot Cross Bunnies!
In self defense, I don't know why I find this joke so funny, I just do. Past attempts to explain the innate hilarity of the joke usually lead to arm flailing and earnest explanations of "But they're bunnies! And they're mad!" Where "mad" has at least two syllables "ma-ad".
It's likely genetic. Most times when we proposed going to Friendly's, my father used to reply "Let's go to Enemies instead" or "Why isn't there a restaurant called Enemies?" And then he would laugh, because whether it was the first time or the thousandth time, he didn't need anyone else's feedback to realize that this was a truly funny joke.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-31 02:06 am (UTC)Hey, that joke was better than a groaner....
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-31 11:35 am (UTC)