It's Christmas Time Again Puns

When we were Christmas shopping for our kids, we went to target. After walking around for a while I got bored and eventually found a bouncy ball. It was a small inflatable basketball about tennis ball sized and being inflated instead of solid rubber, it made a louder noise when it hit the ground.

We were walking around and I was bouncing the ball. My wife got visibly irritated at the constant noise following her around and told me to please put it down. I bounced it again and said "I'm trying, but every time I do, it comes back up into my hand"

Que the groan.

The shop owner directs him to a 1,500$ parrot who can sing Christmas carols. The man doesnt believe the store owner and asks him for proof before dropping the 1,500. The store owner locks the doors and escorts the man to the back of the store and tells him “This is a very special parrot, before he sings you must warm him up by holding a lit match 12 inches beneath.” He then takes out a match, lights it and holds it a rulers length beneath the parrot. After a few moments the parrot starts sining “jingle bells” in the tone of Frank Sinatra. Thinking this might be some cheap parlor trick he asks for several more demonstrations.. “Rudolph” “Frosty the Snowman” “Drummer Boy” even “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” in the best impersonations he’s ever heard! The man gladly hands over the cash and rushes home to amaze his wife. He holds the match a rulers length and nothing. The wife laughingly says he got ripped off. “ No no honey this works watch” he does it again only holding it half a rulers length this time and still nothing! The wife, laughing hysterically, starts going back upstairs. “NO honey it really works watch!” “Im going to bed, Merry Christmas” says the wife as she turns to head up the stairs. “WAIT Honey, one more time, please!” He pulls out another match, this time holding it three inches under the parrot who then squawks out “CHESTNUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE”

Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.

To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.

I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.

Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.

You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.

The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.

The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.

Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.

Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.

But so far, I've quit cold turkey.

My grandparents on my dad's side would always have my brother and I over for Christmas when we were younger (around when I was 5-10 and my brother was 9-14). They always had a little tree in addition to their big one. The small tree had a bunch of those stereotypical ornaments (round, plain, solid color) in a bunch of different colors. My brother and I would always have fun counting the number of a specific color of ornament separately, then comparing our answers. However, every time we would, we would get different answers, so we'd recount, then get different answers again!

Anyway, just this last year (me being 18, my brother being 22), we reminded our grandfather of this. He laughed, said he remembered it, then said "well, why don't you count up the red ones again, see what you get? I'll tell you if you're right."

We agreed, and got to it. We each counted 3 times separately, then compared, then decided to average them. We got around 24 for the red ones, so went to tell our grandpa. After saying we weren't sure, we asked how many there were. He laughed and said "Darn, I don't know! I was hoping you guys could get a number so I wouldn't have to!"

Not that funny when retold, but it was hilarious then