David’s Journal

So in Georgia, days before the wedding, some bride disappears, and the wedding guests go looking for her.

That’s a sight. Hundreds family members swarming about the small town, looking under rocks and behind trees. “Bride??!! Bride!!?? Where are you, Bride?”

A bride-turned-wife I happen to live with was told about this. She knows a thing or two about actually being a bride.

Said she, “Maybe she wanted to disappear.”

Sure enough, four days later…

…she reappears in Albuquerque, “distressed, out of cash and in disguise,” according to the Associated Press. After making up some story about being abducted, she finally admits to running away.

The bride has “some issues the family was not aware of. We’re looking forward to loving her and talking to her about these issues,” an uncle said the press.

“Weddings are terrible stresses on people,” an expert pointed out. “They really try people’s relationships, especially when they’re one of these big productions.” There were reportedly 600 guests, 14 bridesmaids and 14 groomsmen.

No charges have been filed.

Perhaps proving that my sense of humor is poor, I did a Google search for a joke I make every time I drive to San Francisco.

“Where’s Waldo Tunnel?” I ask, as we ascend the hill, just before we turn the curve— and then, behold: Waldo Tunnel.

Susie groans.

A recent Google search revealed that no one has yet to immortalize my bad joke in the form of a webpage. Welcome, immortality: this is the first web page to ask my dumb question: Where’s Waldo Tunnel?

It’s just north of the Golden Gate Bridge, south of Sausalito, on Highway 101.

Here it is:

(although this picture, borrowed from the web, shows the tunnel heading north. I always make the joke heading south.)

My vast readership has complained that I haven’t been updating enough. I think she is bored at work.

She suggested a topic for me to mock. But rather than respond to my mother-in-law’s prompt (it involves dogs and seders, I think), I will instead make fun of the state of Wisconsin, a responsibility I have been neglecting lately.

Edith Manke received the following letter from the Department of Health and Family Services notifying her that her eligibility for prescription drug coverage through the SeniorCare program would end on March 31:

Dear Edith A. Manke

Your eligibility [for SeniorCare] is ending because: This individual has died.

It’s true. Poor Mrs. Manke died on November 5th.

“Our apologies go out to this family and any others that received this letter,” Wisconsin declared. By “any others,” she means the families of at least 1,500 other deceased Cheddarheads.

“I can just hear her laughing in heaven now, saying, ‘How stupid!’ ” the daughter laughed.

On a more serious note, she added, “If it had come a couple of months earlier, it might have hit me when I was in a sorrowful mood.”