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Things that make you laugh...

read this somewhere:

I cried for 10 minutes straight when I found out Jodie Foster was a feminist.

Well, imagine how John Hinckley felt when he found out she was a dyke.
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Underseer said:
A chess set made up entirely of vibrators:

http://www.fastcodesign.com/1662399/vibrator-chess-set-makes-you-want-to-bop-the-bishop

KIKI_chess%20set%202.jpg
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Well that's the stupidest idea for a chess set ever.


Both sets of pieces are black.

That is all.

 
The National Enquirer once had a story about a brain transplant. In that story, they referred to the guy who lived (that is, the guy whose brain survived and whose body was thrown away) as the "donor."

That's the only time I bought a National Enquirer.
 
Many years ago, my mother was a junior magistrate in the UK, during a period of racial tension and rioting.

The court was asked to consider an application for a search warrant for premises at which an arrestee had indicated explosives might be kept. The arrested man's written statement was presented to the court; it was a long, rambling document in which the accused tried to excuse his crimes by claiming to be a freedom fighter (likening himself to Malcolm X), and then went on to outline a sketchy manifesto condemning police brutality against the Afro-Caribbean community, before realising that he was in serious trouble, and ratting on his mates who were, allegedly, constructing a bomb.

After several minutes spent reading this long-winded statement, the senior magistrate turned to the police officer making the application, and said "This all seems to be sufficient for the granting of a warrant; But tell me, exactly who is this 'Malcolm the Tenth' to whom he refers?".
 
I was customer's home today doing some work on his bedroom window. I warned him that I would be working on it *before beginning. He responded by saying he would be sure to not be naked in front of the window.

I told him to not worry about it because we are insured.

Four of us had a good laugh.
 
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Wiploc said:
We get some strange questions over at Quora. I like this one:



The first answer begins like this:

For matters of import like this, I turn to Sun Tsu's Art of War.
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Who knows? You may be deceiving me, but you're a genius.
 
A ringer in the beautiful woman thread reminded me of my first porn locker.
When i reported to my first command, they told me i had access to the division porn locker. And the bastards had put some Italian porn on top.
It was a magazine with one woman in it. She started out in vintage clothes, rather ornate, a zillion layers. Each time you turned the page, she took something off. So i'm turning, turning, the guys watching closely. A statuesque brunette, she shows the reader her legs, then her back, her boobs, gets down to her panties and on the last page shoves the panties down to show this enormous erection. Rather disappointing.
I went ew, ew, icky, yuck, like i was supposed to. Everyone laughed... Then i turned back a page.
"We should rip the last page out," i said. "Because up to here, it's porn."
"That's a guy!" they protested.
"But if you don't know that, just look at the size of her tits!"

....and they all went ew, ew, icky, yuck.....
 
You know how little kids get hurt, and there's a pause while they try to figure out just how hurt they are, and they take in a deep breath, and the longer they take to breathe in, the worse it's going to be when it comes back out?
My Tallest son thinks that's how grownups work.

I yell. Just a bit. I get angry, i yell, then it's over.

Well, Tallest is trying to get more hours in the cockpit with his learner's permit, then take the driving test.
On the trip home, i yelled when he didn't check traffic sufficiently before turning.
I yelled when he wasn't paying attention to his speed.
I yelled when he very nearly sideswiped a police car. I don't know how we didn't get pulled over.
We get to the post office and he went to brake, but he forgot to move his foot from the gas to the brake. It's an accident, it happens to all of us, no malicious intent. We just surged and instead of stopping, we hit the aluminum bumper rail at about 5 mph.

I didn't yell.

I asked if he was okay, we got the car into park and the engine off. I checked. There's a scratch on the bumper, which is pretty much lost in a much bigger scratch from something my wife did to the car. The frame for the front license plate is pretty much toast. That's okay, it's why i'm insured. Nothing else done to the car and nothing at all done to the rail.

I got the mail. Kid's a little wigged out, so i drive home. He'll be back behind the wheel tomorrow.

No major damage, it's an accident, he wasn't doing anything stupid that led to the accident, i'm not going to yell at him. There's nothing to correct.

Unfortunately, i did not EXPLAIN why i wasn't yelling.

Got home, left him to watch TV for a while, started dinner.

The wife found him having an anxiety attack in the bathroom. "What the hell's wrong?"
"I broke the car and dad DIDN'T YELL AT ME!"
"Oh, dear."

So she comes out and asks if i'm holding it in until after he's recovered from the shock. The way he described it, she thought the front bumper was now on the dashboard and i'd gone robotic-ally cold, like a Vulcan overdosing on Novocaine. With a fuse burning in one ear. She's sure if i don't vent, then when i do let it out i'm going to rip his head clean off and dance in the arterial splurt.

So now i have to calm her down, and then we both try to calm Tallest down. When we walked into the room, he started to think that Mother had talked me into yelling at him now, so he started hyperventilating... He looks so calm, now, stretched out on the couch, passed out. Drooling slightly. I'm not sure if i should be here when he wakes up. But then we're into a 'wait until your father gets home' scenario. I'll need a trank gun to get him to listen.

Maybe i can get his puppet...He'll believe it if Mr. Wiggles tells him he's not in trouble...
 
I remember those days. I have no memories of being a teenage boy and didn't handle it as well as you do.




I keep walking into another room to check the time, forgetting that the bottom right of the screen could tell me that.
 
I love some of the answers I saw on student papers when I taught.
Here's two from spelling papers in which the students had to use list words in an original sentence:
human - Before there were humans, there were Indians.
pantry - We filled our panties with oranges and bananas.
From social studies:
Name Jefferson's state of birth. Vagina (Yes, perfectly spelled. My principal suggested that I red ink a comment of 'Yes, but what state?' when I showed it to him.)
 
My grandparents owned a drug store. My dad ran it after the folks got too old.

So he was working there when i came home on leave after my first submarine patrol.

I'd long known that the reason the floors of a drug-store pharmacy are raised is so you can check out the cute customers in the aisles. During that trip, my dad nodded me over to where he was standing. Down the shampoos and hair dyes aisle was a woman in line at the greeting card checkout. She was short, long curly blond hair, soft white jeans over a very taut ass. We both made appreciative noises. She was cute.

She turned at some sound and we saw that the customer also had a bushy beard halfway down his chest.

Argh, ack, ooo, icky, we both went.

The customer turned back around. "But," i said, "that IS a nice ass if you don't know any better."

Freaked my dad right out...
 
Funny story for today. I was teaching preppies again today and this bunch were delightful.

Anyway, they were trying to think of things that start with 'm'. This kid is thinking and guessing all sorts of things. While he is doing it, he is tapping his mouth. So I tap my mouth and ask him 'what is this' meaning what am I pointing to. His response: 'That's me guessing!'
 
Sunday, i got up about an hour after the wife did.
When i got to the kitchen, she reported that the deliveryman had not delivered our newspaper. As she said this, i could see out the window that he was shoving the paper in right that moment.
"Did you look clear in the back?" I asked. "Sometimes he shoves it in there pretty far."
"Of course i looked all the way to the back," she snapped.
"Wel, come on, i'll show you how to look for the newspaper." I turned and went out the door. She did not join me to find out how to look for the paper. Rather, she turned and watched me at the window. Sure enough, the paper was in the box. I made a big deal of reaching deeply into the box and pulling it out. I was talking as i came in the door, "See, he had it shoved way, way back in there. Happens sometimes. If you'd like, i can show you how to look all the way to the back...."
"You are SUCH an asshole," she diagnosed me.
"There's no shame in not seeing all the way to the back, it's dark in there," i condescended. Then she started playing with a letter opener, and i figured that the joke needed to die a natural death. Mostly because we don't have letter openers, as much as we have some knives that aren't used for cooking....
 
Wiploc said:
The National Enquirer once had a story about a brain transplant. In that story, they referred to the guy who lived (that is, the guy whose brain survived and whose body was thrown away) as the "donor."

That's the only time I bought a National Enquirer.
Click to expand...

Heard this story on the radio once (I think it was Stephen Fry, not sure):
In a hospital visiting a friend, he (the narrator) struck up a conversation with a doctor.
Doctor: "I see you've got a crash helmet. Biker, eh?"
Narrator: "Yes, that's right. You, too?"
Doctor: "No, no. Just interested. D'you know what we call bikers here at the hospital?"
Narrator: "No, what?"
Doctor: "Donors."

And another: A family in hospital talking to the transplant surgeon; he tells them that there's no problem with their son's readiness for an eye transplant, except that, right now, they don't have a transplant eye to give him. He walks to the window and sees it's starting to rain on the traffic-filled streets outside ... "Shouldn't be long, though ..."
 
C_Mucius_Scaevola said:
Wiploc said:
The National Enquirer once had a story about a brain transplant. In that story, they referred to the guy who lived (that is, the guy whose brain survived and whose body was thrown away) as the "donor."

That's the only time I bought a National Enquirer.
Click to expand...

Heard this story on the radio once (I think it was Stephen Fry, not sure):
In a hospital visiting a friend, he (the narrator) struck up a conversation with a doctor.
Doctor: "I see you've got a crash helmet. Biker, eh?"
Narrator: "Yes, that's right. You, too?"
Doctor: "No, no. Just interested. D'you know what we call bikers here at the hospital?"
Narrator: "No, what?"
Doctor: "Donors."

And another: A family in hospital talking to the transplant surgeon; he tells them that there's no problem with their son's readiness for an eye transplant, except that, right now, they don't have a transplant eye to give him. He walks to the window and sees it's starting to rain on the traffic-filled streets outside ... "Shouldn't be long, though ..."
Click to expand...

Illinois is one of those states in which motorcycle helmets are not required. A medical doctor who is also a motorcycle enthusiast had this to say about the choice of whether or not to wear a helmet: "The purpose of a helmet is to protect what you put in it. Obviously, some people have less to lose than others."
 
I was against the seatbelt laws until I heard that the organ banks ran out inventory once they passed.
 
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