Post Your Funnies, Any Funnies. I need to laugh!

[Posaune]

A guy walks into a bar in New York on a Wednesday. The bartender has never seen him in there before. The guy orders three pints and wants them all at the same time; he has an Irish accent. After he has received all three beers he drinks them all himself, but sips from each one in turn until he finishes rather than one at a time, then he leaves. This goes on every Wednesday.

The bartender finally asks him what the deal with the three beers at once is about and he replies, "Back in the Old Country my two brothers and I would meet up at the pub every Wednesday for a pint. Since I've moved to New York I decided to keep the tradition going. A beer for each brother." The bartender thought it was a great idea and looked forward to his regular Wednesday visits.

Over a year later the guy walked in and ordered two beers, sat down and began to sip from them. The bartender became very concerned and finally went over to him and said, "I'm so sorry for your loss!" The guy looked at the bartender funny, then laughed and said, "Oh, my brothers are just fine! It's just that I quit drinking!"

 

[Dave Petersen]

Dave for the win! Those Japanese pranks had me crying I was laughing so hard!

There are a lot of them.

 

[JeffB]

I've debated most of this afternoon about posting the below here, but have concluded that qualifies.

In tribute to the start of college football, a Southerner's (and other's, I suppose) second religion. This is an oldie that, IMHO, stands up to the test of time. I know I always laugh out loud to the point of peeing a little bit every time I read it, and I read it at the beginning of every football season to kick things off right.

Read or skip as you see fit. It's long, but I think it's absolutely hilarious.



A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999


6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full-freaking blast

6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels

7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the morning)

8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)

8:53 Crack open second beer

8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)

10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for smoooooth 95

10:35 Headed for San Antonio

10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities

11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam.

11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees.

11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.

11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f(*& himself.

12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We're on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT.

12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the *(&^ out of Nebraska.

1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the s&!* out of Nebraska.

1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants.

1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They’re taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the s*(& out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be remembered as "Cell-Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if he's so confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those non-refundable, non-transferrable sons-of-bitches!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non-refundable and non-transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game kingdom.

2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy.

2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas.

3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking s(*&. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler.

3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety.

3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler.

4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice cock." He is unamused.

4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase $5 Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pu&&&^.

4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants.

5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field.

5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable."

5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the f()* didn't you announce last call over the ****ing PA system??!!"

5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a gargantuan shit all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.

6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship.

6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.

7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store. I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows.
Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig.

7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.

8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to **** off and restart "Neon Moon."

8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a f(*&^%$ tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.

8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the shit out of Arizona.

9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice cock." No one is amused but me.

9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center, much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no s*&^): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away
for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light.

9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.

10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to f(*& off.

10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst f*(&^%$ call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, "I'm taking this a bit seriously."

10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops.

10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving.

10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap.

11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid coc(*&^%$#r."

11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid coc*&^%$#r."

11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid coc*&^%$#r."

11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid coc&^%$#$%."

11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around and pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon Moon."

12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle.

12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to die tonight.

12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's.

1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of spastic laughter, "I've been working this door for almost a year. I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker mother fu&^%$# than you three. Sorry, can't let you
in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder.

1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat wasn't that fu^%$#' hard. Day don't fu^&%$' do that at the Awamo...the awaom...the alab...f&^% it, that stadium we was at today..." We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers.

2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us the two and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it.

2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are seated immediately. 2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a hamburger, two
cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion rings.

2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every fu&*&*& bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a ****. The tab is $112 with tip.

2:46 I'm sleepy.

9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty.

HOOK 'EM HORNS, BABY!!! Out--

 

[Monique]

Okay, here's an oldie but goodie that's so old (1999), most people haven't read it. Bear in mind this is believed to be a TRUE STORY. It's one of those that builds.

From http://www.jerrypournelle.com/reports/jerryp/dogsinelk.html

dogs in elk Posted by Anita z8 Seattle ([email protected]) on Fri, Oct 22, 99 at 14:44 The following apparently appeared recently on one of the newsgroups, rec.pets. It sounds pretty believable to me--though it's so funny, I'm not sure that I care. It's pretty long, but it's worth it. ---------------------

Anne V - 01:01pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1318 of 1332) Okay - I know how to take meat away from a dog. How do I take a dog away from meat? This is not, unfortunately, a joke.

AmyC - 01:02pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1319 of 1332) Um, can you give us a few more specifics here?

Anne V - 01:12pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1320 of 1332) They're inside of it. They crawled inside, and now I have a giant incredibly heavy piece of carcass in my yard, with 2 dogs inside of it, and they are NOT getting bored of it and coming out. One of them is snoring. I have company arriving in three hours, and my current plan is to 1. put up a tent over said carcass and 2. hang thousands of fly strips inside it. This has been going on since about 6:40 this morning.

AmyC - 01:19pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1321 of 1332) Oh. My. God. What sort of carcass is big enough to hold a couple of dogs inside? Given the situation, I'm afraid you're not going to be create enough of a diversion to get the dogs out of the carrion, unless they like greeting company as much as they like rolling around in dead stuff. Which seems unlikely. Can you turn a hose on the festivities?

Ase Innes-Ker - 01:31pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1322 of 1332) I'm sorry Anne. I know this is a problem (and it would have driven me crazy), but it is also incredibly funny.

Anne V - 01:31pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1323 of 1332) Elk. Elk are very big this year, because of the rain and good grazing and so forth. They aren't rolling. They are alternately napping and eating. They each have a ribcage. Other dogs are working on them from the outside. It's all way too primal in my yard right now. We tried the hose trick. At someone elses house, which is where they climbed in and began to refuse to come out. Many hours ago. I think that the hose mostly helps keep them cool and dislodges little moist snacks for them. hose failed. My new hope is that if they all continue to eat at this rate, they will be finished before the houseguests arrive. The very urban houseguests. Oh, god - I know it's funny. It's appalling, and funny, and completely entirely representative of life with dogs.

Kristen R. - 01:37pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1324 of 1332) I'm so glad I read this thread, dogless as I am. Dogs in elk. Dogs in elk.

Anne V - 01:41pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1325 of 1332) It's like that childrens book out there - dogs in elk, dogs on elk, dogs around elk, dogs outside elk. And there is some elk inside of, as well as on, each dog at this point.

Elizabeth K - 01:57pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1328 of 1333) Anne, aren't you in Arizona or Nevada? There are elk there? I'm so confused! We definately need to see pics of Gus Pong and Jake in the elk carcass.

Anne V - 02:03pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1329 of 1333) I am in New Mexico, but there are elk in both arizona and nevada, yes. There are elk all over the da*n place. They don't look out very often. If you stand the ribcage on end they scramble to the top and look out, all red. Otherwise, you kinda have to get in there a little bit yourself to really see them. So I think there will not be pictures.

CoseyMo - 02:06pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1330 of 1333) "all red;" I'm not sure the deeper horror of all this was fully borne in upon me till I saw that little phrase.

Anne V - 02:10pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1331 of 1333) Well, you know, the Basenji (that would be Jake) is a desert dog, naturally, and infamous for it's aversion to water. And then, Gus Pong (who is coming to us, live, unamplified and with a terrific reverb which is making me a little dizzy) really doesn't mind water, but hates to be cold. Or soapy. And both of them can really run. Sprints of up to 35 mph have been clocked. So. If ever they come out, catching them and returning them to a condition where they can be considered house pets is not going to be, shall we say, pleasant.

CoseyMo - 02:15pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1332 of 1333) What if you stand the ribcage on end, wait for them to look out, grab them when they do and pull?

Anne V - 02:18pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1333 of 1333) They wedge their toes between the ribs. And scream. We tried that before we brought the elk home from the mountain with dogs inside. Jake nearly took my friends arm off. He's already short a toe, so he cherishes the 15 that remain.

Linda Hewitt - 02:30pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1336 of 1356) Have you thought about calling your friendly vet and paying him to come pick up the dogs, elk and letting the dogs stay at the vets overnight. If anyone would know what to do, it would be your vet. It might cost some money, but it would solve the immediate crisis. Keep us posted.

ChristiPeters - 02:37pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1337 of 1356) Yikes! My sympathy! When I lived in New Mexico, my best friend's dog (the escape artist) was continually bringing home road kill. When there was no road kill convenient, he would visit the neighbor's house. Said neighbor slaughtered his own beef. The dog found all kinds of impossibly gross toys in the neighbor's trash pit. I have always had medium to large dogs. The smallest dog I ever had was a mutt from the SPCA who matured out at just above knee high and about 55 pounds. Our current dog (daughter's choice) is a Pomeranian. A very small Pomeranian. She's 8 months old now and not quite 4 pounds. I'm afraid I'll break her.

Lori Shiraishi - 02:38pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1338 of 1356) Bet you could fit a whole lot of Pomeranians in that there elk carcass! Anne - my condolences on what must be an unbelievable situation!

Anne V - 02:44pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1339 of 1356) I did call my vet. He laughed until he was gagging and breathless. He says a lot of things, which can be summed as *what did you expect?* and *no, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog.* He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home. Thanks, Lori. I am almost surrendered to the absurdity of it.

Lori Shiraishi - 02:49pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1340 of 1356) "He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home." So he can fall down laughing in person?

Anne V - 02:50pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1341 of 1356) Basically, yeah. That would be about it.

AmyC - 02:56pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1342 of 1356) No, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog." Oh, sweet lo*d, Anne. You have my deepest sympathies in this, perhaps the most peculiar of the Gus Pong Adventures. You are truly a woman of superhuman patience. wait -- you carried the carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside?

Anne V - 02:59pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1343 of 1356) The carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside? no, well, sort of. My part in the whole thing was to get really stressed about a meeting that I had to go to, and say *yeah, ok, whatever* when it was suggested that the ribcages, since we couldn't get the dogs out of them and the dogs couldn't be left there, be brought to my house. Because, you know - I just thought they would get bored of it sooner or later. But it appears to be later, in the misty uncertain future, that they will get bored. Now, they are still interested. And very loud, one singing, one snoring.

Lori Shiraishi - 03:04pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1344 of 1356) And very loud, one singing, one snoring. wow. I can't even begin to imagine the acoustics involved with singing from the inside of an elk.

Anne V - 03:04pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1345 of 1356) reverb. lots and lots of reverb.

Anne V - 03:15pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1347 of 1356) I'll tell you the thing that is causing me to lose it again and again, and then I have to go back outside and stay there for a while. After the meeting, I said to my (extraordinary) boss, "look, I've gotta go home for the rest of the day, I think. Jake and Gus Pong are inside some elk ribcages, and my dad is coming tonight, so I've got to get them out somehow." And he said, pale and huge-eyed, "Annie, how did you explain the elk to the clients?" The poor, poor man thought I had the carcasses brought to work with me. For some reason, I find this deeply funny. (weekend pause)

Anne V - 08:37am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1395 of 1405) So what we did was put the ribcages (containing dogs) on tarps and drag them around to the side yard, where I figured they would at least be harder to see, and then opened my bedroom window so that the dogs could let me know when they were ready to be plunged into a de-elking solution and let in the house. Then I went to the airport. Came home, no visible elk, no visible dogs. Peeked around the shrubs, and there they were, still in the elk. By this time, they had gnawed out some little portholes between some of the ribs, and you got the occasional very frightening glimpse of something moving around in there if you watched long enough. After a lot of agonizing, I went to bed. I closed the back door, made sure my window was open, talked to the dogs out of it until I as sure they knew it was open, and then I fell asleep. Sometimes, sleep is a mistake, no matter how tired you are. And especially if you are very very tired, and some of your dogs are outside, inside some elks. Because when you are that tired, you sleep through bumping kind of noises, or you kind of think that it's just the house guests. It wasn't the house guests. It was my dogs, having an attack of teamwork unprecedented in our domestic history. When I finally woke all the way up, it was to a horrible vision. Somehow, 3 dogs with a combined weight of about 90 pounds, managed to hoist one of the ribcages (the meatier one, of course) up 3 feet to rest on top of the swamp cooler outside the window, and push out the screen. What woke me was Gus Pong, howling in frustration from inside the ribcage, very close to my head, combined with feverish little grunts from Jake, who was standing on the nightstand, bracing himself against the curtains with remarkably bloody little feet. Here are some things I have learned, this Rosh Hashanah weekend: 1. almond milk removes elk blood from curtains and pillowcases, 2. We can all exercise superhuman strength when it comes to getting elk carcasses out of our yard, 3. The sight of elk ribcages hurtling over the fence really frightens the nice deputy sheriff who lives across the street, and 4. the dogs can pop the screens out of the windows, without damaging them, from either side.

Anne V - 09:58am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1401 of 1405) What I am is really grateful that they didn't actually get the damn thing in the window, which is clearly the direction they were going in. And that the nice deputy didn't arrest me for terrifying her with elk parts before dawn.

AmyC - 09:59am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1402 of 1405) Imagine waking up with a gnawed elk carcass in your bed, like a real-life "Godfather" with an all-dog cast.

Anne V - 10:01am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1403 of 1405) There is not enough almond milk in the world to solve an event of that kind.

 

[Tricia]

Here's something that could make you laugh.
With all the nonsense with the political parties, I am betting you could get behind (pun intended) the Panty Party!
See ad from Facebook.

 

[AmyPJ]

Here's something that could make you laugh.
With all the nonsense with the political parties, I am betting you could get behind (pun intended) the Panty Party!
See ad from Facebook.
View attachment 12995

So, those do NOT look comfortable at all. All that material up the butt crack. No thanks!

 

[Tricia]

So, those do NOT look comfortable at all. All that material up the butt crack. No thanks!

But, did it make you laugh?

 

[AmyPJ]

But, did it make you laugh?

Yes! And what is overdoing it? Too much material?!

 

[Tricia]

Yes! And what is overdoing it? Too much material?!

THAT is why I took a screen shot of the whole ad. I loved that it said, "Its okay to overdo it."

 

[Karen_skier2.0]

If this doesn't make you laugh, nothing will.
You could always tell when Tim Conway had the rest of the team in stitches. They couldn't speak.
Just when they get their composure, he starts in again.

Oh, that is my favorite skit of all time--the Siamese elephants!

 

[Tricia]

 

[cantunamunch]

 

[Dave Petersen]

 

[scott43]

Not a joke..but you can all laugh at my misery. Come home last night, kid (17 mos) is miserable, crying, inconsolable. Try to feed him, he wants none of it, finally give him his mango popsicle..takes two licks..sitting in my lap on the porch watching the cars go by..looks me straight in the face, and promptly pukes a bucket on me. He sure felt fine after that! I think he puked out a sponge..I'm thinking, wtf did THAT come from?!!? And then the ants find it and it's insect smorgasbord. Hose him off..hose off the porch...hose me off..all was well after that. Some days I wonder why I don't split my head open with a maul...

 

[SBrown]

Not a joke..but you can all laugh at my misery. Come home last night, kid (17 mos) is miserable, crying, inconsolable. Try to feed him, he wants none of it, finally give him his mango popsicle..takes two licks..sitting in my lap on the porch watching the cars go by..looks me straight in the face, and promptly pukes a bucket on me. He sure felt fine after that! I think he puked out a sponge..I'm thinking, wtf did THAT come from?!!? And then the ants find it and it's insect smorgasbord. Hose him off..hose off the porch...hose me off..all was well after that. Some days I wonder why I don't split my head open with a maul...

The best thing is that I read this the first time thinking your kid was 17 years old.

 

[AmyPJ]

Oh, gross. I don't do vomit at ALL. It's honestly a big reason I did not go into nursing!

Carry on, these are all awesome!

 

[David Chaus]

Couldn't resist. sorry.......

 

[David Chaus]

this may be a little easier to handle.

 

[Dave Petersen]

 

[Tricia]