Don't Suppose Puns

Someone already blessed the rains down in Africa.

He dreads locking it.

They have a lot on their hands.

“Thanks, man, ” he replied, “I’ve been practicing it a lot.”

I added some fruit and orange juice—now she’s sangria than ever.

It’s suppose to be a romance but don’t be surprised if there’s some Fowl play.

‘Large ones’ was apparently the wrong answer.

So it's been almost 3 weeks since a lockdown was triggered in the UK and there have been quite a few knock on effects.. Some good and some bad which I want to share in this post.

Firstly one of my friends lost his job. He worked as a psychic.. Never saw it coming. Its been a difficult couple of weeks and he is now considering a complete career change...considering becoming a baker of all things.. But I suppose he really kneads the dough. I suggested he focus on photography, but nothing ever developed.

Another of my friends was also made redundant. He managed to get a Skype interview for a position in Tescos within a few days. The interviewer asked him: "what is your biggest weakness?", he replied "I don't know when to quit". The interviewer said "OK, your hired". He said "I quit".

Work has been busy for me but since I can't enjoy the things I usually do I have been looking for some new things to do around the house. It's been nice have the thyme to do more cooking. I randomly started a boat building business in my garage.. Sails have gone through the roof.

In an unsettling reversal of my teenage years I am now shouting at my parents for leaving the house. I suggested they take up scrabble to keep them occupied.. Turned out to be a bad idea from the word go.

It's been great hearing about how world pollution levels have been failling. I read the story about fish now being visible in the canals in Venice.. I hope that story isnt a load of pollocks! Cod, these were eely bad. Will stop carping on now!

I still don’t know how it was supposed to help, but my calves ran away.

I miss Luigi and Maria.

When he got there, a woman extended her hand.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said. "My name is Patricia Wack. How may I help you today?"

Kermit replied, "Hi-ho, Patricia! I'm Kermit the Frog, and I would like to borrow some money."

They walked over to her desk and sat down.

"Certainly, Mr. Frog--"

"Oh, just call me Kermit."

"Okay... Kermit. How much money would you like to borrow?"

"Ten thousand dollars."

Mildly surprised, Ms. Wack looked intently at Kermit.

"Do you have any references?"

"Well, I suppose I could use my father, Keith Richards."

Ms. Wack froze for a second, then...

"THE Keith Richards?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, he told me he's friends with your manager, which is why I came in here."

"Okay... Do you have any collateral?"

"Excuse me?"

"Collateral. Something of value, like a car, or a boat..."

"Oh, yes! I do have something. I have this."

Kermit reached into his briefcase and placed a small figurine on the desk. Patricia looked curiously at the object, then at our amphibious friend.

"What's this?"

"It's a Hummel."

"A what?"

"A Hummel. They're supposed to be quite valuable. Well, at least this one is to me."

She picked up the Hummel and stood up.

"If you don't mind, I would like to show this to the manager."

"Oh, no! I don't mind at all!"

So, Patricia took the Hummel to the manager's office, knocked on the door, and walked inside.

"Patricia! What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Wilson, there's this... frog named Kermit at my desk, and he wants to borrow $10,000, but he has only this for collateral."

Mr. Wilson looked at the Hummel, then out to her desk.

"I don't see anything out of order here."

"But, Mr. Wilson--"

"Look, it's a knick-knack, Patty Wack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

You're supposed to run until you can't anymore or something like that...? I was thinking of trying one out but honestly I don't know how good I'd do I'm an awful runner...

My friend Tyrell tried one last year and said it was the hardest thing he'd ever done...

I still can't believe Tyrannosaurus

Don’t worry, it was never supposed to be a piece of cake.

My dad is 80.....i'm 53. My sister gave him some stockings (like knee socks) from the Vatican that the Pope supposedly wears. Don't ask why it's not important. Odd gift but anyway.....

Dad: "Hmmm.... well that present couldn't be any holier."

Me: "Well if the socks had holes in them they would be holier."

My Dad: "jesus christ" <while stifling a chuckle>

my 20ish adult Kids: <blank stare and power down look>

I was so proud.

I don't see this happening, but it would be nice if there were topical post flairs we could mark our dad jokes with. For example "movies", "kitchen", "car", "job", "wife", "mother-n-law", etc. I suppose the possibilities are endless, which probably means it won't be happening. But, you'll be cooler than my dad, if you do. :-) There is a lot of comedy gold on here, which would be great to have these to sort by when inspiration fails to strike.

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.

The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”

Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.

Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”

Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.

Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.

Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.

Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.

Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.

The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.

Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”

Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”

Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”

Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.

Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.

Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas

Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.

The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...

ahem...

Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.

Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.

Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.

The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.

That's the theory, at least.

Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.

Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out

What letter is this?

"Y"

Because I'm asking you! What letter is it??

"Y!"

How am I supposed to know if you've learnt it if you don't tell me?? What letter is this??

I look at him. He's looking at me. I can see his brain stuck in a loop he's not sure how to get out of. He sees me starting to crack up and out it comes, the unquestionable evidence of a successful dad joke

"Ugh! DAAAAAAAAADDDD"

They scan the room and approach the table of an available recruitment officer. "Hello gentlemen, please have a seat and we can begin." The two men sit in the chairs and pull up to the table. "Now," says the recruitment officer, "hopefully we can find employment for both of you based on your prior work experience. We have a wide variety of jobs available. I'll ask you some questions and we can go from there." The two men nod eagerly in agreement. The officer turns to the first man. "Can you tell me what you did for work before today?" "I'm a pilot," the man replies. "Oh, that's great," the officer exclaims, "I already know that we are definitely looking for pilots!" He takes some notes and turns to the second man. "And can you tell me what you did for work before today?" "I'm a wood cutter," the man says in reply. "Oh, dear," the officer says, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but we have don't have any positions like that. I'm afraid we can place your friend, but not you." "That's impossible!" the man sputters in disbelief. "I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing I can do." says the officer. "We aren't currently looking for any wood cutters." "But that's insane!" the man shouts in frustration. "If I don't cut the wood, how is he supposed to pile it?"

Her: "Urban Italy looks like a bad place to be with a rented car."

Me: "Yeah, I suppose there are some very old & busy cities there."

Her: "I don't know if I could do it. My Dad drove in Greece and that was bad enough."

Me: "Oof yeah, sounds sketchy. Though you'd think they'd have cleaned it up by now."

Her: ?

Me: "The grease."

"What's 5q + 5q?" he asks

"I don't know... 10q?" I answer

"You're welcome!" he says, laughing.

If you don't get it, say it out loud.

EDIT: If you still don't get it, 10q sounds like "Thank you" (or at least is supposed to).

Last night my family was on speaker phone with my grandpa, and told him about my internship this summer with a large potato chip company.

Grandpa: "Well that is great news, and if you ever decide to live out a life of religious vocation, you can make potato chips for the whole monastery!"

Me: "Yeah, I suppose I could do that"

Grandpa: "You know what they would call you then, don't ya? They call that the chip-monk"

> In a group text with my parents and siblings

Me: Ok all, weekly joke: What is the highest form of flattery?

...

Dad: A plateau?

Me: That's correct! Great job dad :).

[The joke was supposed to end here]

Mom: I don't get it..

Dad: Well then you must be in a canyon because it's over your head!

All: LOL!!

He turned to his daughter and said "I don't think they're supposed to park here"

There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He

The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"

"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."

Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.

"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.

"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"

Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."

That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"

Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."

Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.

Context: Conversation between Friend 1 and Friend 2 about Friend 1's Pontiac Aztek

F1: "Hey, my car doesn't have a flippy gas cover thing, is it supposed to have one?"

F2: "I don't know actually, I'm not an expert on Aztecs, I'm more of an Inca kinda guy."

My dad was eating cashews today and he fed the dog a couple. My mom told him that he shouldn't be giving the dog any nuts because there are some nuts that dogs aren't supposed to have. He responds with "I know, they get them removed so they don't have puppies".

I had to turn away so he didn't see me laughing. Then he ran to tell my brother.

A man gets into a very serious car accident on the highway and has to be rushed to the hospital. After he comes to, he is told that his whole left side is paralyzed and likely won't ever work again. To this the man said "well doctor, how am i supposed to live?" to which the doctor replied "don't worry sir, you'll be All Right."

I'm leaving the house and my dad says he'll close the door for me.
He asks: it's supposed to get cold tonight are you going to bring a jacket?
Me: no I'm okay.
Him: doesn't the bus stop get cold?
Me: I don't know, ask the bus stop.
We burst out into the happiest family laughter.

(At the new safari exhibit)

Zookeeper: The zebras will be introduced to the giraffes next week!

Dad: What are their names?

Zookeeper: I don't think they have names yet...

Dad: Well how are they supposed to introduce themselves??

I just kept walking.

If you don't know what that is, it's a small cheese wheel that comes wrapped in red wax that you're supposed to peel before eating.

I see her eating it and say "you know you can eat the wax on those?"

She says "oh really? Would you like it?" (Offering me the wax)

I say "thank you, but I'm wax-tose intolerant."

(My boss is a goony father of two sons. I was supposed to drive his truck somewhere, and I don't know how to drive manual.)

Me: Oh no, is it a stick? Boss: It's not a stick, it's a truck!

But yes, it was a manual transmission...

We went shopping and we're only supposed to pick up a few things but my dad kept putting stuff in the basket I was carrying. When we got to the register...

Me: I'll pay for my stuff, is that it? Well really you should buy it as a tip for carrying your stuff the whole time.

Him: don't bet on the horses, there's your tip.

Talking about what the person in the Chik-Fil-A costume is to do if a child takes their glove off.

"Apparently the person in the costume is supposed to act like they don't have a hand and than go to their helper and say 'That child is bullying me!'".

At this point my father started historically laughing, and we asked him why.

"Get it? BULLying? Because its the cow?"

Groans were had.

It was the end of class. Before dismissing us, he informs us that we won't be having class the next day and will instead be going to the gymnasium for an assembly. When the bell rang, as everyone was leaving class, I went to his desk and asked what the assembly was supposed to be about. His Response:

"I'm just a mushroom." ...awkward pause, stare... "I live in the dark and people drop crap on me."

I wasn't really sure how to react to that. With a confused look on my face, I just turned around and walked out the door. I'm still not sure if that was a dad joke or the musings of a bitter old man. Maybe both. I don't know, it just seems like it belongs here, if only for the sheer awkwardness of it.

My dad was drilling a hole in his bathroom cabinet to add a handle.

Dad: "I don't think I was supposed to do that..."

Me: "Do what?"

Dad: "What are you a background singer now?"

Took me a second but I can't stop laughing now!

My dad and brother are visiting us, and we'd arranged it so my husband and I were going on vacation just as they were leaving. As I'm running around packing, my husband tells me that we're going to need to bring another bag after all. I commented, "We were supposed to be packing light for this trip!"

My dad, who's standing nearby, pipes in, "You don't have to pack lights. I'm pretty sure they have electricity there." We couldn't help but groan.