by TEJ | Jul 25, 2024 | Lifestyles humor
A widower friend of mine recently decided to jump back into the dating pool. He wanted to spruce up his Match.com profile in hopes of receiving a better response from women. He made one small mistake: He came to me for help.
Recently, a longtime widower friend of mine concluded he’d been alone and lonely for too long. He decided to take the plunge and get back into the dating pool. He created his Match.com profile, with several photos and posted them. Alas, he’s not been thrilled with the response he’s received thus far.
He told me he’d seen far too many similar, lame profiles posted by other men seeking female companionship who annoyingly employ the same hackneyed profile lines, like “I enjoy yoga, Pilates, hiking, walks along the beach, a playful French wine, the feel of the salt air in my hair, or whatever else it is you chicks are looking for these days.”
He knew that as a humor writer, I have a certain way with words. So, perhaps against his better judgment, he asked if I could assist him. Being notoriously generous by nature, I told him I’d be happy to help him out. He thought that I might be able to come up with a few attention-grabbing starter lines to make his profile stand out from the crowd.
My friend went on to explain that Match.com offers starter phrases for you to fill out to paint an appealing picture of you for prospective matches. Below, before the ellipsis dots (…) are actual starter phrases provided by Match.com. My friend (for the moment at least) shared these with me, and I took it from there. After the ellipsis dots are the responses I’ve come up with so far:
I spend my free time…. searching for a cure for cancer. I’m THIS CLOSE. Soon the Nobel Prize will be mine. All mine!
I would never ever… join Al-Qaeda or ISIS. I hope I don’t have to explain why. If you ask me, the reasons should be obvious.
My happy place… is my 7,000 sq. ft. mansion on the shore of Italy’s Lake Como – just as soon as I can convince George Clooney to sell it to me in a swap for my 850 sq. ft. mobile home.
Things I’m thankful for…. include the fact that, to the best of my knowledge, I’m not on ANY major airline’s No Fly List. (I don’t consider Spirit Airlines a major airline.)
The most influential person in my life… is probably my parole officer. He holds my freedom’s fate in the palm of his hand.
A dream I would like to come true… would be to win People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. Heck, I’d be honored just to make it to one of the top five finalists.
If I am in a bad mood… I know it will usually quickly pass – unless you stole my chocolate chip ice cream, in which case, you are dead to me.
The one thing that always cheers me up… is seeing high school classmates who thought they were better than me get convicted and sent off to prison.
If I need advice, I’m calling… the Psychic Hotline. They have never steered me wrong – if you don’t count that one time they advised me to put all my retirement savings into Blockbuster Video. That one stung, I’m not going to lie.
Something that always makes me laugh… is when a rambunctious cat bats a priceless vase off a table, and it crashes into a thousand pieces – especially if the vase belonged to someone I don’t particularly care for, like my one of my four ex-wives.
An odd habit of mine… is that I sometimes have this uncontrollable urge to press all the buttons for every floor just as I’m exiting the elevator – but I only do that when I’m off my meds.
Five years from now… if everything goes as planned, and I get that raise I’m overdue for at McDonald‘s, I will be just six years from paying off the last of my graduate school student loans.
A perfect day for me… starts and ends with a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream while falling asleep on the recliner after having watched the film Caddyshack for the 125th time. (That movie never gets old to me.)
I should do this more often… I’d have to go with remembering to brake for pedestrians in crosswalks. Come to think of it, I probably shouldn’t be driving so much anymore, now that my driver’s license has been revoked – for almost running over pedestrians in crosswalks.
My most unforgettable travel story… was when, as a young child, Somali terrorists kidnapped me while on a family vacation and I was taken to their hideout deep in the Ugandan jungle. My parents debated for two weeks whether to pay the $500 ransom. Now, that was a CA-RAZY vacation!
I spend much of my free time… trying to beat my record time at Rubik’s Cube. My personal best: 5 days, 4 hours, 11 minutes.
I would really like to meet in person… Homer Simpson because everybody keeps telling me he reminds them of me. Or maybe Jesus. But I doubt I’ll ever meet Jesus in my lifetime – unless I can work out the kinks in the time machine I’ve been building in my basement since 2nd grade.
The first thing people often notice about me… is that I’m not wearing pants. Don’t worry. I almost always wear them on the first date – and always at work – unless I’m working from home, which is most of the time now… ever since my employer insisted I stop coming into the office… because I forgot to wear pants.
Well, what do you think? I believe there’s a good chance, thanks to my creative suggestions, that my friend is going to receive more responses than he ever imagined from scores of women. Of course, it’s possible some of those responses might be along the lines of, “Whoever you are, NEVER EVER contact me again.” Or maybe, just maybe, he’ll find the love of his life. The way I see it, it could go either way.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
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by TEJ | Jul 5, 2024 | Other Attempts at Humor
[The following is a true story about my friend Neil. We went to high school together and we are close friends to this day. – TEJ]
It started with a blanket at an outdoor movie show at the end of their senior year. A chance encounter that would change the destiny of two young people.
Neil was only sixteen years old, a junior at an all-boys’ military academy. He loved computers, something that was just starting to be taught at our school (the year was 1972). He earned good grades, competed on various sports teams, and was excited about heading off to college in another year.
Then suddenly, the trajectory of his life would be forever changed – in a most devastating, cruel way. Neil suffered a massive stroke. It would leave the entire left side of his body paralyzed.
No one saw this coming. It was a freak medical crisis. Miraculously, it did not impact Neil’s mental or speaking abilities in any way. But he could barely move parts of the left side of his body. In the six months following his stroke, he endured painful physical therapy just to help him re-learn how to dress, bathe, and walk.
Throughout his arduous ordeal, Neil wondered to himself: Will I ever walk again? Will I be able to attend college? Will anyone ever want to go out with someone in my condition? Will I ever have children of my own? What will my life become, now that I can’t fully use my left arm, hand, or leg? Doctors told Neil he would never have full use of the left side of his body. They were right.
On top of the physical devastation, Neil’s world shrunk smaller and smaller. He became more introverted than before. His self-confidence was crushed. It was impossible to hide his affliction.
As soon as Neil discovered computers in 1972, he signed up for the first computer programming class his high school ever taught. This became central to his college and career journey.
It was a long, tedious journey. But thanks to Neil’s own enormous perseverance – and several excellent physical therapists – in time, Neil was able to walk again – albeit using only his right side, essentially thrusting his body to move his uncooperative left leg forward. He took make-up classes and incredibly graduated from high school on time, and with honors.
Neil attended a small area college called Siena College. Because of his mobility limitations Neil was not suited to the challenges of dorm life. He lived at home and commuted to college. Neil learned how to drive using only his right extremities. He dove into his college studies, majoring in math and computers.
On his second day of classes in his freshman year, in an elective course that was his fourth and last choice, called East Asian Studies, Neil sat next to a young woman with kind eyes and short brown hair. Her name was Maryann. They exchanged a few banal pleasantries, but apparently Neil did not make much of an impression on this young woman. I say this because they were in this same class together for two semesters, but they never said another word to each other for the rest of the school year.
Neil and Maryann met on their second day of college. They didn’t speak again until the final day of their senior year. Fate kept them apart… and then brought them together again.
Over the next three years, they never saw each other – except for the occasional casual wave or head nod as they passed each other on campus – because almost all of Neil’s courses were in the college’s science building, while Maryann’s courses were in the business building, since she was an accounting major. Even though Neil really liked Maryann, his introversion and lack of self-confidence kept him from pursuing a closer friendship. He got involved in the Student Senate and the Math Club instead.
Four years went by. It was now the tail end of Neil’s senior year. Final exams were over. All that remained other than Graduation Day were a couple of days on campus filled with a series of social activities for the departing senior class, before they all scattered and headed off on their own separate journeys.
Neil drove to campus to see one of their outdoor movies, a WW II film called A Bridge Too Far. He brought a blanket and sat by himself. As Neil sat, alone on his blanket, three people parked their blanket right next to his. It was that girl from his freshman year. Oh, Neil remembered her name, that’s for sure: Maryann. She was with two other friends. But as they all settled on their blanket, Maryann looked over at Neil’s blanket and casually, without asking, sat with him. Neil was taken aback, of course, but he was delighted by her unexpected move. They chatted casually about nothing in particular, watched the movie, said goodnight, and parted company.
Neil thought about his missed opportunity. He was by now quite smitten by Maryann, but he had no idea whether any of his feelings were reciprocated.
Three days later came graduation. One final chance to see Maryann. Neil watched as she walked across the stage several times to receive one award after another. But he never found the courage to approach her. Opportunity missed, again. As Neil ambled to his car to head home, he glanced across the parking lot. There, in the distance, he spotted Maryann with her parents, getting into their car, about to leave his life forever.
Neil and Maryann, with their son, two daughters, and daughter -in-law. They would go on to have three grandchildren (so far).
Neil realized it was literally now or never. He hopped in his car, took a deep breath to fight his overwhelming pangs of anxiety and fear of the impending rejection he felt certain he was about to experience. He drove right up to Maryann’s parents’ car. He jumped out and headed as quickly as his uncooperative legs would transport him – over to their car. As her parents, no doubt confused, watched this stranger approach their car, Neil hurriedly, with no segue, blurted out, “Maryann, would you like to go out sometime?” He calculated that perhaps by asking her out in front of her parents, she might be less likely to reject him outright. Neil was right. Maryann said yes.
Neil’s bold, if not desperate, move paid off. They would go on to date for a couple years. Then in 1982, Neil and Maryann wed. Over the next four decades, they would travel all over the world. They would go on to have three children and, at last count, three grandchildren, all healthy and thriving. Maryann got involved in photography. Neil started playing golf (yes, golf – and despite only using his right hand, he became quite good at it).
Neil and Maryann traveled all over the world in their marriage, including the Great Wall of China.
Alas, as with some love stories, this one has a bittersweet ending. A few years ago, Maryann was informed she had a dormant, congenital heart condition that would eventually require a heart transplant. In 2022, she had what was initially presumed to be a successful heart replacement surgery – until two weeks after surgery, when several major organs started shutting down. Maryann’s heart was just not strong enough to continue the battle. She passed away in the spring of 2022, after 40 years of marriage.
Neil continues to travel with family members and friends from their church to this day, because Maryann told him in her final months that if she did not pull through, she wanted Neil to promise to continue with the travels they had planned together.
Neil misses his soulmate deeply every day. But he will forever be grateful to Maryann for the happy life they shared together, the wonderful children they raised together, and for her decision so many years ago to sit with him on his blanket.
That’s the view from the bleachers.
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by TEJ | Jun 22, 2024 | Business humor, Lifestyles humor
Hey, friends. Tim Jones here. You may know me as a humor writer. But now that I’ve mastered that field (unless you ask my children), I’ve decided to embark on a new creative journey – life as an artist. I have a good feeling about this (even if my wife does not).
I love my wife, Michele. She’s a very smart, incredibly talented artist. Even her name sounds like an artist: Michele Rushworth. We can be competitive in some ways, but the truth is, our talents tend to lie in totally different arenas. For example, she can make incredibly tasty, nutritious meals, and I …. cannot. On the other hand, there’s not a sport you can name at which my wife can defeat me. That’s because she has about as much interest in learning how to play, say, pickleball, as our cat Zippy has in learning about the intricacies of cryptocurrency.
But there’s one area where, if I’m being honest, I must grudgingly admit my wife has the edge – anything to do with art. She went to art school. I, on the other hand, graduated from a liberal arts program with a degree in Communications – which, upon my graduation, opened up a universe of exciting possible entry level job opportunities – mainly in the food services industry.
For the past 25+ years, Michele has painted incredible, lifelike portraits of judges, university presidents, orchestra conductors, military generals, philanthropists, and snotty rich children posed next to their prissy Irish Wolfhound named Prince Tuckahoe.
If you’re curious about how talented a portrait artist my wife is, check out some of her portraits here. (And no, those aren’t photographs. Those are oil paintings.) But her real passion is painting landscapes of lakes, coastal areas, flowers, mountains, and birds – in other words, chick stuff. See what I mean here. I’m not one to toot my own horn, but I recently found out that I am the co-owner of the largest private collection of original Michele Rushworth artwork in the world.
Watching Michele create her masterpieces has inspired me to explore my own latent artistic potential. I retired a couple years ago from a career in sales and marketing, so I have more time on my hands lately. I believe there’s room for more than one artist in this house. So, I put down my writing pen, picked up the paintbrush, and am now well on my way to challenging my wife for household artistic supremacy.
I’ve only been at it a couple months – three, if you count my color-by-numbers coloring books initiation. I recently completed a painting of a horse prancing around in a field with a red barn in the background. When I showed it to a complete stranger for their reaction, they had no idea what it was, thinking that it might be an octopus or perhaps a school bus or maybe a mutant platypus, with a red barn in the background. On a positive note, I appear to have totally mastered how to paint a red barn.
Lately I’ve seen a marked improvement in my technique. Within less than three months, I had already progressed from finger painting to drawing with crayons, then colored pencils, and now I’m using actual paintbrushes – just like da Vinci used to paint the Mona Lisa. Check out the side-by-side comparison of da Vinci’s masterpiece vs. my own below. In case you’re uncertain, mine is the painting on the right.
Left: The Mona Lisa, by Leonardo da Vinci. Right: My own interpretation of this subject. I felt she needed a party hat and a bowl of popcorn, to make her feel happier. Okay, so I took some artistic license. Still, I think I nailed it.
Oh sure, my technique is a bit primitive, but I’m still in the early stages of my artistic renaissance. Eventually, I anticipate it will be difficult to tell the difference between an original Rushworth painting and an original Jones – assuming you’re drunk, can’t find your glasses, or are a dog.
But I have one thing going for me that my wife doesn’t have. I obtained a graduate degree in marketing, not to mention having spent over a decade in advertising. So, I know a thing or two about how to promote my work and generate some buzz. I just came up with this brilliant promotion: With your first purchase of an original Jones artwork, I’ll give you a punch card. Buy ten Jones originals, get all ten circles on your card punched, and voilà, your eleventh painting is half price. That’s called marketing, buddy.
I thought briefly about trying to create a media stir like the famous graffiti street artist known as Banksy does. He’s built almost a cult following by creating bold, sometimes controversial, works of street art in secrecy without asking permission. I tried doing this last week, painting over several area stop signs with the edgy word “GO” where the word “STOP” used to appear. It was done extremely tastefully. Alas, I was unable to explain to the arresting officer that this was just artistic expression, protected by our Constitution.
One idea I had was to offer a free lifetime subscription to my View from the Bleachers column, to any customer who purchased one of my original paintings. But one kind person suggested that instead, perhaps the incentive should be that the purchaser could request to be permanently UNSUBSCRIBED from my column. If it will help sell my work, I’m open to that suggestion.
My wife’s landscape paintings typically sell for thousands of dollars. I might have to start out a little lower initially until I build up a following. I showed a buddy of mine some of my most recent paintings. He suggested I start at Five dollars – or Best Offer. Hmm. This could be a tougher nut to crack than I thought.
Left: My wife’s oil painting of lily pads. Right: My own interpretation of the same subject matter. At first blush, it’s easy to mistake my wife’s artwork as superior. But notice how she totally left out the frog in her image – a glaring oversight, if you ask me.
I have no idea whether my artistic gifts will ever rival those of my artist wife. But one thing’s for sure – she will never match my prices. I accept cash, check, Venmo, and Dairy Queen gift cards.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like, or sharing this post on Facebook.
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by TEJ | Jun 4, 2024 | Parenting and Family humor, Political humor
In the Garden of Eden, everything was going great until Eve tempted Adam to disobey God and eat the apple. That’s when all Hell broke out. The moral of the story: It’s all the girl’s fault – at least that’s what I got out of the story. Maybe I’m wrong.
I discovered there are some extremely helpful life lessons found in the Bible. For example, the story of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden. When the serpent tempted Eve to eat the forbidden fruit, she selfishly convinced Adam to do the same, even though this was strictly against God’s direct order not to eat the apple. When Adam caved to her unrelenting nagging, God banished both of them into the wilderness and destroyed the Tree of Knowledge. I think the takeaway lesson from this story is clear: Adam may have screwed up, but technically, it was really mostly Eve’s fault. Like 90%.
Just as Adam blamed Eve for his ill-advised decision, there have been a spate of recent news stories about other men throwing their wives under the proverbial bus, blaming them for the husband’s own bad behavior. New Jersey Senator Robert Menendez was indicted for a bribery scheme involving hundreds of thousands of dollars in gifts and cash. When the Feds caught him red-handed with the loot, including actual bars of gold bullion, the Senator manned up and took the fall. I’m just kidding. He denied everything and blamed his wife for the entire scandal, claiming she kept him in the dark about her scheme.
Then there’s Samuel Alito. This nice man is a justice on the U.S. Supreme Court, holding one of our nation’s most trusted positions of power. It was recently reported that for several days in the immediate aftermath of the January 6th storming of the U.S. Capitol, he flew an American flag upside down in his front yard. The upside down flag is widely known to symbolize support by people sympathetic to the “Stop the Steal” election-denying cause.
When confronted by journalists as to why a Supreme Court Justice would prominently display such an obvious symbol of political protest at his residence only days before Biden was sworn in, Alito did the noble thing: He blamed his wife. He claimed he had nothing to do with it and that his wife had put up the flag due to a spat she was embroiled in with an anti-Trump neighbor. Well played, Sammy. Well played.
Left: NJ Senator Robert Menendez; Right: Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito. What do these men have in common: Both their wives hate them, since they both blamed them for their own bad behavior.
The obvious takeaway for husbands is that it’s perfectly acceptable to blame your wife when you get caught doing something reckless or morally egregious. For too many years, we husbands have been held accountable by our wives simply for making boneheaded, impulsive, and poorly thought-out decisions which we hoped our wives would never find out about. It’s time we held our ground and shifted the blame for our many failings squarely where it belongs: with our wives.
Let me explain how this works. Say you’ve been jonesing for a 20-foot power boat for years, but your wife keeps pointing out that “we can’t afford it.” This despite the fact that you’ve never once complained about all the times she’s gotten her hair done at that fancy salon.
My advice, following in the footsteps of inspirational men like Menendez and Alito, is to ignore her protestations. Go out and buy that boat anyway. You deserve it. And if she ever finds out (which is possible since it’s hard to hide a 20-foot boat in your garage), just blame your impulse purchase on your wife.
Point out that when she said, “You really shouldn’t buy that boat,” you thought she meant, “Oh, my, you really shouldn’t, my darling” the way southern women in the movies often blush and say things like that when what they really mean is “Oh, my, Thank you, darling. How did you know? I just love it. Of course, I will have sex with you tonight.” Explain how you bought it for HER, not even thinking about yourself, and how you plan to name her boat “Beautiful Gal” in her honor. And how the dealer doesn’t accept returns after the sale.
But be careful about trying this technique if you’re thinking about buying those top-of-the-line titanium Calloway golf clubs without her permission. She might not be convinced you bought them for her, given the last time she played golf was 1994 – and all the holes came with castles, clown faces, and pirate ships.
Let’s say you just put half of your retirement nest egg into some convoluted cryptocurrency scheme your buddy Artie told you was sure to quadruple your investment in five months. Say it tanks, becoming totally worthless. Remember, it’s not your fault. It’s HER fault. After all, your wife was the one who once said, “Gosh, I wish we’d invested in Google back when it first went public.” So, clearly she was giving you her tacit permission to try to load up on the next unicorn buying opportunity.
Is it your fault that it turned out that your $200,000 investment in BUBBA BUCKS crypto turned out to be pyramid scheme run by an ex-con named Bubba who had recently served ten years for defrauding people by selling them non-existent condos on the moon? Okay, technically, yeah, it IS your fault. But that’s beside the point. Your wife planted the idea in your brain with that Google comment. So, she’s at least half to blame.
See this poor husband? He’s grossly overweight from eating junk food and never exercising. But it’s not his fault. Blame his wife for serving him his favorite foods and letting him lie on the couch and watch football for hours on end without ever complaining.
Imagine you arrive home at 2am, after playing poker with your buddies – instead of 10pm like you promised your wife – and your wife notices the car’s front bumper has been badly smashed in. Once again, it’s not your fault that you forgot to press the garage door remote, and as a result drove straight into the closed garage door. It could have happened to anyone who was as drunk as you were.
This is clearly your wife’s fault. She should have called you to remind you when the clock struck 10pm to come home NOW! But she didn’t. She deliberately let you keep playing poker and doing tequila shots. So, why should you be blamed simply for failing to notice the garage door was shut when you rammed your Ford F-150 pickup truck into it at 32 mph?
In any healthy marriage, the wife needs to accept at least 50% of the blame for your mistakes. If she really loves you, she’ll agree to take more like 75%. Remember, guys. We’re just men. We’re designed to fuck up. It’s in our caveman DNA. If your wife couldn’t figure that out by the time she agreed to marry you, if you ask me, that’s on her.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my latest book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’m Open to Suggestions).
by TEJ | May 18, 2024 | Fun and Leisure Humor, Pop culture humor
If you’re an American thinking of traveling to Pakistan, perhaps I can help steer you in the right direction, because I recently returned from that amazing country myself. Don’t believe all the media hysteria. People there are amazingly kind and welcoming. But before you go, remember the following travel tips:
1st, Try to learn a few basic words and phrases of Urdu (the primary language spoken there). The locals will deeply appreciate your attempt to talk in their language, even if it’s just to say hello, thank you, or “Where is the nearest McDonalds?”
2nd, Remember you’re a guest in their culture. Show respect for their traditions.
3rd, You might not want to wear your favorite “HEY, HEY, USA – WE’RE NUMBER 1” t-shirt. Our two governments are not big fans of each other at the moment. And if you’re a woman, cover your arms and legs. They don’t need to see your Batman Forever tramp stamp or, for that matter, the tattoo that reads “Jesus Saves.”
4th, No beer keg parties in your hotel room. Pakistan, like most Muslim nations, is a dry country. Alcohol is forbidden by their religion. But Mountain Dew soft drink is not, I’m relieved to report!
5th, And perhaps most importantly, whatever you do, do NOT bring me along with you on your trip. You’re liable to end up in jail, or worse yet, have to sit through a three-day cricket match (their national sport).
Let me back up. When I told people I was going to travel to Pakistan – by myself, sans my wife or as part of a tour – the reactions from just about everyone I told ranged from “Seriously? Pakistan? By yourself? Are you insane?” to “Pakistan? By yourself? Are you insane? Seriously, are you insane?”
L to R: Hafiz, me and Hammad dining overlooking the world-famous Badshahi Mosque in Lahore, Pakistan. Helpful travel tip: While it’s fine to hug your friends, don’t hug every local just because they smile at you. Start by offering to shake hands.
No, I’m not insane. And I had a wonderful time. But I have to say, I did screw up a few times. The reason I went to a country that few American tourists frequent is because of two young Pakistani friends I have come to know over the past three years. Let’s call them Hafiz and Hammad… because well, that’s their names.
Back in 2020, I discovered Hafiz while doing an internet search for a video editor. I was about to start my YouTube channel of VFTB video commentaries. I knew how to record my videos, but I needed help editing, adding background images, inserting photos, captions and sound effects. Hafiz offered these services, and I’ve been working with him ever since.
After a few months, we started creating educational videos in a series called Across the World in which each week we would record myself and Hafiz’s good friend Hammad, discussing various topics from sports to courtship & marriage to our nations’ historic ties to and rebellions from Great Britain. Our goal was to educate Americans about Pakistani culture and vice versa. In the process of all this collaboration, I became good friends with both of these very smart and extremely kind young men. Over time, we forged sort of an Uncle-Nephews kind of bond.
So, in November 2023, I flew from Seattle to Istanbul, changed planes, and flew from there to Lahore, Pakistan in a span of 23 hours. Lahore is a city of more than 12 million people. All this to see my friends in person for the first time. Neither one of them has ever left Pakistan. I cannot say enough about the remarkable warmth, kindness, and patience displayed by the two of them, and every other Pakistani I met.
Oh sure, I had to deal with a Muslim culture very different from my own mostly Christian world back home. I had to navigate my way in cities where most of the people barely spoke English. But keep this in mind: They had to put up with a 68-year-old American humor writer with the maturity of a 17-year-old, who could barely speak a word of Urdu, and who travels around the world with a stuffed animal teddy bear named Grumpy and tries to hug everybody. So, if you ask me, they had the much greater burden to bear.
L to R: Ik-Bal, Grumpy (in front), me, and Hammad. Ik-Bal was so funny and kind, I gave him my hat as a gift. (True) Then he reciprocated by offering to let me marry his sister. (Okay, that part was a lie. My, just how gullible are you?)
I read a fair amount about Pakistan’s culture and history before I arrived. But still, I committed more than my share of cultural faux pas. Let me list just a few of them.
Improper Hugging: I’m a hugger. Guess what? Pakistanis are not – unless you’re a family member or a very close friend. But I hug everybody. Here’s a useful tip to tuck away. If you’re an American man, visiting the home of a Pakistani family, DO NOT HUG THE WIFE. Just trust me on this. You might as well try to give them a French kiss on the mouth. It’s way too forward.
Language mistakes: You don’t have to learn a lot of words. Here is a phrase I used over and over: “Meera Nam Tim Hai.” It means “My name is Tim.” I also found the following phrase came in extremely handy: “Maaf Kee Ji Ye,” which loosely translates to “Excuse me if I offended you. I’m an American tourist, and I’m an idiot.”
But whichever words you memorize, make sure you pronounce them correctly. A very useful word to learn is Alhamdulilah, pronounced “AL-Ham-Du-LEE-Lah.” It loosely means, “I’m good” or more literally, “By God’s grace, I’m good.” However, apparently, I kept pronouncing it “Al-Ham-Du-LOO-Lah.” I don’t know what that errant pronunciation means, but my embarrassed host explained it is essentially an Urdu curse word that should never be uttered.
At one point, I attempted to ask someone for directions, but my words came out so badly mangled in Urdu that apparently I had asked, “Please, may I eat your cat for breakfast?” After that, I pretty much stuck to Hello, Thank You, and Check Please.
One of the local street performers I came across. I asked if I could take his photo, and he said yes. Then I asked if he could play me any songs by Taylor Swift. Said he’d never heard of her. Isn’t that crazy?
Walking in bare feet: When you enter someone’s home, you must take off your shoes. The souls of shoes are considered unsanitary. That said, I found myself walking down the hallway of my hotel in my bare feet and was (politely) stopped by a hotel clerk reminding me (very nicely) that I needed to wear footwear. He immediately provided me with comfy sandals for my feet. I wonder if next time I walked down the hallway stark naked he might provide me with a cool Pakistani man’s outfit. Probably not. Forget I even mentioned the idea.
Despite my periodic stumbles, everyone was very gracious and patient. The Pakistani people I met were the nicest people I have ever met, kind to a fault. The only thing I would criticize about their country is their somewhat embarrassingly lax airport security. How else to explain the fact an American humor writer and his teddy bear Grumpy were permitted entry into the country? Just saying.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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