Posts Tagged ‘humor’

Me: *snoring*

Alarm clock @ 5:15: *Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz* WAKE UP. WAKE UP. *Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

Me: Huh? Wha? Huh?

Alarm Clock: WAKE UP. Or I will continue to blare Top 40 Country hits until I wake up your wife and daughters.

Me: Huh? Wha?

Me: Wait, what is going on here?

Me: Does that clock say 5:15?  Who the hell set the alarm for 5:15?

Me: Oh wait, I set the alarm for 5:15.

Me: Why on earth did I set the alarm for 5:15 again?

Me: *slides out of bed, turns off the alarm*

Alarm Clock: See ya tomorrow, sucker.

My Body: Wait. What are you doing standing up? We should be sleeping right now.

Me: I’m not exactly sure, myself.  Brain, you want to weigh in?

My Brain: You’ve reached Ross’ Brain. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get back as soon as possible. Hahahaha.

Me: Umm.

Body: Seriously.  Get horizontal now, or I’m gonna do it for you.

Me: Wait. Running. I’m supposed to go running this morning.

Body: Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m going running this morning. Actually, I don’t know why I’m even having this conversation with you. I’m going back to bed.

Me: (weakly) No.

Body: Excuse me?

Me: (more strongly) Just give me a minute. Nap while I stand here and think for a second.

Body: Ok, get back to me when you decide to go back to bed.

Me: *shuffles to kitchen, makes cup of coffee and toasted english muffin w/ peanut butter*

Brain: Is that coffee?

Me: I think so.

Brain: *sniffs* GIMME.

Me: Hold on, it’s too hot.


Brain: Oof. Why am I so fuzzy?

Me: Because it’s 5:27?

Brain: Yeah, that’d do it. Ok, drink your coffee and I’ll check back in with you in 10.

Me: *sips coffee and eats breakfast in silence*

Brain: Hey, so, question for you…

Me: Shoot.

Brain: Do you really need me on this run? Or can I check out until you’re done?

Me: Um. As long as I’m aware enough to watch out for cars, I should be ok.

Brain: Cool, yo. Catch you later!

Me: *gets geared up, stretches, and heads out the door*

Me: *starts to jog down the block*

Body: WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. WHOA. What the hell are you DOING??

Me: Running. Or at least trying to.

Body: Who told you that you could do that?

Me: Um. I need to. I want to. I think.

Body: You could have asked me.

Me: You were off in dreamland. Next time, help me out when I’m trying to get up and I’ll ask for your input.

Body: Yeah, like that’s gonna ever happen.

Me: Asking for your input?

Body: No, me helping you out.

Body: I’ll have you know I’m doing this under duress.

Me: I know. BELIEVE ME, I know.

Body: I’m not going to like this, you know.

Me: Yes you will.

Body: I’ll believe it when I see it.

Me: Um, you like running.


Me: Relax, relax. Look, we’re already a half-mile in to the run.  Don’t you feel better?

Body: Not really.

Me: Then why are you running a minute faster pace than you were when we started?

Body: Because the sooner I hit 4 miles, the sooner I’m done with this running crap.

Me: That’s the ticket. Stick with me, kid, and you’ll go far.

Body: Yeah, not the best way to convince me to keep going.


Me & Body: Shut up. Shut up now, or I will watch reruns of According to Jim until you shrivel up and are left sobbing in the deepest recesses of my head.

Brain: (meekly) OK. Hey, look out for that car.

Me: Thanks.

Brain: Don’t mention it.

Body: Um, guys – next time, can you plan a route that doesn’t involve hills?

Brain: That’s sort of hard to do around here.  We can minimize ’em, but unless we make laps in the neighborhood or drive over to the middle school track, it’s hard to keep it level.

Body: Fine by me!

Brain: Laps around the neighborhood are only slightly more appetizing than watching episodes of Deal or No Deal. I will do everything in my power to sabotage you at work today if you force me to do that more than once a week.

Me: Ok, ok, settle down, guys.  Look, we’ll work out a compromise later.  Right now though, let’s just get through this last mile and then we can move on to something a little more fun this morning.

Body: Like sleep?

Brain: Like more coffee?

Me: How about – a shower, some yogurt, and a nice leisurely drive to work with air conditioning and some interesting podcasts to listen to?

Body and Brain: Deal.

Me: *sighs* And to think I’m crazy enough to consider training for a half-marathon this fall.

Body and Brain: WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. WHOA.

Me: *sighs*

I caught this video today, and immediately thought of Steve.  Once I was a chemistry geek, but unfortunately those days are long behind me, and now I don’t know that I could even balance a chemical equation without a set of scales and some help. (Har de har har)

Anyway, enjoy the video, even if you don’t remember the difference between an exothermic and endothermic reaction.


So you think you had a rough childhood?  Check out these pics and THEN tell me you had a rough childhood!

Of course, first, I had professional photographers constantly documenting my "chubby baby syndrome".

And then, pretty much as soon as I could stand, my parents put me to work.  Don't be fooled by my cheery expression.  I was told that I would not get my daily ration of Spaghetti-O's if I did not smile for the camera.

My parents were always dressing me up in silly costumes to entertain the throngs of the people at the local parks.  After I'd put on a performance, I'd wander through the crowd, passing a hat for spare change.

When I became too old to be cute during these performances, I was conscripted in a theme-based child-labor factory manufacturing cheap Native American knockoff goods.  We had to dress in costumes for the tour groups that came by every half hour.  Sometimes I would smuggle out a single feather or bead, and slowly built my own set of bongo drums that I then sold on the black market to pay for my raging Pixy Stix habit.

I had to take all my baths in the kitchen sink.  I didn't even get the whole sink to myself; I had to share it with one of my two brothers.

And finally, when my youngest brother was old enough to handle the guitarrón (acoustic bass), we three brothers were forced to start our very own mariachi band to entertain at the neighborhood synagogue.  Unfortunately, we could not afford the traditional charro outfits, and instead had to adorn ourselves in the cast-offs of the local children.  Our band's name, of course, was Vlad and the Transformer Tigers.  Unfortunately, the infighting began during post-production of our first record album, and it never saw the light of day.

So now you've seen the sordid truth of my youth.  I'm actually not out to find out who had the worst childhood, but I am curious – what was YOUR childhood like?  Bonus points if you post pictures of your own, or link to ones you've already posted in the past…

[NaBloPoMo 2008 – #17 / 30]

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A Saturday of 5ives

Posted: 2008-11-08 in General
Tags: , , , , ,

Some lists of 5ives, inspired by Merlin Mann's site

Five Signs You Never Want to See Posted at Your Gym

  1. "Due to the rash of recent infections in the locker rooms, please wear flip-flops in the shower.  Better yet, please wear your tennis shoes in the shower."
  2. "Until we can get the CD player fixed, the PA system will be stuck playing Madonna's album "Ray of Light" on repeat.  Sorry for the inconvenience."
  3. "Any individual seen taking pictures in the locker rooms should be reported to the front desk at once."
  4. "We have now opened up a new session of the pole-dancing class SPECIFICALLY for those 55 and older.  All others should continue to take the Wednesday morning class."
  5. "Mandatory drug testing will begin on Monday morning.  Please show up hydrated and ready to 'go'."

Five Things You'd Be Better Off Doing Than Posting on Vox on Saturdays (and Sitting Around, Hoping for Comments)

  1. Organizing your CD collection chronologically by when you purchased the albums
  2. Scrubbing out your toilets with an old toothbrush
  3. Trying to convince someone of another political party that your chosen candidate is better than theirs
  4. Watching 12 straight hours of QVC or equivalent programming
  5. Calculate the average number of minutes in a given week you waste online

Five Reasons Merlin Mann Hasn't Posted Any New 5ives Recently

  1. He's spending all his time blogging about blogging better
  2. He has been secretly recruited by Barack Obama to implement a Getting Things Done system for the new administration (and everyone will have Hipster PDAs!)
  3. He just doesn't care anymore.  And he likes to see you cry about it.
  4. He's secretly hoping you'll post some lists to fill the void.  Then he plans to steal them from you and repost under his own name.
  5. He's too busy talking into a vaguely cell-phone-like object. (Be sure to check out the one entitled "Solid State" – it's funny)

Five Signs You May Want to Get a New Roommate

  1. You wake up to find your current roommate measuring your inseam.
  2. You walk in one day to find your roommate guiltily stuffing something large and furry down the garbage disposal.
  3. You think that your roommate believes the phrase "April showers" describes how often a year they should bathe
  4. When perusing the cookbooks in the kitchen, you come across A Cookbook for Cannibals
  5. Your roommate and his/her pet owl keeps you up all night with their incessant hooting

Five Reasons I Should Have a Fifth 5ive Here, But Don't

  1. It's almost midnight when I'm typing this, and I need to get some shuteye
  2. I ran out of good ideas for another list
  3. My tumblr addiction is getting out of control
  4. My dog ate my computer
  5. Ok, technically I do have a fifth 5ive now.  Do I have to go back and change the title?  Ah, screw it.

[NaBloPoMo 2008 – #8/30]

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Note: Sunday NaBloPoMo entries are always going to be the hardest to get out, since I am devoting most of my weekend to my family.  I'll definitely get them out, but the content on Sundays may be a little lighter than what I'm hoping to provide during the rest of the week.

I get a lot of random spam, but Gmail does a great job of dumping it in the spam folder so I never have to see it.  Unless I want to, of course.  It's usually a waste of time to look in there, but every once in a while I'll peruse it and find a few gems that strike me as funny.

Here's the best of the subject lines that I pulled before emptying my spam folder today:

It is the best moment to forget about everything just open the door

Having just read the story of the 3 little pigs to my daughter, I can imagine this would be exactly what the Big Bad Wolf would write in an email to the pig who built his house out of bricks.

S0FT Cialls at $2.22 per dose

Soft and Cialls (sic) should probably not be mentioned in the same sentence, if you get my drift.

Top products of top brands.

Classic undersell here.  I don't think it works very well, in spam or in other advertising fields.  I mean, who's going to buy Bounty if it was just advertised as "A pretty absorbent paper towel"?

It has never been this easy to change your life as radically as now

This actually might be a great mantra for my new self-help book.  Coming soon to a bookstore near you!

Knock her up with SpermaMax!

…Sorry, I just can't stop laughing at the name "SpermaMax".  I'll get back to you with a witty comment about this one later.

Show your close ones you care, quit smoking today

Great advice, not so great as a spam message…

Bring back time when girls were yours.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure the 13th amendment got rid of slavery almost 150 years ago?  There's no going back, bud.

Want to act like a tiger in bed?

Um, depends.  Is this going to involve…."yiffing"? *shudder*

Do you have the two off hours per day?

Yes, if I have to get up early for work, you can pretty much be assured I'm going to have at least two hours that day that I'm feeling off.

Precious kitty banged in dark room bread

Uh…I don't know and I don't want to know.  But the text in the email also had "Runcible cat with crimson whiskers", which is pretty much the coolest band name I've heard this year.  (May be shortened to just Runcible Cat when they make it big.)

IT'S EASY AS 1, 2, 3

"Alex, What is 'A, B, C'?"

Hello. ur new offshore harmacy is open.

Now I'm wondering what a Harmacy would look like.  Obviously this is a seasonal store, only open in the month(s) preceding Halloween.  I'm picturing medieval dungeon decorations, complete with an iron maiden (Excellent!) and shackles on the walls.

Time to be a MAN.

Right!  Man up!  With SpermaMax!

When to stop blogging

Is this a hint this post has gone on too long?

[NaBloPoMo 2008 – #2/30]

Save Ferris

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Just discovered what I want for Father's Day.  Now how do I go back in time and tell my wife two weeks ago so it'll be here on Sunday?

(Gefilte Fish plaque can be found for purchase at Sticker Giant, here)

*Apologies to all who thought you were going to get more of a homage to Seinfeld than you actually did. Blame it on my new project, which is still keeping me too busy to write more stuff here.

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Last night, I had a dream.

No, not the MLK dream.  I never get that inspirational in my dreams.  Usually, I'm the main hero (spy, superhero, regular joe in a set of dangerous circumstances, etc) who has to do something to save the girl/day/world.  Usually I manage to do it.  But I digress, my dream wasn't about this, either.

Last night, I had a dream that I opened a new business.  A combination barber shop and strip club.

Before you give me strange looks, it seemed perfectly natural in the dream.  I can't remember the details, but business was booming and I remember sitting behind a desk, smoking a cigar and counting stacks of cash in a manner reminiscent of Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazzard.

Now, a barber shop/strip club may seem like a good idea on the surface, but let's examine the pros and cons more closely:


  1. There's finally an actual use for that barber pole
  2. Gives scumbags a great excuse when they get home – "Sorry honey, just got a haircut, let me go take a shower and get these little hairs off me [and conveniently wash away any traces of cigarette smoke and/or stripper perfume, heh heh heh]"
  3. You can coin all sorts of new phrases, like:
    1. "Shave and a lapdance, two bucks."
    2. "Buzz me, baby."
    3. "There is NO SEX in the shampoo room!" (with apologies to Chris Rock)


  1. Cut hair and stripper glitter do not mix.  I have a sneaking suspicion the dancers would end up looking like female versions of Teen Wolf (Jason Bateman version, not Michael J. Fox version)
  2. The buzz of electric clippers in the background really cuts down on the erotic appeal of someone gyrating to Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me"
  3. The phrase "Hey baby, do you want a barber-chair dance?" just doesn't sound right
  4. The stylists and the strippers fight over who gets the tip
  5. In a traditional barber shop, you can be reasonably certain that someone isn't going to come after your genitals with a pair of extra sharp scissors.  Add drunken, surly men and disgruntled dancers to the mix and you've got a recipe for disaster.

Yes, I think this is an idea better left unimplemented.

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