I'm Marsha and I'm "the three F's" (Fat, Female, and Fifty Plus)I hate spiders, jello, punk rock music, and mean people.
I love gospel music, although, lately I've had the Teletubbies theme song playing n my head. But that's a personal problem. The Gaither Vocal Band is great uplifting music for making you want to jump up and down in your living room or clean your house while you listen.
My reason for getting out of bed in the morning is CHOCOLATE. Here's my (partly true, partly fiction) life story which should not be taken internally or seriously:
I was born in the wagon of a travelin' show. My mama had to dance for the money they'd throw. Wait a minute, that's not right. I wasn't born in a gypsy wagon . . .
Actually, I was born a long time ago at a very early age in Joliet, Illinois. When I was young, I lived a simple and happy but futile life as a part-time undercover game warden and dance hall girl. By the time I was 13, I had amassed a small fortune as part owner of an open pit Prozac mine in Provo, Utah. I'm presently working on my latest invention: Prozac flavored kool-aid.
At the age of 20, I married bowlegged Eddie
and moved to the booming metropolis of Harshaw, Wisconsin. I became a domestic goddess and all the girls in Harshaw wished they could be like me.
My life is now full of romance,
excitement, danger, and dust balls the size of cattle.
In 1976, I gave birth to twins -- Twelve Toed Freddie and Cross Eyed Betty.
My hobbies include ignoring my dirty windows, riding my pet goat Shirley, and plucking chickens. Last summer, I was crowned the quickest chicken plucker in the county.
The only sport I like is surfing the web. I used to enjoy gardening; but now the only thing I plant each summer is my big behind in a lawn chair.
Right now, I am sitting smack dab in the middle of what my (so-called) life turned out to be! Yes, I must face the fact. Along with all you other hula hoop spinning, mouseketeer watching baby boomers, I have entered the middle ages. I can no longer identify with Wally and the Beav. I have become June Cleaver!!!!! AAAAAH! My life has all the glamour of an over-flowing dumpster.
I used to be very indecisive, but now I'm not so sure. Some people tell me that I'm superficial, but that's just on the surface.
I wanted to usher in the new year by having whole body lyposuction, but instead I just had a hysterectomy. When the doctor cut me open, he found a set of false teeth, three marbles, and $2.50 in change that I had swallowed as a child. The operation was a success, but the doctor told me not to climb stairs. I'm sure sorry about that, because climbing up the drain pipe is no picnic!
All this inactivity has caused me to gain a lot of weight. My stomach now reaches the shower several minutes before the rest of my body. It's handy, though. I no longer need tv trays. I can serve snacks on my stomach.
I recently finished a temporary, part-time job that kept me busy this past winter moonlighting as Phyllis Diller's' stunt double in a movie called "Streetfighting Granny."
Because of my connective tissue disease and my impaired sight, I'm retired now. That means I have a lot of time on my hands (not to mention a nasty looking rash). I spend a good deal of that time on the internet.
I also spend a lot of time working out. My daily workout schedule consists of breathing in place, sitting in place, and aerobic eating.
April 12, I celebrated 35 years of marital bliss. Well, 35 years of marriage, anyway. My husband and I are getting along better these days, now that we are too old and too tired to fight anymore. We can no longer lift heavy appliances to throw them at each other.
Actually, we don't consider ourselves old. We're just chronologically disadvantaged, which isn't so bad. It's just that the iron in our blood has turned into lead in the seat of our pants. And new wrinkles are covering my body at roughly the same rate that the rain forest is being depleted. Do you suppose that the two are somehow connected?
With age (and brain trauma from a bad car accident) has come severe memory loss. I can be found frequently wandering around the parking lot at the mall searching for my car. I hate that, it's so embarrasing! I not only forget WHERE I parked, I also forget WHICH vehicle I drove there and sometimes I try to drive home in someone else's car. I need one of those little signs to hang in the window that says, "Idiot on Board."
I told my husband, what's-his-name, I have to do something about this forgetfulness.
I have a wonderful eleven-year-old grandson, named COBI,
HE IS SOOOOOOOOO SMART! He takes after his grandma. It's only a matter of time before he's designated a national treasure.
Below is an old but funny picture of him with ME! We're two of a kind. (click on the thumbnail to enlarge it)
We also have a brain-damaged fifteen pound dog who rules our household with an iron paw. By the way, he's for sale, very cheap! If you're interested in a live-in fertilizer (a.k.a. toy poodle) that barks 20 hours out of 24, call me. It's not required, but it would be to your advantage if you cannot smell, since his breath is worse than any fish cannery.
Our twenty-nine year old son recently moved back home. I guess it's true what we've heard: your children will continue to cost you more and more money until you either die or become a street person. I wonder which will come first for me! I saved the box my new fridge came in, just in case I need to live in it.
People envy me because I am a dynamic figure, often seen crushing ice and managing time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I woo men with my sensuous trombone playing, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in only twenty minutes.
I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru. Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in Bolivia from a horde of ferocious army ants.
I play bluegrass cello, and I am the subject of numerous documentaries. On Wednesdays, I repair toaster ovens free of charge at the senior center. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of burlap evening wear and I never perspire.
I have been caller number five and won the free dinner. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling catapulting demonstration. Animals love me, and I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy.
I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refinish all my antique furniture. Everything in my pantry is alphabetized and I know the exact location of every food item in the grocery store. I have performed several covert operations with the CIA.
While on vacation in Pakistan, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. I weave rugs, I make my own soap and candles, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago, I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down.
I breed prize-winning clams. I have won bake offs, seed-spitting contests, burping competitions, and spelling bees, AND I've seen Elvis!
Marsha Mellow
Making people laugh for 87 years.
This website is dedicated to
the pursuit of tasteless humor
and it is not intended for use as a step ladder, diaphragm, or frisbee. So don't bother suing me if you break an arm or have twins after reading this. The content of this page was smuggled out of Harshaw, Wisconsin in its original, uncensored form. When viewed upside down, it may contain subliminal messages. Many of my humorous works are already critically ignored and hang in some of the finest public restrooms in the county.
(Please take this with a grain of salt and two aspirin. Some Exlax wouldn't hurt either.)
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