Category: Funny Post

Dillards One-Day Trim-A-Tree Sale—Lord Hear Our Prayer!

Dillards One-Day Trim-A-Tree Sale—Lord Hear Our Prayer!

One thing I do after Christmas every year is buy something on sale for the tree the next year. The idea is that I can continue to make the decorations more beautiful and stunning, but not have to spend a considerable amount of money doing so. Also, when I open the boxes of new ornaments the next year, I’m always surprised to see what I bought and blend them into the amalgam of ornamental gold, red, silver, and black fuss I now call my Christmas Tree.

So, a dear friend heard I was at Dillards yesterday and that they hadn’t put their Christmas items on sale yet. When she read the newspaper today, she discovered that the day everything was going on sale was NOW. So, she called me. I immediately hopped the red-eye to the nearest Dillards. This was at 2 pm and I had already finished my taxes for the year. (It’s January 1st and, yes, I’m Johnny on the Spot.)

As big as that parking lot is at Dillards, I spent almost 30 minutes trying to find a parking space. At that moment, I thought, is it even worth it to go in? Everything is probably gone. But, I persevered until someone left a space open. I ventured into the cyclone-ravaged store we will now refer to as Dillastrous.

Oh my God! I have never seen so many people picking and plundering ornaments and fixtures. The lines were 5-10 people long. The sales people were anxious and bitter. And there just wasn’t any fun in getting the three things I happened to salvage from a box a lady was returning. I mean beating people up to get a sale just isn’t what it used to be.

Bo Sebastian, Author

Bo Sebastian, Author

My dearest friends and family buy me gift cards because they know that one of my favorite things to do is find an incredible sale. But, I’ll tell you now, that the sales I enjoy the most, are the ones I find when no one else is looking. When I wake up early on a Monday morning, my day off, and get to the mall when the prices are just being slashed, and no one has been told. It’s not a big sale. It’s a few items that are getting marked way down to go quickly. That’s my idea of a find.

This standing in line with 3000 people up your ass trying to get the same ornament you are is for the birds. I am swearing off the after-Christmas rush forever. Remind me of this next year — Pahlease.

And so it is.

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Bo Sebastian is a Hypnotherapist and Life & Health Coach, available for private sessions to QUIT SMOKING, Lose Weight, New Lap-Band Hypnosis for Weight Loss, CHANGE YOUR MIND, CHANGE YOUR LIFE! at 615-400-2334 or

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A Surprise in the Night

A Surprise in the Night

I was a preacher in NYC. The congregation was rallying around a woman who decided to take care of her father while he was dying of the ferocious pancreatic cancer. Congregants were taking turns caring for her father, so she could get some sleep at night. A few days before his death, I took the late evening shift.

The father was very untrusting and loved his daughter immensely, it was clear. Before she went to bed the daughter told me, if I needed anything just call her. She’d be right by my side. It was very late. She and her husband looked so exhausted they could pass out on their feet. I bid them good night and proceeded to pray by the side of the ailing 88-year-old man.

He was lucid, but having bouts of paranoia and delusion. We talked a bit. I prayed some more. One hour went by. I felt myself falling asleep, which promised myself I wouldn’t do. This was an all night vigil. He seemed to moaned a lot, so it was like an alarm clock for me when I began to doze. I felt so badly for the man. At about the second hour, he had to urinate. I had never helped another person pee into a bedpan before, especially someone in extreme pain.

When we got to the part where I had to touch him to get it in the hole, he looked at me with disdain and cried out for his daughter. My hand flinched away. “It’s okay. I can help you,” I whispered. “Don’t be afraid.”

Yet, he shook his head and cried out his daughters name into the night. I hoped she would hear and come running to my side, but she didn’t. I was so afraid he was going to urinate all over the bed. In a sudden panic, I just decided to man up and wake her. I couldn’t really be all I thought I could be as a preacher and a friend, in her hour of need.

So, I’m thinking. Why wake them both. I’ll quietly go into their bedroom, wake her gently. She’ll know that her father needs her. So, I gently open the door without a creak, tiptoe into the bedroom and walk toward the bed.

To my surprise I see her husband’s naked butt staring at me, and his head where no one goes unless he’s searching for a midnight snack.

I stood there stunned. What? How could this be? They went to bed like two hours ago. They were exhausted. Her father’s dying. And yet, in the darkness I hear a low voice, “Bro, you could’ve knocked.”

“Your father needs you,” I stated and ran from the room, sweating, like a thieve fleeing from the crime scene.

Oh, Lord, what do I do?

Fortunately, the father’s health took precedence, and no words were ever spoken about it again. Until now!

Okay, I was celibate then, but still gay. It was the most frightening thing I had ever seen in my life. I may never get over it. Someone needs to give me hypnosis to help me with this PTSD.

Still, when I walk into a dark room, even if it’s my own, I knock.

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M-Rock Obama

MRock Obama

On the way home from listening to a Brazilian rhythmic feast at the Nashville Jazz workshop, my mother told me she was looking forward to listening to “Rock Obamo’s” speech tonight.

I hadn’t realized until that moment that she might not really know the president’s name, so I asked. What do you think the president’s name is?

She replied, “Is it Mrock Obamo?”

We both started to laugh, because she knew she was totally off base. I had tears in my eyes as I was trying to coach her to say Barack Obama, one syllable at a time. I heard versions like Bnock Allama, Brack Obana, Bnack Oshasha… And the story goes on.

By the time we got home, my eyes were filled with tears from laughing so hard. I’m sure she was just trying to make me laugh at the risk of making herself sound less educated, but our family knows how to laugh. And that we did.

When I was a child about eight years old, my mother had left my father hoping to get custody of all six children. At that time, my dad had way too many friends in high places, and she never saw us for six years. What happened was a very angry alcoholic father got total possession of six very frightened young hearts.

One night after we were to have cleaned up the kitchen according to my father’s strict standards, he took his arm like Jesus turning over tables in the Holy of Holies and broke every dish and glass in the house. When he was finished, he called everyone into the living room to a family meeting.

I remember sitting between two of my older brothers and sisters quivering. What would he do next? Who would comfort me after all this? He talked for an hour about respect and what he expected of all of us, but I don’t remember what he said. Just the anger.

The next night he was away. All of us kids and a few neighbors played a game we called “laugh time.” One person would get up and try to make the rest of the kids laugh. If you laughed, you would have to be the next to be the comedian.

We knew, even as children, that to get through the hardest times of our lives, we would need laughter and togetherness to forge ahead psychologically. Tonight, my mother reminded me of that gift I learned so long ago. Laughter is the best medicine.

I had a friend who fell off of a ladder and into his basement stairwell a year ago. He broke his leg backward and had to crawl in agonizing pain to get his cell phone to call for help. That night I went to visit him in the hospital after he had his surgery. The entire time all we did was laugh. He took what was most likely the most painful moment of his life and found something incredibly funny about it and focused on that. He had me in tears laughing. I’ll never forget his kind of courage and moxie.

Everything in life can be looked at from a different point of view. But you can’t be in your problem to see other points of view. You have to come outside yourself and be what I call the “omniscient observer.” When you learn this spiritual device, you can see from all sides. This gives us compassion, love and grace, even when we are the receivers of terrible acts.

You know I love you when I say this: If you want to heal, you have got to get outside of yourself and your situation and your issues long enough to observe your humanness (without condemnation) as you fit into the entire paradigm of life.

What can you learn? How can you become stronger? What is the next step forward, not backward? What did this situation do to make you a better person? Can what you learned help someone else in a similar situation?

These are the questions we should be asking ourselves, instead of basking in years of anger and hate and resentment, which only leads to sickness and death.

Learn to love the now, my friends. It’s all we have.

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