h is for … hokey pokey

Day 23:365 Gratitude Challenge and April 9th A to Z Challenge

hokey-pokey.jpgToday I am grateful for the hokey pokey because, really, that’s what it’s all about. Plus I figured that everyone needed a nice song stuck in their head today especially since it has been stuck in mine since yesterday. I like to share all my gratitude with you because you are my peeps and that is what we as peeps do; we share. There is no need to thank me because that is not why I am doing these sharing things. No sirreeeee, I am not looking to be showered with your thanks for sharing such a good deed. Just knowing that you are happily bopping about wherever you are while going about your day is thanks enough for me. For those of you insisting on thanking me, well, you are indeed very welcome.

Here are the lyrics just in case you have forgotten any or have forgotten the order that they go in: Lyrics

Since I know that you are all sitting on the edges of your seats wanting to know more about the hokey pokey, here are some interesting facts for you to ponder:

  • The hokey pokey is a participation dance known as the ‘hokey cokey’ in the UK, ‘hokey tokey’ in New Zealand, and ‘hokey pokey’ in Canada, US, Ireland, Australia, the Caribbean and Mexico.
  • There is no one definitive answer to where the hokey pokey derives from but there are some theories about it. They are as follows:
  • It originates in a British dance as early as 1826.
  • There are those who insist the song originated in the UK with Scottish Puritans as an anti-Catholic taunt against the Catholic belief that the bread and wine turn into the body and blood of Christ during the Mass. Hokey cokey is a derivative of ‘hocus pocus’ meaning trickery which is how the Puritans viewed the Catholic doctrine.
  • In 1857, two sisters from Canterbury, England were visiting Bridgewater, NH and brought the song and its gestures with them.
  • In 1940, a Canadian officer suggested writing an action party song to bandleader Al Tabor. “The Hokey Pokey” was supposedly in homage to a ice cream vendor from Tabor’s childhood who would call out “hokey pokey penny a lumb. Have a lick and make you jump.”
  • In 1944, two musicians from Pennsylvania (Robert Degan and Joe Brier) made a record of a song called “The Hokey Pokey Dance” but it is still not the version that we shake it all about today.
  • In 1949, Charles Mack, Taft Baker and Larry Laprise (The Ram Trio) made their own version of the song, which is closer to the version we all know and love today.

In Memoriam

Here is my take on the Hokey Pokey:

  • Since I love ice cream, I am going to put my right hand up and vote for the Hokey Pokey version that is in homage to the ice cream vendor. Definitely a win/win situation for me. Chocolate is my favourite in case you wanted to know.
  • It evokes memories of my and my children’s childhood and the giggles that ensued while trying to shake it all about.

    You are so doing the hokey pokey, MC, AND you are going to like it!
  • If I was co-ordinated enough, I could use the gestures and movements as an exercise program. Think about it. Shaking it all about would be a good form of exercise and would perhaps promote some weight loss which would make me even more grateful for the hockey pokey. Since I am certain that no one would want to see me shaking me arse about, I give you my word that I will perform the dance in private and without drinking any alcohol what.so.ever.

I  think that I would change up the lyrics a little bit in order to
target specific areas of my body that need firming and toning.
My version would go like this:

I put my right boob in
I put my right boob out
I put my right boob in
And I flap it all about

And I do the hokey pokey
And I turn myself around
That’s what it’s all about

I put my left boob in
I put my left boob out
I put my left boob in
And I flap it all about

And I do the hokey pokey
And I turn myself around
That’s what it’s all about

I put my muffin top in
I put my muffin top out
I put my muffin top in
And I roll it all about

And I do the hokey pokey
And I turn myself around
That’s what it’s all about

I put my butt cheeks in
I put my butt cheeks out
I put my butt cheeks in
And may be let out a fart

And I do the hokey pokey
And I turn myself around
That’s what it’s all about

Not bad, eh? Feel free to use these awesome lyrics any time you would like especially if you, too, would like to work on the same areas. It is all about that sharing I was talking about at the beginning on this post. You could also create your own lyrics and share them with me. See? Sharing is caring. While I had also considered adding a verse for each flabby arm, I think that I will work on that another day. Having all these visuals of my body shaking all about is making me very tired not to mention nauseous. Maybe a bowl of chocolate ice cream would help.

do it with me


I also thought I would share with you that I did go to a hokey pokey clinic about twenty years ago only it was called ‘pyschotherapy’ something or other. The hokey pokey clinic name would have been soooooooo much better but, on the bright side, I did turn my life around. So, you see, there is always hope. If I can do it, any one can.

Hokey pokey: 1
Talent: 0


g is for … the google

Day 22:365 Gratitude Challenge and April 8th A to Z Challenge

201504_1221_aachg_smToday I am grateful for Google or as my uncle would say, The Google. The Google, as a search engine tool, is multifunctional. It can be an informant, an entertainer, a translator, a tutor for any subject immaginable, a teacher, a news reporter, a tour guide, a doctor, a calendar, a musician, a veterinarian, a big time waster, and so much more. I use The Google almost every day to look up something whether it be a recipe or a word definition, a telephone number, an address, a website, some news, a blog post, a meme, a quotation, and to procrastinate from cleaning the house, etc. Hell, I even used it to try and find something that would start with the letter G for this challenge. I was trying to be so creative that I missed the obvious “G” staring back at me from the blank page. That is when Sauerkraut said, “How about Google?” And, so, The Google it is.

Since I find The Google incredibly entertaining, I decided to try something different for this post. Rather than writing a bunch of words explaining why I am grateful for The Google, I thought I would let The Google’s memes and quotations do all the explaining for me (plus I am just too flippin’ exhausted to even form a complete and logical sentence after a week long bout with the flu).

I am grateful for The Google because:

  • I can travel anywhere in the world without ever leaving the house AND I do not need to get out of my pyjamas, have a shower, pack a suitcase or have a passport to do so.


  • I can learn more about the medical conditions that I have diagnosed myself with.


  • I can find directions to my friend’s new house.


  • I can find out about the things I hate happening in my life such as why that tiger is still hiding out in my bathroom.


  • I can pretend that I am searching for something brilliant when my 75 year old mother comes to visit and I do not want her knowing what it is that I am really looking at. You know, like my bank balance (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).


  • I can search for suggestions about what to do with the dead body of he who shall not be named.

dead body

  • I can ask The Google any obvious question I want to and never have to feel stupid for asking it. For example, ‘why hasn’t my brother had his first period yet?” would be really stupid because I do not have a brother.


stupid question

  • I can be snarky with The Google and it never gets angry with me.


  • I can be lazy and The Google will not care.

Lazy Rule

  • I can use The Google to back up any point I am trying to make.

because google said so

And that, my friends, is why I am grateful for The Google.

My argument: 1

Your argument: 0



f is for … flatulence

Day 21:365 Grateful Challenge and April 7th A to Z Challenge

~ Warning: please do not have any liquid or food in your mouth while reading this. I cannot be held responsible for one more ruined keyboard due to drink/food spitting. You know who you are. ~

Today I am grateful for flatulence. That’s right, flatulence. There is a bit of irony to this bold gratitude statement of mine especially given the week I have just had. Prior to fart zonestarting the A to Z Challenge, I had jokingly said to my hubby that I was going to write about ‘f is for flatulence’. Sauerkraut smiled and said, “oh, that’ll be a good one” but neither of us really thought I would. Until this week, that is. On Monday, a horrible flu decided to lambaste me, probably in retaliation for my joking about flatulence only one week prior. So, to be on the safe side, I decided to write about how grateful I am for flatulence just in case the flu fairy decided to hit me with an apocolyptic version of another flu for not acknowledging it (clear as mud, right?). I mean, I still have 20 more letters to write about in the A to Z Challenge; I cannot afford to be sidelined by noxious gases any longer.

We all know what flatulence is; it is wind, it is farting, it is an assflapper, a back draft, it is colon bowlin’, a fanny beep, a panty burp, a raspberry, a ripper, a squeaker, a taint tickle, a whopper or whatever word you may use to call it. We also all understand that flatulence ishero-today-im-channelling-kurt-vonnegut a natural occurrence in the body and that it is quite often a sign of good health. So why, then, does flatulence get such an embarassingly bad ripper rap? After all, it is one of the things that we all have in common; farting is a universal experience which knows no borders. Whether you are rich/poor, big/small, happy/sad, Donald Trump/Ted Cruz, Canuckleheads/Gretzkynappers (yes, we are still bitter about that), we are all bound together by the fact that each and every one of us has tooted our own horn on at least one occasion. By the way, if that is all you have ever let rip, I would suggest a trip to your doctor because something is indeed wrong with you; you are just one big bubbling cesspool of gases away from totally combusting. Ppppffffffftttttt!

So why the hell am I writing about it then if we all know we that we putt-putt and that rump rippers are good for us?  Well, I think it is because everyone loves a good fart story, everyone has had a embarassing fart story, and, if you say that you do not, well, then, I would have to say that you are indeed lying. Look, if I can write about log clogging a toilet, it means that I am willing to put myself out there to make you feel at ease with your embarassment(s) as well as letting you know that you are not alone. Farting is as natural as breathing. It is better out than in. It is the yin to your yang. It is the wind beneath your underwear. Well, you get my whiff drift.


Sauerkraut (now there’s a recipe for disaster) and I were just dating. You know that magical time in a relationship? You are trying to get to know one another and want only your best qualities showing. The last thing you want to do is fart in front of this potential life partner. We had be driving for a long time and I could feel the toxic gases brewing inside of me. Not wanting to release the gases to the masses, I decided to hold on for dear life and wait until we came to our next stop. I was hoping that I could get out and let polly out of jail by walking it off. We live in the country so next stops can sometimes be few and far between. While I cannot remember the exact reason we stopped, Sauerkraut got out of the car to check on something (or to pee OR maybe he needed to let paul out of jail – I don’t know) but I thought that he would be gone for a bit. I let go one of those silent deadly killers that damn near split the seam of my jeans. What a friggin mistake! I would have been better to suffer in silence for the next kazillion hours than unleash that beast of a breath cutter.

Panic set in. What the hell do I do now? I rolled down the window and started flailing about, hands and arms flapping like a pair of bird wings trying to take flight. Get out you stench of death! Get out! Get out before Sir Sauerkraut comes back!

But noooooooooooo. Sauerkraut comes back before I can even warn the poor fella. He gaggingjumps in the car all happy like and then proceeds to gag. And I mean GAG. The green cloud of toxic fumes were just too much for the ole boy to handle. He was, at least, of enough sound mind to start the car, roll down the windows, put the car in drive, and then put the pedal to the metal. The putrid smell was not long getting out of the car then, especially when you are driving like a bat out of hell or like something out Fast and Furious.

No matter how many times you apologize and say how sorry you are for nearly making your date of a mere three months almost pass out, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that can make up for that. There was no dog in the car that I could blame it on nor was there any other passenger to point the finger at (which is probably a good thing because I could easily have been charged with assault for that bomb). I had to take full ownership of it. Sauerkraut, being the true gentleman that he is (keep in mind that he is women dont fartsomeone who was brought up believing that ladies did not fart), kept telling me “not to worry about it” and to “just forget about it”, but, hey, mortification at the level takes a good nineteen years just to be able to write and laugh about it.

I am sure that you can imagine my relief at 1) getting that smell out of the car, and 2) getting that insane amout of methane gas out of my arse, and 3) that Sauerkraut stuck around after that even though my hot wind destroyed his belief that proper ladies do not expel hissers. Here we are almost twenty years later and this will be the first time that either of us has mentioned the fart that almost changed my destiny (at least I hope we will after this post arrives in his inbox). You just gotta have a lot of respect for a guy that sticks it out with a beast like me, choosing to overlook my human hydrogen bomb, and who I know will still say “don’t worry about it” after all these years. Oh, how I do love this man of mine.

Now it is your turn to let loose an embarassing fizzler story. Please don’t make me stand in front of the rest of the class alone.

Butt sneeze: 1

Humility: 0


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