Tag Archives: funny haha
Universal Laws – Stronger Than Murphy’s Law
Life sometimes gets in the way in my virtual existence here as a super hot badass.
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This post is a Lazy Post where I repost funny things in one of those chain emails (Somebody loves me!)… See that shank? (Wink wink at Vapid who is a master shank artisan) Yeah. Keep it to yourself if you think THIS is my best post ever. *Glare*
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Law of Mechanical Repair –
After our hands become coated with grease, your nose will begin to itch and you’ll have to pee.Law of Gravity – Any tool, nut, bolt, screw, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner.
Law of Probability -The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act
Law of Random Numbers – If you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal and someone always answers.
Law of the Alibi – If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire..
Variation Law – If you change lines (or traffic lanes), the one you were in will always move faster than the one you are in now (works every time).
Law of the Bath – When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings.
Law of Close Encounters -The probability of meeting someone you know increases dramatically when you are with someone you don’t want to be seen with.
Law of the Result – When you try to prove to someone that a machine won’t work, it will.
Law of Biomechanics – The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach.
Law of the Theater and Hockey Arena – At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle, always arrive last. They are the ones who will leave their seats several times to go for food, beer, or the toilet and who leave early before the end of the performance or the game is over. The folks in the aisle seats come early, never move once, have long gangly legs or big bellies, and stay to the bitter end of the performance.. The aisle people also are very surly folk.
The Coffee Law – As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.
Murphy’s Law of Lockers – If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers.
Law of Physical Surfaces – The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich landing face down on a floor, are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet or rug.
Law of Logical Argument – Anything is possible if you don’t know what you are talking about.
Brown’s Law of Physical Appearance – If the clothes fit, they’re ugly.
Oliver’s Law of Public Speaking – A closed mouth gathers no feet.
Wilson’s Law of Commercial Marketing Strategy – As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.
Doctors’ Law – If you don’t feel well, make an appointment to go to the doctor, by the time you get there you’ll feel better. But don’t make an appointment, and you’ll stay sick.
If you have mastered one-hand typing
If you have mastered one-hand typing.
If you have mastered doing household chores with only one hand.
If you have managed to teach yourself to use the non-dominant hand because your dominant hand is now dominated by a baby that prefers your arm more than anything else.
If you curse at the mailman for dropping the yellow pages ’cause the sound of it wakes the sleeping baby who you have managed to coax into a nap after hours of walking up and down the hallway.
If you have figured out which part of the floor outside of the baby’s room squeaks and so you try to remember in your sleep-deprived state to not step on that part while you stealthily back away after putting the baby down in the crib.
If the quality of your day is dictated by the quality of naptime.
If you have ever felt the rage towards your husband or your older children for sneezing at the wrong moment right when the baby fell asleep.
If you remember the good old days when the above rang true.
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I thought you’d get a chuckle out of this comic. In between tears maybe. But chuckles most definitely.
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Holiday cheer continues… “The Why’s of Men”
The following is a collection of jokes emailed to me by more than one of my girlfriends. It warms my heart whenever I see these jokes spread like wild fires: I know, I am not alone. And it comforts me. It gives me strength to ignore the gloating from the bitches who claim that their husbands help around the house on a regular basis. Sometimes, they even IRON! If you are one of those lucky bitches gals, good for you. Now go watch your husband iron. For the rest of us, I share with you the jokes that elicit both laughter and tears within me, because of the grain of truth.
The Why’s of Men
1. WHY DO MEN BECOME SMARTER DURING SEX?
because they are plugged into a genius.
2. WHY DON’T WOMEN BLINK DURING SEX?
because they don’t have enough time.
3. WHY DOES IT TAKE 1 MILLION SPERM TO FERTILIZE ONE EGG?
because they don’t stop to ask directions.
4. WHY DO MEN SNORE WHEN THEY LIE ON THEIR BACKS?
because their balls fall over their butt-hole and they vapor lock.
5. WHY WERE MEN GIVEN LARGER BRAINS THAN DOGS?
so they won’t hump women’s legs at cocktail parties.
6. WHY DID GOD MAKE MEN BEFORE WOMEN?
because you need a rough draft before you make a final copy.
7. HOW MANY MEN DOES IT TAKE TO PUT A TOILET SEAT DOWN?
don’t know…..it never happened.
8. WHY DID GOD PUT MEN ON EARTH?
because a vibrator can’t mow the lawn.
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One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his sweatshirt. Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me,
“What setting do I use on the washing machine?”
“It depends,” I replied. “What does it say on your shirt?”
He yelled back, “University of Oklahoma…”
_____________________________________
A couple are lying in bed…
The man says,
“I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world.”
The woman replies,
“I’ll miss you…”
_____________________________________
“It’s just too hot to wear clothes today,” Jack says as he stepped out of the shower, “honey, what do you think the neighbors would think if I mowed the lawn like this?”
“Probably that I married you for your money,” she replied.
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Q: What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive man?
A: A rumor
Q: Why do little boys whine?
A: They are practicing to be men.
Q: What does it mean when a man is in your bed gasping for breath and calling your name?
A: You did not hold the pillow down long enough.
Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail?
A: Rename the mail folder ‘Instruction Manual.’
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Dear Lord,
I pray for Wisdom to understand my man; Love to forgive him; And Patience for his moods. Because, Lord, if I pray for Strength, I’ll beat him to death.
AMEN.
p.s. I guess I am a sexist. The reverse sexist.
p.p.s. Since I came out and “ownded” it, I therefore get a free pass, right?! I LOVE being a bitch!
p.p.s. I can’t help it, I have to sneak this in: Do you think it is possible to be a reverse sexist? That jokes like this are sexist? That jokes like these incite violence against men? (Ok, ok. Elin Nordegren beat Tiger Woods because he was snacking. A lot. From a multitude of takeout restaurants…) You know, that it is legitimate for a man to complain that he fails to get a job, a promotion, college admission because the slot was given to a woman? That because something like that may have happened to him, or a friend’s friend, it is a proof that reverse sexism exists institutionally? I wonder how much someone’s thoughts on / feelings about this are aligned with his/hers for reverse racism?
The Internet has changed forever what we take pictures of…
… even more so now that Smart Phones are becoming ubiquitous. For the better… or for the worst?
To a certain extent it has changed WHEN and WHERE we take pictures. The way we interpret the world. The way we caption the things we see. Now every snap shot that comes through my daily life deserves demands a caption of its own. A running commentary, subtitle of some sort.
When in doubt, complain about your spouse…
I have nothing.
Tis 3 am 4 am on Sunday morning, I am supposed to have published a post on Saturday to meet the NaBloMoFo objective: Guess. One post every day. I have only three more posts to go. For someone who has not filled out a journal past page 10 since, eh, ever, I am actually quite proud of myself for having come this far. Yet, I have nothing. Is it possible to have Writer’s Block when you are technically not a writer? How bad you ask? So bad that I am humming this in my head …
Now THAT is bad, huh. You believe me now?
This brings me to present you with yet another filler post called…
Things My Husband Said that But for the Mercy of god My Children Didn’t Become Orphans with One Parent in Jail…
Scene 1
I suffer from severe morning [sic] sickness. So severe that as soon as I started heaving, I knew I was pregnant with Mr. Monk even before I peed on a stick, that I lost 10 lbs. in the first two weeks in my first pregnancy and almost 20 lbs., in my second pregnancy, that I practically lived by the toilet throughout the entire pregnancy, that I did not stop involuntary vomiting till Mr. Monk was born, that I felt I was starved for nine months and made the mistake of making it up by gaining weight after the pregnancy when clearly I should have done it the other way around…
This is not about how my husband took it upon himself to name the toilet The Porcelain Throne, as in “She is worshiping the Porcelain Throne again.”
On our way back from a routine checkup, after the doctor reassured me that my rapid weight loss during the first trimester was not endangering the baby especially since it happened the exact same way with my first born, my husband claimed that he had a theory about WHY I AM PUKING MY GUTS OUT, and also about WHY I AM HAVING IT TOUGHER THE SECOND TIME AROUND.
“Oh, really?” I was curious. With sincerity.
“How much did you weigh when we first met?”
“Hmm. 155 lbs. I think.”
“So when you were pregnant with [the oldest], you were like what? 165 maybe?”
“Yes…” I don’t care who you are or what kind of solid-fortress relationship you have got going there. Nothing good is going to come out of a pontification on a woman’s weight by her husband. Nothing.
He got really excited now. “You see. You lost about 10 lbs. in two weeks right? So you quickly got down to your ideal weight.”
“Ok…” Again. Nothing good is going to come out of the said husband mentioning the word ideal weight. Nothing.
“You were a lot heavier before you were pregnant this time, right?… [Mulling it over] You were like 180 lbs. no?”
Oh. For the love of god. Please see my comment above.
Taking a deep breath, I corrected him, “No. I was like 172. TOP!”
“Well, but you WERE heavier.” He got more excited because he could see his theory was going to be proven. Soon.
“Fine.” Heh heh. We all know what THAT means.
“So you see, this is the NATURE’s way to get you down to your ideal weight as soon as possible, again.”
He didn’t say it, but I could hear the “Ta da!” in his voice. Unfortunately, he was NOT joking. This was for him a scientific theory. Or, at least, A theory. I could SEE the words forming in 3-D gigantic block letters. With Jazz hands.
TA-DA!
“So… are you saying that I am throwing up because I am FAT? I am FATTER so I throw up MORE?”
…
In case you are wondering, NO, I did not murder him right then and there. No, I did not divorce him either.
My apology to all the foremothers before me that have fought for our liberation. My apology also for the fact that there is not going to be a SCENE 2. I thought there was going to be but I ran out of steam. I am now all indignant all over again. And as you know, indignation drains your energy faster than an amorous vampire bite.
As a consolation prize, here is a short vignette of Things My Husband Said… in case you haven’t got enough of this Tomfoolery Jackassery:
“What does NaBloPoMo mean?”
“It means National Blog Posting Month.”
“Huh?”
“*sigh* It means I have to write a post on my blog every single day for the month of November.”
…
…
“Do you know, *cough*, that December is NaBloJoMo?”
Nice try.
No dice.
How pumpkin pies are made…
Happy Thanksgiving!
Well, yeah, you have to click on this thing below that says “click to continue…” to find out how pumpkin pies are made…
Ready?
Ok.
Are you sure you want to know?
Ok. Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…
You are welcome.
* This is one of those “Internet Memes” that have been emailed around. I do not claim any credit for the wit and skills involved in answering this specific mystery (Mystery #2854) in life.
Happy Thanksgiving to all! Except, well, the bird…
But wait. There is more!
Thanks to Elly over at BugginWord for alerting me to this wonderful, modern rendition of Thanksgiving.
Elly has much to thank for: she beat cancer!
Now let’s all go over and say: Happy first year in remission, Elly!
Social Networking
A dear friend of mine passed this comment on Social Networking along to me from none other than the always brilliant Non Sequitur cartoon. She received it from her doting partner whose eyes could not have rolled any further when my friend and I were comparing our notes on using Twitter…
I found myself more in love with humanity on the Internet when the very human, physical part of it is stripped. Without the physical indicator to dictate who we are from the outside, thus evading the tyranny of visual cues and first impressions and the temptations of ass-u-me-ptions, the Internet just seems to be a better equalizer.
“The Saddest Kid In The Class”
I saw this photo essay on Huffington Post, and it resonated with me somehow. (Actually, not surprisingly…)
The kid’s name is Alex. A-L-E-X.
I hope s/he is doing ok. I hope the smiley face means this was all done tongue in cheek. Perhaps it is a clever maneuver, a sarcastic comment on, a protest against this ubiquitous school project.