Monthly Archives: March 2010

Squawkin’ and Some Real Good Singin’, don’tcha know

Signs of summer here at Lake WhaddyathinkImean … wakin’  up to squawkin’ geese on the lake just down the hill from my cottage, don’tcha know.  Started at the crack of daylite and it’s still wakin’ up the village.

Now my Auntie Fester usta stuff her earholes with cotton balls the whole summer long. But I kinda like my new fangled alarm clock. I missed the geese these long winter months. Life is good, even if it’s noisy.

Here’s some singin’ that as my good friend Sybil Beaucannon Hughes would say is: Fab-u-licious!  Holyburton’s own rock celebrity, Carl Dixon sang up a storm in Holyburton t’other night. Why that man could power the CN Tower, don’tcha know. Thought his guitar was gonna fly right outta his hands. And his voice! He hit notes Ripley wouldn’t believe.

Well, Vilma Yuccch and Officer Stanley Penelope McBottom jumped right outta their seats and started dancin’ like there was no tamarra.  Beanpole kept buggin’ me ta dance, and Twindle Mumbly lit his shoes on fire with Sybil B.  The whole room was jumpin’. Good ol’ rock songs and even a couple of Jo-Annie Mitchell’s, don’tcha know. Yep, that Carl D sure is somethin’ special!

Too bad they don’t allow bears in that place, Bogart woulda loved it!

Nightie night.  Maybelle

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It’s St. Patty’s Day, don’tcha know

Well, top of the day to ya.  That’s right, it’s St. Patty’s Day here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean and green beers are a-flyin’.  Did you know they’re sayin’ about 13 million pints of Guiness are bein’ drunk today?  No wonder folks look green.  And to think … it was the colour blue that first stuck to St. Patty’s Day over 1,000 years ago.  I guess cause there was no detergent or laundry mats in those days, when St. Patty’s robes got moldy and turned green, so did hisstry.

Oh brother! I can hear Beanpole Starkman’s bi-plane hoverin’ over my cottage. What’s that, Bogart? …Bogart, my bear is growlin’ at me.  Scuse me a second. Bogart, turn on yer voice synthesizer cap sose I can hear what yer thinkin. I’ll write down what he says fer ya. Here it comes: 

Mama Maybelle…St. Patrick’s real given name was Maewyn Succat.

Bogart’s such a smarty-pants. Gets all his information from Google, whoever he is.

Well, I gotta run. Vilma Yuccch and Officer Stanley Penelope McBottom are coming over tonight and I gotta put green veggie dye in the dip, don’tcha know … M

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Maybelle’s Astro Illogical Readings, don’tcha know

Ya know, back when I was a youngin,  Auntie Fester use-ta tell me what was what by where the stars were sittin.  And I don’t mean the stars in movies and the like.  I mean the ones in the sky at Lake WhaddyathinkImean. You see, Auntie Fester was fascinatin bout astro-illology. She’d measure my head and say it was big cause I was fulla ideas, bein a Geminina and all. That’s the astro-illogical sign I was born under, don’tcha know. She even said one day Maybelle, yer gonna be talkin up a storm to folks who can’t even see ya. And Auntie Fester was right. Turns out I’m talkin to hunreds of folks on my radio show.

Whatcha probly don’t know is, Auntie Fester taught me all about astro-illology and now I’m givin readings too. Like today, bein the middle of March and all, I can surely tell ya if yer a Pie-Seeun, get ready to have the elevator in yer buildin fixed or yer pie won’t rise. That’s cause Yerannus is swirling round Murkery. On the other hand, if yer a SaggingTarius, chin-ups should do it. And if you think astro-illology is fer the birds…you’d be right. Robins and Canada geese are specially partial to readin horror scopes in papers left on park benches.

And remember … behind those rain clouds, the sun is always shinin, and if you can’t see it…you just shine in its place. Nightie night. M

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Maybelle’s bio-rhythms are somewhere south of China

Maybelle’s bio-rhythms are somewhere south of China

Beanpole aside, I know somethins up with me bein’ the biggest klutz east of Kelowna. But why all of a sudden? What in the galaxy is causin’ it? Well, I say, when in doubt, ask. Sose I go on-air and ask my listeners in Lake WhaddyathinkImean to phone in and tell me what they think. And the phones go crazy. Why the noise makes Bogart growl so loud the walls buckle. The poor bear can’t concentrate and he logs off of eHarmony!

Sybil Beaucannon-Hughes calls in and says: “Maybellene DAHLING, (she’s the only one I know calls me Maybellene) …it must be yer BIORHYTHMS!” My WHAT? “Yer biorhythms, dear.” Well, I jump off the phone and boot up my old trusty computer and type into that googlie box:     b-i-o-r-h-y-t-h-m-s. And sure enough, there it is. The answer to my clumsiness. My biorhythms are somewhere south of China. I am doomed to be a moron for the next 5 days.

Top of that, my emotional and physical rhythms are sleepin in the same bed. I’m not even Jewish and all I keep thinkin is, Oy vey! Then I call Sybil back and tell her she’s a smarty-pants cause she’s right, don’tcha know, and she tells me the Japanese keep their airline pilots grounded when their biorhythms are in the hamper. And I can’t help but think, Beanpole should move there. Least in Japan he’s got a chance to see old age.

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Maybelle’s back in Holyburton, don’tcha know

Why that airplane from La-la land had some transponder troubles or the like, plus it was like pea soup in the cabin, somethin’ about the ventilation system gettin’ a rabbit caught in the pipes.

So the gal next to me is shvitzin’ on my tamale sandwich and her husband needs mouth to mouth regurgitation, when an overhead compartment door flies open, hits the steward in the head and he falls smack in their laps spillin’ bloody mary’s all over the place.

Ya know…it made me feel right at home. For those of you who listen to my radio show, Fireside Stories from Lake WhaddyathinkImean, you know how crazy things can get when my friends drop by. Well, I’m back home now with my pet bear, Bogart, (gee I missed him) my pals, Vilma Yuccch, Officer Stanley Penelope McBottom, Beanpole Starkman, Twindle Mumbly, and of course, my engineer, Nickie B … and we got another episode airing this Saturday, March 13 at 12:40 pm EST and Sunday, March 14 at 5:00 PM EST at http://www.canoefm.com. (Just click on “click ‘n listen.”)

You kin also listen right now to a whole bunch of other episodes. Just click on “Fireside Stories from Lake WhaddyathinkImean” under Comedy Radio just to yer right. See ya. Maybelle

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Maybelle’s seein’ stars

Oh my goodyness, I was walkin with my friend Clara Bellini into a hardware store the likes of which Lake WhaddyathinkImean ain’t never seen before and who do I see walkin out? — LEONARD NEMOY, don’tcha know. That’s right. I’d know him anywhere, even without his pointy Star Trek ears.

And tonight as I was walkin into a sushi restaurant, uh-huh, (Clara insisted I get with the 21st century and eat some raw fish) I walked right past Wladyslaw Szpilman, I mean, Adrien Brody who PLAYED Szpilman in that movie called The Pianist. Why he looks 10 years younger and skinnier to boot.

What a place this is…movie stars comin and goin, goin and comin. Sure made that raw tuna go down a whole lot easier.

Nightie night. Maybelle

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Maybelle at LA’s “the Grove”

First I gotta tell ya, I walked along this street they call Melrose. Nothin rosey about it, but oh my, you shoulda seen those outfits. Up at Lake WhaddyathinkImean we wear bluejeans loose enough sose you can wear yer long johns underneath. But here in LaLa Land, they got these stretchy jeans that fit ya so tight the veins in yer legs pop. The only things I want poppin are my rice crispies.

As fer what they call “the Grove,” I’m over the moon giddy. What a place! It’s like the prettiest parts of Disneyland. A dancin’ fountain, music in the streets, sidewalk cafes, a really big movie theatre the likes of which Lake W has never seen before, and holy Toledo, a half naked BUFFED young man standin real still like a mannequin smack dab in the doorway of a clothin store, don’tcha know. Guess that’s one way to attract attention and bring young folks into the store. I couldn’t believe my eyes, sose I took me a picture.

Just wait ’til Vilma Yucch, Twindle Mumbly, and the rest of my friends in Lake WhaddyathinkImean get a load of this.

Nightie night. Maybelle

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