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-   -   Post something that made you laugh today. (http://www.zefrank.com/bulletin_new/showthread.php?t=4329)

Audreyvgs 03-26-2004 01:43 AM

I don't believe that Cleveland has been represented here in such a clever way, nice to meetcha!

sparticle 03-26-2004 02:10 AM

I figured that perhaps the fact that I am from Cleveland would give other folks their posts for this thread. ;) It certainly makes me laugh. Every day. :)

Very nice to meet you!

rapscalious rob 03-28-2004 07:49 PM

When I walked into my office today, there was a message on the answering machine. Here is what it said, in the voice of a kid who didn’t sound much older than 12 years or so:

“Hey, wassup, dog? It’s Puff Daddy, foo. Give me a call back at 735-64110. It’s Puff Daddy, foo.”

Then you could hear his friends giggling in the background before he hung up.

Frieda 03-28-2004 08:01 PM

did you call back? :D

rapscalious rob 03-28-2004 08:31 PM

No - it wasn’t even a valid phone number! :D

sparticle 03-28-2004 09:23 PM

Rapscalious Rob in the Thread Killers' Thread. " BLAH BLAH " indeed! :D

Hermione 03-28-2004 10:12 PM

"he is hot.. and rich.. I should become impregnated with his child so he would be forced to marry me..." - My friend

zenbabe 03-28-2004 11:00 PM

Nothing really made me laugh today....except the AngelofGOD thread.........

that's pretty bad............

fodder 03-29-2004 01:43 AM

that angelofgod thread

and the part on arrested development when the magician brother was telling his nephew to "just go" and muttering "i'm sorry, son" and the nephew was like, what

and i just got my cats this three tier cat tree thing that's floor to ceiling. i started pretend-scratching on it so they would copy me and they did and it was so cute i almost threw 'em across the room

masterofNone 03-29-2004 01:53 AM

i think one day fodder is going to grow up to be rimmer.

fodder 03-29-2004 01:59 AM

:confused:

funkytuba 03-29-2004 03:30 AM

Went to a park today with Little Funky (age 2). I brought bubbles. This 8 yr old kid who happened to be at the park was following us around to pop the bubbles I was blowing. Little Funky thought it was absolutely-fvking-hilarious that this "big boy" wanted to pop our bubbles, and laughed uproariously whenever said big kid was around.

Frieda 03-29-2004 02:04 PM

my colleague Henk answering the internal office phone with:

"no jokes, friend, or i'll pump you in the face!"

daverbee 03-29-2004 02:19 PM

This. Once again from I Am Eating My Husband's Soul:

My Hamster, My Self


My son and I got a hamster a few months ago. Thinking that it would be wrong to keep this creature in isolation, we thought ahead and purchased a palatial Hamster Estate. This included 2 cages, 3 ‘outposts’, a hamster bathroom, a lookout post, and 2 exercise wheels and probably a ¼ mile of tubing to connect everything. After having one hamster for a week, we returned to the pet store to buy him a society.

We brought our hamster along in his mobile outpost. “Can we see if he’ll get along with a couple of these hamsters?” I asked the pimply attendant in the Rodent Room.

“He won’t.” replied our post-puberty host. “Hamsters fight.” He had a rat on his shoulder. It was his best feature.

“We could buy a mate, then. We don’t want him to be alone.”

Rat-lad shrugged. He grabbed a book and read aloud to me,

“Hamsters are solitary creatures with nasty social dispositions. They should be together only for breeding, and even then the results of combining two hamsters can be very unpredictable.”

It was then that I knew, after 20+ years of dating, countless boyfriends and 3 husbands, that at last I had found my soul mate. He cost $1.99. His name is Howard. We both enjoy running, eating fruits and vegetables, being out of drafts, and having our shit in a room separate from our sleeping quarters. Neither of us is inclined to go looking for a dinner party.



I understand Howard in a way that I am not understood by my loved ones. For instance, knowing what I do about hamsters, I do not force Howard to mingle with his own nasty kind, and yet a week does not go by that my husband isn’t trying to ease me into some awful social situation.

“It’s just dinner. I’ll cook! We have a great house for entertaining…They’re my friends.” He will whine, trying everything.

It’s true. Like Howard, we have a large house with many rooms. We have all the best in home entertainment systems. We have more than one living room, more than one room designated for ‘dining’, something I prefer to only do ‘out’.

I have always considered the terms ‘formal dining’ to be in the same family as ‘exploratory surgery’ on the ole I Want To Do It scale. Either way, the enormous oak table that dominates our huge barren dining room is perfect.



His friends are trouble for me. They iron their clothes and laugh at stuff that isn’t really funny; they use the word ‘cute’ to describe things they admire, like talking baby movies or short pink pants. They own ceramic wildlife figurines. Smiling bears... chipmunks too terrible to face. Geese in aprons. Save me, Howard…

I do not blend easily into this sort of society.

It’s a bad situation for everyone. What I lack in social grace and conversation skills, I make up for in furtiveness and sweat glands. Even a simple question like, “What have you been up to?” can trigger a response so awkward or just plain lurid that only an explosion or rectal bleeding can move us past it.



I have the sort of friends who wouldn’t think to invite me to dinner unless there was a darker and more sinister intent. “I need you to keep watch while I break into this guy’s house and get back my Vicodan™.

THEN I’ll buy us pizza!”

Purposeful relationships that provide amusing stories,

“And then, just as Cindy was inside the guy’s house, silhouetted perfectly in the window going through his pants pockets, he walked up and stood beside me on the sidewalk. ‘I think she is having trouble moving on,’ I said, and together we watched her move on to ransacking his dresser drawers. Later we talked about restraining orders over pizza and beer, and how they just didn’t mean much anymore. “Like we had something special,” Cindy snorted.



This story is not one Eric’s friends, not a hamster among them, would enjoy or even understand. Yet, desperate for something, anything, to share, I tell it at our ill-advised dinner “party.”

“She broke into this person’s house? And got caught?”

Yvonne asks, confused as to why this is amusing.

“Yes!” I enthuse, “She always gets caught. Last week she got caught peeking through windows. She was trying to figure out if this guy she liked was attached. He was. His wife screamed when Cindy’s head loomed up into their bedroom window.”

Yvonne and her husband Doug exchange signal looks that they imagine only other pretty, fashionable people can decipher. I want to eat my young in front of them, as I know Howard would.

They leave by 9:00. Eric and I stay up and finish the bottle of wine they brought. Eric likes everyone, he has many comfortable acquaintances. He doesn’t ever feel ill at ease with people, unless they yell, cry real tears over their 2nd bottle of wine and keep talking about loving hamsters more than people. That tends to put him on edge.

Did I mention that Howard stays up all night making unholy racket and then sleeps all day? He is truly my better half...

sparticle 03-29-2004 02:49 PM

God, this woman is brilliant. What's the URL to her blog?

It sounds like something I would write.

Maybe I did write it. Nasty fugue states anyway. But they make great excuses!


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