So, my beloved hubby, who is an infrequent visitor to my blog, popped in this morning and saw my previous post about stuff. He was surprised I hadn't linked to the George Carlin routine about stuff, and I told him I'd utterly forgotten the routine (sorry, George), so he pulled it up on Youtube and we watched it. After laughing at it all over again, I decided I'd take his suggestion and post it here for y'all to enjoy, too (language warning as this exceeds my usual G/PG rating):
Showing posts with label jokes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jokes. Show all posts
Friday, January 30, 2009
Monday, November 24, 2008
Elf Yourself!
Here's one way to beat a bad case of the Mondays......
Ho, ho, ho! Or rather, hee, hee, hee!
Send your own ElfYourself eCards
Ho, ho, ho! Or rather, hee, hee, hee!
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Something silly for a Saturday
Hubby was surfing the interwebz last night and came up with a bunch of random things that were totally cracking us up. Some were sites like Fail Blog and some, like the one I've posted here, were on Youtube. As a public service, I've saved you hours of time you could otherwise have wasted clicking and clicking and clicking through Youtube searching for hidden gems like this video by sharing this clip with you here and now. You're welcome.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
In case I need some character witnesses,
you guys will all vouch for me, right? 'Cause I swear I was TOTALLY joking when I was checking out at Lowe's earlier this afternoon, acquiring supplies for the Fall Fun House at Kiddo's elementary school, of which I am in charge. By supplies, I mean eight, count 'em, EIGHT, rolls of duct tape. Nothing else. (This was per the P.E. teacher's request; the FFH is held in her gym and apparently nothing short of duct tape will stick to the walls.)
As I was setting roll after roll of duct tape on the counter, the cashier's eyes were growing wider and wider and her carefully-plucked-to-one-hair-thickness eyebrows were going further and further up her forehead. So, I grinned, gave her a "what can ya do?" shrug, and said "Well, you know, the time-outs just aren't working, and I've got to do something to get my kid to behave..."
I swear to you, she believed me. She looked positively panic-stricken and utterly horrified, and her eyes began darting about, as if to flag a passing CSM on the down-low to call 911 or CPS or something. Even when I explained the true purpose of my duct tape extravaganza and produced the PTA's tax-exempt certificate to back up my story and purchase, she still seemed quite suspicious. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she copied down my license plate number off the parking lot surveillance cameras and calls me in. So, like I said, if I get hauled off for allegedly duct-taping my child into her room, you guys have my back, right? Right?
Honestly, I didn't think it was that outrageous a remark to make, or I wouldn't have made it. When I related this anecdote to Hubby afterwards, he said "That was pretty ballsy of you to say" and I was a little "Huh?" because, you know, Hubby knows me and my sense of humor and I really didn't think it was that bad. I mean, this is me, the one who, with Hubby, told the social worker with a straight face that our discipline plan was to lock our children in the basement and if that didn't work, then we'd go to the beating with pointy sticks during our adoption home study interview. She knew we were kidding... Maybe it was my hair. It's larger than usual today, thanks to the weather and the wind, so it was looking a wee bit more "mad scientist" than usual...
(Oh and PS - Lowe's was my last stop for the FFH shopping spree. I hit the mega-jackpot at Michael's, with ka-razy sales on their fall decor. I felt like I was on Supermarket Sweep or something, with the amount of stuff I was cramming into my cart. It was all 70% off or better, so WOO-HOO!! That left me enough money - after picking up the duct tape, of course - that I'll be able to feed our volunteers donut holes and possibly even cider on Thursday and Friday. Woo!)
In other news, the child for whom multiple rolls of duct tape are required if you believe me the way that poor, teenaged cashier did brought home her school pictures today. Despite the fear that HappyHourSue struck into my heart with this tale of Picture Day, Kiddo's picture is pretty darn cute. So cute that I'm mightily tempted to post it here on my blog for the world to see. I'm just a little paranoid about the pervy internet weirdos... (I seriously get some mighty weird Google search hits - folks that have NO business poking about my poor, little blog ramblings!) I'm considering posting it.... we'll see. But at any rate, like I told Sue in the comments section of her blog (which, btw, if you haven't checked it out, you must - she is hilarious despite her questionable cougar crush on various Jonas Brothers), my theory of School Photo Karma turned out to be correct. Because I myself never took a cute school photo in my life (they were Fugly with a capital F - I mean, I've never been pretty, but the school pictures were an extra level of YIKES!), Kiddo is apparently going to be blessed with decent pics herself now. (This year's kindy photo is only her second; last year's preschool picture was also cute.) So, whew on that and if you're on the family-n-friends list, be looking for a wallet sized beauty to be heading your way shortly...
As I was setting roll after roll of duct tape on the counter, the cashier's eyes were growing wider and wider and her carefully-plucked-to-one-hair-thickness eyebrows were going further and further up her forehead. So, I grinned, gave her a "what can ya do?" shrug, and said "Well, you know, the time-outs just aren't working, and I've got to do something to get my kid to behave..."
I swear to you, she believed me. She looked positively panic-stricken and utterly horrified, and her eyes began darting about, as if to flag a passing CSM on the down-low to call 911 or CPS or something. Even when I explained the true purpose of my duct tape extravaganza and produced the PTA's tax-exempt certificate to back up my story and purchase, she still seemed quite suspicious. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she copied down my license plate number off the parking lot surveillance cameras and calls me in. So, like I said, if I get hauled off for allegedly duct-taping my child into her room, you guys have my back, right? Right?
Honestly, I didn't think it was that outrageous a remark to make, or I wouldn't have made it. When I related this anecdote to Hubby afterwards, he said "That was pretty ballsy of you to say" and I was a little "Huh?" because, you know, Hubby knows me and my sense of humor and I really didn't think it was that bad. I mean, this is me, the one who, with Hubby, told the social worker with a straight face that our discipline plan was to lock our children in the basement and if that didn't work, then we'd go to the beating with pointy sticks during our adoption home study interview. She knew we were kidding... Maybe it was my hair. It's larger than usual today, thanks to the weather and the wind, so it was looking a wee bit more "mad scientist" than usual...
(Oh and PS - Lowe's was my last stop for the FFH shopping spree. I hit the mega-jackpot at Michael's, with ka-razy sales on their fall decor. I felt like I was on Supermarket Sweep or something, with the amount of stuff I was cramming into my cart. It was all 70% off or better, so WOO-HOO!! That left me enough money - after picking up the duct tape, of course - that I'll be able to feed our volunteers donut holes and possibly even cider on Thursday and Friday. Woo!)
In other news, the child for whom multiple rolls of duct tape are required if you believe me the way that poor, teenaged cashier did brought home her school pictures today. Despite the fear that HappyHourSue struck into my heart with this tale of Picture Day, Kiddo's picture is pretty darn cute. So cute that I'm mightily tempted to post it here on my blog for the world to see. I'm just a little paranoid about the pervy internet weirdos... (I seriously get some mighty weird Google search hits - folks that have NO business poking about my poor, little blog ramblings!) I'm considering posting it.... we'll see. But at any rate, like I told Sue in the comments section of her blog (which, btw, if you haven't checked it out, you must - she is hilarious despite her questionable cougar crush on various Jonas Brothers), my theory of School Photo Karma turned out to be correct. Because I myself never took a cute school photo in my life (they were Fugly with a capital F - I mean, I've never been pretty, but the school pictures were an extra level of YIKES!), Kiddo is apparently going to be blessed with decent pics herself now. (This year's kindy photo is only her second; last year's preschool picture was also cute.) So, whew on that and if you're on the family-n-friends list, be looking for a wallet sized beauty to be heading your way shortly...
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Rolling...
This is hilarious. The creator of this clip clearly had a lot of time on his hands, but still, genius, pure genius. (Obama '08!)
If you prefer your Rickroll a little less politically based, this one's pretty dang funny, too:
(The YouTube link title for this one says "Hilarious Muppet Bloopers!" and then, BAM - Rickroll, Beaker-style!)
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
April Fools' Day
My dad is a master jokester. Seriously, I could go on for pages about the various jokes and pranks he pulled. One that comes to mind every April 1st, however, is the one I'm going to relate now. It was the best April Fools' joke I've ever had pulled on me personally, and one of the best I've ever heard of anywhere else.
It was the year that I was 13 years old. Dad hadn't tried anything yet all day, which was unusual because he was typically good for at least a mini-prank before we left for school. By evening, we'd mostly forgotten about April Fools' and were going through the motions of a quite mundane day. Mom and Dad decided that we'd get pizza for dinner, which was a huge treat back then. Any take-out food was rare in our house, and certainly something to be celebrated. Mom called in the order to our local pizzeria (which we supplied with tomatoes for a few summers when Mom and Dad's gardening got way out of hand and we had an entire, large plot dedicated to tomatoes and cucumbers) and after the 20 minutes were up, Dad headed out to get the 'za. As he pulled back up our very long driveway, he was honking the horn of the truck. This wasn't an entirely unusual occurrence, as we had all manner of cats and dogs as well as a goat that used to let herself out of the barn whenever she darn well pleased, and various combinations of these critters would often hang out in the middle of the driveway, blocking traffic from going any further. (I once, in later years, came with an inch of pancaking that dang goat as we played Chicken with her goaty, swaybacked, saggy body and my beloved Oldsmobile Delta 88. I kept creeping forward, inch by inch, as she stood firm, bleating and spitting at my car. Oh, Skeeter...) The honking did serve to draw our attention to the kitchen door, though, so my sisters, mother and I were all gathered in the kitchen as Dad came in bearing three pizza boxes aloft.
Now, the fact that he had THREE pizza boxes should've tipped us off, as we normally only ever ordered one or at the most two pies. Maybe my mom realized something was up, but before any of us had time to process anything, BAMMO! Dad tripped on the doorstep and landed smack dab on his face and on the pizza boxes, now instantly crushed beneath his chest. There was one eternal second of horrified silence, then the wail went up: "OUR PIZZAAAAAAAAA!" Our faces fell as low as Dad, prone on the floor, pizza boxes squished flat as could be. I think my mom may've asked whether he was okay, but for us girls, it was all about the food. That made the moment even sweeter for Dad, as he groaned and slooooowly got up, shaking his head and saying "well, I guess there won't be any pizza for dinner tonight after all." I believe at least one of us kids was in tears at this point, and we were all equally devastated at the thought of no delicious, cheesy pizza - any alternative menu just couldn't be as tasty and might well include *shudder* lamb, as we had a freezer full of previous barn occupants ever at the ready. We begged him to check and see if there was any slice left that could be salvaged, when he sprang it on us - "APRIL FOOLS'!!!!!!" He opened the boxes to show us that they were empty, while the real pizza was waiting out in the truck. He'd convinced Phil, the pizzeria owner, to give him a few empty boxes so he could prank us, and oh yeah, he got us good that year.
The kiddo is a little on the young side for April Fooling, but that isn't going to stop me from trying to come up with something we can do to Daddy when he gets home from work tonight. I have a few ideas, all of which I think would make Grandpa proud. Shhhh, don't tell him we're plotting, and happy April Fools' Day!
It was the year that I was 13 years old. Dad hadn't tried anything yet all day, which was unusual because he was typically good for at least a mini-prank before we left for school. By evening, we'd mostly forgotten about April Fools' and were going through the motions of a quite mundane day. Mom and Dad decided that we'd get pizza for dinner, which was a huge treat back then. Any take-out food was rare in our house, and certainly something to be celebrated. Mom called in the order to our local pizzeria (which we supplied with tomatoes for a few summers when Mom and Dad's gardening got way out of hand and we had an entire, large plot dedicated to tomatoes and cucumbers) and after the 20 minutes were up, Dad headed out to get the 'za. As he pulled back up our very long driveway, he was honking the horn of the truck. This wasn't an entirely unusual occurrence, as we had all manner of cats and dogs as well as a goat that used to let herself out of the barn whenever she darn well pleased, and various combinations of these critters would often hang out in the middle of the driveway, blocking traffic from going any further. (I once, in later years, came with an inch of pancaking that dang goat as we played Chicken with her goaty, swaybacked, saggy body and my beloved Oldsmobile Delta 88. I kept creeping forward, inch by inch, as she stood firm, bleating and spitting at my car. Oh, Skeeter...) The honking did serve to draw our attention to the kitchen door, though, so my sisters, mother and I were all gathered in the kitchen as Dad came in bearing three pizza boxes aloft.
Now, the fact that he had THREE pizza boxes should've tipped us off, as we normally only ever ordered one or at the most two pies. Maybe my mom realized something was up, but before any of us had time to process anything, BAMMO! Dad tripped on the doorstep and landed smack dab on his face and on the pizza boxes, now instantly crushed beneath his chest. There was one eternal second of horrified silence, then the wail went up: "OUR PIZZAAAAAAAAA!" Our faces fell as low as Dad, prone on the floor, pizza boxes squished flat as could be. I think my mom may've asked whether he was okay, but for us girls, it was all about the food. That made the moment even sweeter for Dad, as he groaned and slooooowly got up, shaking his head and saying "well, I guess there won't be any pizza for dinner tonight after all." I believe at least one of us kids was in tears at this point, and we were all equally devastated at the thought of no delicious, cheesy pizza - any alternative menu just couldn't be as tasty and might well include *shudder* lamb, as we had a freezer full of previous barn occupants ever at the ready. We begged him to check and see if there was any slice left that could be salvaged, when he sprang it on us - "APRIL FOOLS'!!!!!!" He opened the boxes to show us that they were empty, while the real pizza was waiting out in the truck. He'd convinced Phil, the pizzeria owner, to give him a few empty boxes so he could prank us, and oh yeah, he got us good that year.
The kiddo is a little on the young side for April Fooling, but that isn't going to stop me from trying to come up with something we can do to Daddy when he gets home from work tonight. I have a few ideas, all of which I think would make Grandpa proud. Shhhh, don't tell him we're plotting, and happy April Fools' Day!
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