Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

You are here: Home / Archives for #humor

#humor

Loving Life at Age 20, 40, and 60

By

cabin wine

My five boisterous, funny granddaughters recently came over to make candy trains, a Christmas tradition that I first shared with my children 32 years ago. After their mothers wrangled them together to go home, my 7-year-old granddaughter turned to me and said, “I love making candy trains. After you die, we’re going to keep on making them with our families.”

Talk about a buzz-kill for the holidays! The pure honesty of children can be brutal. I hadn’t thought about dying, but she did bring up an important part of life – it continues with or without us. After the kids and commotion were gone, I poured a glass of wine and sat to contemplate the stages of life.  For me so far, there are three favorite ages.

elaine age 18 u of I

The Tender Twenties

A popular website titled Addicted to Success [addicted2success.com] recently published an article about life lessons that people should know at age 20. The tips included advice on how to relax, suggestions for staying healthy, and a reminder that happiness comes from within. I don’t think these rules are just limited to age 20, but people need to start somewhere.

At 20, I was a junior in college majoring in journalism. My friends were getting married and moving into inexpensive apartments with donated futons, beanbag chairs, and bookshelves made from boards on cinder blocks. That didn’t appeal to me because I didn’t have a steady boyfriend and the world was wide open and waiting for my naive confidence and stubborn independence. After I graduated from college, I loaded all my possessions into my Pontiac Firebird and drove down the road, without a job or a care.

During my twenties, I worked for various companies, I met my future husband, and we had two children. I hurried into my thirties totally exhausted. I worked full-time, had two active kids, a busy marriage, and a home that sprouted clutter. Looking back, I wish I had worked part-time. Even though women at the time were told we could “have it all,” something had to give. My marriage didn’t survive.

elaine age 48 1999

The Fabulous Forties

A recent article in Psychology Today notes that middle-aged people often feel discontent and restless while needing to reassess life and its meaning. They are confronting important issues, including the inevitable physical changes in their bodies, a sense of mortality, and the upcoming empty nest as their children grow up and leave home. Marriages are tested as both partners experience various feelings and turmoil during this time of transition.

For me, age 40 was a time of renewed focus. My children were 10 and 13, so I didn’t have any more childcare issues. I quit my corporate job and became the associate editor of a regional magazine. I divorced and managed to pay the mortgage, fix leaking toilets, and attend the kid’s activities. One pivotal time came when water began pouring from the ceiling into the living room because the rain gutters were clogged. I stood outside on a ladder in the rain scooping out leaves until the gutters were free. I was cold and close to crying, but I finished the job. The experience was liberating.

elaine portrait look back

The Sassy Sixties

According to a recent TODAY survey of 1,500 adults, the 60s can be a positive time of life. Of the participants in the study in their 60s, 72 percent said they felt younger than their age. A majority of the respondents said their journey so far was better than they expected. The key factors to happiness after 60 include personal health and adequate finances. Throw in loving relationships with friends and/or partners and life can be rewarding and fulfilling. Careers are ending so there is more time to volunteer, travel, work on hobbies, and read books from start to finish.

Sometimes I marvel at how I got so old so fast, but really, it’s a wonderful time. My children are grown, married, working, and have delightful children of their own. I married a wonderful man, and we’re having the best time of our lives. We’re free to sleep naked with the bedroom door open, proving that simple pleasures can make life more interesting.

Studies indicate that people who live to age 60 have a likely chance of living until age 82. That gives me two more decades to focus on health, manage my finances, continue to laugh with my grandkids, and chase my husband around the house. I hope to tumble and fumble into my eighties with a sassy attitude of gratitude for an abundant life. And by then, my granddaughters can bring along their kids, and we’ll make some candy trains before I die.

 

A Scholarly Defense of Class Clowns

By

elaine santa 68

Psychologists, well-meaning intellectuals, and exasperated teachers will claim that the class clown is a disruptive, annoying problem-child who is disguising deep emotional pain by acting like an amateur comedian just to get attention. I say that’s academic nonsense because some funny people just like to cause laughter and that’s SO much better than instigating food fights in the cafeteria. I often played the coveted role of Santa Claus at my school’s parent-student Christmas parties, mainly because I was funny but also because my parents didn’t want to be seen with me in public.

Reflecting upon my irreverent behavior in school, I now want to apologize to all my teachers because I was the student from hell. Just ten minutes into a boring lecture, I would fake farts or sing songs from Fiddler on the Roof just so I could get thrown out of class amid guffaws from my snickering comrades in the back of the room. I have such fond memories of vocalizing “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” on my way to the principal’s office. Upon returning to class, I would often hum the more serious version of “Sunrise, Sunset.” Nothing signified contrite redemption like a poignant tribute to oppressed peasants solemnly singing about being laden with happiness and tears.

But I take solace in the words of notable experts who have studied the complex and compelling cornucopia of class clowns. For example, Dr. Maximus Foghorne, renowned specialist in adolescent behavior, noted that young people who desire to provoke laughter from a random audience often exhibit brilliant personal and professional success later in life.

“My studies indicate that society is far too critical of emerging performance and comedic personalities in early developmental stages associated with chronic boredom and the blameless inability to conform to preordained standards of serious decorum,” said Dr. Foghorne. “Obviously, the spirited and independent child should be celebrated and not condemned for outbursts relating to exuberant and animated behavior which often combines excessive energy with wicked wit to be channeled into outstanding achievements throughout adulthood.”

His astute assessments are endorsed by the esteemed Revival Center for Boisterous Behavior and Clinical Comedic Studies at the University of Clownhaven in Thesaurus, Italy.

“Playwrights, theologians, and itinerant thespians concur that the delicate line between absurdity and horror is reflected in our inherent ability to discern humor from tragedy,” said Credence Clearwater, PhD. and Director of the Revival Center. “What manifests as irritating immaturity is actually extraordinary genius frolicking in a grand masquerade into the ballroom of life. We should savor time spent with jesters and learn from their impertinent actions.”

Other professionals concur that the class clown should be tolerated and even praised for introducing sporadic bursts of joyful chaos into a regimented routine that without levity inevitably leads to disillusionment and disaster. So for now, let’s pay homage and offer sincere respect to silly people who can instigate laughter while writing complete fabrications as they present assorted falsehoods as total fact with unsubstantiated opinions. Just because the noted specialists in this article don’t really exist doesn’t mean they don’t really exist. Fun and fantasy trump reality every time. If you can’t be the class clown, sit near one and enjoy the show.

 

Published Today on HuffPo and Midlife Boulevard

By

Two of my essays were published today on two wonderful sites: Huffington Post and Midlife Boulevard:

 

The Day I Totally Nailed It

On Midlife Boulevard, I tell the true but agonizing tale of the time my toenails plopped into my soup at an exclusive private club.

toes in water

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/elaine-ambrose/candy-trains_b_6276154.html

 

On Huffington Post 50, I describe our 30-year-old family tradition of making candy trains.

candy trains e and a

Are You a Victim of CRAP on the Internet?

By

??????????????

I have CRAP Disease, a malady that stands for Compulsive Reader of Angry Posts. I know that certain messages on social media will cause sniveling trolls to wake from their burrow in the basement to slobber over their keyboards, grunt with excitement, and feverishly hurl illiterate, nasty, and incoherent comments. I start to read them anyway, even though I’ll regret seeing proof that colossal fools live among us and threaten to rot the fragile fabric of civilization.

CRAP disease can infest your soul and leave you a cynical, bitter wretch full of CRAP. Be careful, or you also could become a victim.

Here’s how to determine if you’re susceptible to becoming a Compulsive Reader of Angry Posts.

  1. You read comments that others leave on online news articles. Big mistake. Trolls think they know more than elected officials, trained media personnel, and educated professionals. Facts aren’t necessary. They will write just to infect you because they love being full of CRAP and want to share.
  2. You are uncontrollably attracted to comments that include multiple exclamation points!!! Yes, the writer really, really, really wants to shout at strangers. Fight the urge to debate or you’ll end up with CRAP.
  3. You are fascinated with public display of ignorance. We’ve all chuckled at the vitriolic comment that says, “Your an idiot!” Proper grammar and maturity aren’t priorities to people full of CRAP.
  4. You feel a need to help stupid people. Sometimes you’ll gently correct a grammatical or factual error written by someone with limited understanding of basic communication skills. That is another mistake. They will turn on you like a pack of rabid dogs and not let go until you are forced to destroy all your social media accounts, set fire to all your computers and Internet devices, move to a foreign country, and hang a CRAP quarantine sign on your door. If you have a door.
  5. You are a blogger. Beware of the inherent dangers if you post a saucy, 600-word essay on a popular website. The trolls will foam at the mouth and you can almost feel the spray of spit as they pound out snarky remarks besmirching your character, your talent, and your ancestors. Reacting to these comments only will propel you onto the slippery slope toward the cesspool of CRAP.

If you need a CRAP fix, you can dabble in the occasional comment, but be ready to take some vomit-inducing drugs to purge your mind and body of the offensive swill. For example, recently a local television news station posted a Facebook message about a tragic accident where a bicyclist had been hit and killed in traffic. Here is an excerpt from one of the prolific commenters:

“This is the worst state in the united stares…i have been driving sense i was 17…man you people are dumb as a bag rocks were did you get your licenses again bahahahahahaha”

I shouldn’t be so critical, but it’s remarkable to have that many errors in such a short comment. And, as usual, the troll snorted that the rest of us were as “dumb as a bag rocks.” Obviously, my CRAP sensor intensified after reading this and I needed medication to recover. I shut down the computer, poured a glass of wine, and enjoyed a quiet evening free from trolls. Bahahahahahaha.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Six Silly Thanksgiving Memories of Mom

By

mom pumpkin

My mother died on November 1, so this is our first Thanksgiving without her. To make the occasion less painful, I’ve decided to think of funny things she used to do before dementia took her away. For space constraints, the long list has been pruned to only six memories.

  1. Turkey pudding. My mother overcooked the Thanksgiving turkey for two days. For some reason, she thought she was a pilgrim doing a slow-roast over a pit behind the covered wagon so she set the bird in the oven before midnight on low heat and basted it every hour. As a result, she was tired by dinner the next day and the turkey had lost all its shape as the butterball morphed into turkey pudding hanging off the carcass.
  2. Sinking the gravy boat. Because the turkey took all the space in the oven, she cooked the green bean casserole, the potatoes, the gravy, and the stuffing on the stove – all at the same time. She wrapped bread rolls in tin foil and stuffed them around the turkey until they hardened into crusty dough balls. When the gravy was thick enough to stand on its own without a pan, it was time to eat.
  3. Death by sugar. Mom thought there should be a dessert per person. If a dozen guests were coming for dinner, there would be at least four pies, four cakes, and four platters of fudge. Pants and belts were adjusted accordingly.
  4. Cutest cook ever. She required real whipped cream on the pies, so she would aggressively operate her trusty hand mixer like a frantic high-speed drill until the cream was two seconds shy of becoming real butter. She wore a festive, handmade apron over her best holiday sweatshirt, so she resembled a jolly, plump elf scurrying about the kitchen.
  5. Pilfering the pie. My mom loved my aunt’s sweet potato pie and assumed it was a healthy dish because it used a vegetable, despite the butter, brown sugar, pecans, and marshmallow sauce. She would sneak a bowl for herself and hide it behind the pickles in the back of the refrigerator. She later grinned with delight about her sneaky accomplishment.
  6. Her signature dishes. Like a dutiful drill sergeant, she organized the girls and women-folk to hand-wash all the dishes after the meal while the men meandered to the living room to pat their bellies and watch football. She took great pride in dividing leftovers into equal portions and filling Tupperware containers and Corningware dishes for guests to take home. To insure her items were identified and returned, she used fingernail polish to paint her initials on all the containers. I now have stacks of dishes sporting faded red initials “LA.”

This Thanksgiving, the family will come together to toast the holiday and give thanks for our abundant blessings. Some things will remain the same: commotion will come from the children’s table, the men will wrestle for the last turkey leg, and I will declare that red wine goes with turkey – and everything else. The most noticeable difference will be the empty chair at the table. Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. Maybe I’ll sneak a bowl of sweet potatoes for you. Thanks for the funny memories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have You Laughed 17 Times Today?

By

laughing head

What’s with all the gloomy people walking around mumbling and complaining? Don’t they know that laughter is the best medicine? Boisterous laughter is the grand cure that causes your face to contort as you make guttural noises and your eyes water, your gut tumbles, and your mood improves. There is no down side to a good laugh, unless of course it’s at a funeral or in a tragic movie or during sex. Don’t do that.

The world may be boiling in a cesspool of angst, depravity, murder, and disease, but look on the bright side: you’re not getting out alive anyway so you might as well find some humor. I know what makes people laugh: indigestion. Last month I wrote an essay titled “Don’t Fart During an MRI” that was published on The Huffington Post. To date, more than 644,000 people have liked the silly piece and I’m receiving emails of thanks from around the world. The answer to happiness is simple: just fart.

Marshall Brain, founder of How Stuff Works, studied the topic of humor and concluded that human beings love to laugh, and the average adult laughs 17 times a day. Humans love to laugh so much that there are actually industries built around laughter. Jokes, sitcoms and comedians are all designed to get us laughing, because laughing feels good. For us it seems so natural, but the funny thing is that humans are one of the only species that laughs. Laughter is actually a complex response that involves many of the same skills used in solving problems.

Brain notes that laughter is also extremely difficult to control consciously. Try asking a friend to laugh, for example. Most will announce, “I can’t laugh on command,” or some similar statement. Your friends’ observations are accurate — their efforts to laugh on command will be forced or futile. It will take them many seconds to produce a laugh, if they can do it at all. This suggests that we cannot deliberately activate the brain’s mechanisms for affective expression. Playfulness, being in a group, and positive emotional tone mark the social settings of most laughs.

In a serious study on The Science of Laughter published by Robert Provine in Psychology Today, researchers noted that jokes are serious business: they’re innate, important social tools. Authorities from the Bible to Reader’s Digest remind us that “laughter is the best medicine.” Print and broadcast reporters produce upbeat, often frothy stories like “A Laugh a Day Keeps the Doctor Away.” A best-selling Norman Cousins book and a popular Robin Williams film Patch Adams amplified this message. Laughter unites people, and social support has been shown in studies to improve mental and physical health. Indeed, the presumed health benefits of laughter may be coincidental consequences of its primary goal: bringing people together.

Here’s one final thought from Andrea F. Polard, Psy.D, in an article in Psychology Today titled “A Unified Theory of Happiness.” She writes, “We must see life as a divine play and foster lightheartedness. In order to survive, we must play.”

So, turn off the computer, go buy some clown noses, gather some friends, and go play. If that doesn’t work, just fart.