Spanish breeches Puns

I have to tell you guys this story, cause I can’t even believe it myself. It's long as fuck. Cheers.

For you in the OB world: tonight my meth-addled patient involuntarily pushed out a frank breech baby under conscious sedation. If none of that makes sense to you, keep reading, dear Redditor: it will.

In my 16 years as an L&D nurse, this night takes the cake.

So, coming on at 7pm it’s a little busy, but we don’t exactly need roller-skates yet…. I get report from Nurse 6th-Shift that there’s a patient coming up from ED. She presented to the ED with abdominal pain two days ago. They took one look at her mental health history (schizophrenia) and apparently decided that everything that came out of her mouth would be lies. She told them she was 37 weeks pregnant. So they did a chest x-ray, and an ultrasound that showed she was 33 weeks pregnant and then discharges her schizophrenic ass to the street.

2 days later, she shows up back in the ED, and in the interim, she’s managed to find enough methamphetamine to blast her into florid mania. My report from 6th-Shift was “well, in the same 3 minutes she told me she is the Queen of Hawaii, an attorney, and that her parents owned the hospital.” Also, that her baby is alive, and that her mania turns into belligerent violence about every 5-7 minutes.

“I told the ED doc that I can’t tell whether she’s in preterm labor or not because she tried to punch me. I told them she should probably come up to L&D so we can figure it out.” After 2.5 hours of this patient raising holy hell in the ED, they joyfully but slowly bring her up to us. Excellent call, Nurse 6th-Shift.

Spoiler alert: the patient delivered 2 hours later.

To my endless delight, the one thing that the ED doc did correctly in this situation was to order 2 mg PO Ativan, and 5mg IM Haldol. Bless his heart, he couldn’t figure out to send her up to L&D for evaluation of her abdominal pain, but he sure as fuck could snow her for us.

Good man.

She arrives curled up and filthy on a stretcher. She is somnolent, but cooperative enough that we’re able to herd her onto the labor bed. Just after the exasperated ED nurse leaves, the patient suddenly becomes very animated. “I gotta PISS!!!!” Writhing in the bed, clutching her belly: she is the very picture of labor. I put a hand on her rock-hard abdomen and my stomach drops to my knees. At this point, all I know is: she had an ultrasound 2 days ago that put her at 33 weeks.

I don't want to step on anybody's toes here, but the amount of non-dad jokes here in this subreddit really annoys me. First of all, dad jokes CAN be NSFW, it clearly says so in the sub rules. Secondly, it doesn't automatically make it a dad joke if it's from a conversation between you and your child. Most importantly, the jokes that your CHILDREN tell YOU are not dad jokes. The point of a dad joke is that it's so cheesy only a dad who's trying to be funny would make such a joke. That's it. They are stupid plays on words, lame puns and so on. There has to be a clever pun or wordplay for it to be considered a dad joke.

Again, to all the fellow dads, I apologise if I'm sounding too harsh. But I just needed to get it off my chest.

Do your worst!

They were cooked in Greece.

I'm surprised it hasn't decade.

For context I'm a Refuse Driver (Garbage man) & today I was on food waste. After I'd tipped I was checking the wagon for any defects when I spotted a lone pea balanced on the lifts.

I said "hey look, an escaPEA"

No one near me but it didn't half make me laugh for a good hour or so!

Edit: I can't believe how much this has blown up. Thank you everyone I've had a blast reading through the replies 😂

It really does, I swear!

On the morning of the 6th of June, 1504;- Gaston de Foix awoke to a vastly over-scheduled routine. Today would not be one for signing treaties at breakfast, or for some leisurely reading: practice of the King's education, but it was a day of tightly packed meetings, greetings, dressings and re-dressings, for today; today was his wedding day.

His valets had him bundled from his bed, to his dressing room, to be dressed in a fresh set of clothes: the finest garments made specially for the occasion. The King stood atop a crossroads in the world of fashion, from one road the courts of his birth and upbringing, the other the expectations of the Italian courtly style. A noble of the sword like himself was expected, like all French nobility, to dress in a chaste and practical manner: colours, and arms existed for identification, and communication, not frivolity. But this was not France, nor were his subjects expecting the same dour respect of plainness. From the moment of his coronation, Italians gifted him fine clothes, other guests their own traditional items which each stood out as lavish oddities against the humble wear of the King.

And so such things would need to change, and a road either chosen, or made.

Gaston was always suspicious of living up to namesake, and being a Stranger to his own lands; his education had taught him the importance of symbols, of personal edifice, in the aesthetic of rulership - he was a figure that others would seek to emulate - thus he needed to be worthy of emulation. He needed to strike a figure that was unique, and different from both the lands of his father, and of his new home. He donned tight-fitting silk garments, loose at the shoulders but more plain in style, dyed a near navy blue colour, and decorated with a sash of alternating red, and gold stripes along with white breeches, and cavalier boots. It was not quite as audacious as its Italian counterparts, and whilst inspired by the dress of both the professional landsknechte and condottieri, Gaston's own choice was in his mind a more practical option.

There was another more morose logic to these clothes, that Gaston had internalised in his own designs; none were present in a n

Because she wanted to see the task manager.

Heard they've been doing some shady business.

You may have read or watched this scene: an upper class woman in a gendered society is assisted in dressing by a servant, and comments are made about the restrictive modes of dress demanded to perform femininity. A given with this is the understanding that frivolous and impractical clothing is closely associated with womanhood and a shorthand for the oppression of women. If a man is portrayed as too invested in his appearance and shows a partiality for impractical clothes, he is often implied to be effeminate and looked down upon by more masculine characters. I’ve seen this most in European inspired fantasy, but it’s hardly limited to there.

But I have a problem with this scene. Or, rather, the lack of another scene. Because for large chunks of history, this association wasn’t a given. The scene where an upper class woman requires help to dress is one I see far more regularly than its partner, where a man receives assistance, but man servants and valets were as regular a part of life for upper class men as lady’s maids were for women during much of history. They were a necessary part of life, because fashions for the rich, for men as well as women, frequently required ostentatious displays of wealth, and, yes, impracticality.

How often has the huge variety of hats been fully utilised in fantasy media? Spanish breeches? Men’s high heels? Excessive layering? Glorious red and green tights? Sometimes, men who could afford it wore as much jewellery as women. This this is still in mostly European excesses.

And how about colour? For male characters on epic fantasy TV shows, there’s a truly stunning range of browns and leathers available. If another colour is introduced, best that it be muted and probably dark. A side character fro

but then I remembered it was ground this morning.

Edit: Thank you guys for the awards, they're much nicer than the cardboard sleeve I've been using and reassures me that my jokes aren't stale

Edit 2: I have already been made aware that Men In Black 3 has told a version of this joke before. If the joke is not new to you, please enjoy any of the single origin puns in the comments

BamBOO!

They’re on standbi

A play on words.

Pilot on me!!

Christopher Walken

Nothing, he was gladiator.

Reciprocity

By J. D. Pressley

Chapter I

As stroke of midnight rang out from the hollowed chimes of Big Ben, the sound encompassed the surrounding area of Westminster. Alex O’Brien was on the brink of exhaustion from the nearly 3-mile run he was forced to make, with Westminster slowly disappearing into the distance, he continually checked if anyone was chasing him. Contrary to his mind’s beliefs, nothing was there, except the vacant streets of London. He pressed on; certain that his flat was around another corner, one more turn and he would be safe, he was certain of that. He entered Trafalgar Square from the south and quietly released a moan of relief. There it was, from the exterior the 4-story building appeared to be an office of some sort, but to Alex it was his temporary sanctuary.

Out of breath, Alex rapidly depressed a succession of buttons from the keypad at the front door. As the last number was entered the door buzzed and Alex hastily dashed inside the lobby. Alex was grateful for the time he spent two weeks earlier spray painting the windows black to hinder the lurking eyes from the street. For all intensive purposes the building did not stand out and to a passerby, it was simply another office building among many.

Alex walked across the lobby and stepped into the elevator. He slid the gate closed and selected four. Moments later, he inserted his key into the lock hurried inside. The flat was not glamorous, nor pleasant, but it was all that separated him from the growing madness of the world beyond.

As quickly as his shaky legs would carry him, he moved over to the laptop sitting on a small table in the center of the room. With the stroke of a series of buttons he disarmed the alarm in his room and began to monitor the events on the street.

As he looked at several images from security cameras wired throughout the building and on the street, he began to frantically hope that they had not seen him enter or better yet that they never saw him at all.

However, he was sure the Russian man must have noticed him, only 20 feet away and looking directly at him. Was he peering beyond him possibly, maybe looking at the passing cars on the Queenstown road? No, he had to be staring at him; Alex could feel those black eyes burning into him. Alex focused on a small hole in the wall and could still visualize the man’s face. The details forged into his mind forever. Pure hatred pouring from those eyes, the type o

Or would that be too forward thinking?

Dad jokes are supposed to be jokes you can tell a kid and they will understand it and find it funny.

This sub is mostly just NSFW puns now.

If it needs a NSFW tag it's not a dad joke. There should just be a NSFW puns subreddit for that.

Edit* I'm not replying any longer and turning off notifications but to all those that say "no one cares", there sure are a lot of you arguing about it. Maybe I'm wrong but you people don't need to be rude about it. If you really don't care, don't comment.

I won't be doing that today!

[Removed]

This morning, my 4 year old daughter.

Daughter: I'm hungry

Me: nerves building, smile widening

Me: Hi hungry, I'm dad.

She had no idea what was going on but I finally did it.

Thank you all for listening.

There hasn't been a post all year!

You take away their little brooms

It was about a weak back.

My daughter, Chewbecca, not so much.

It’s pronounced “Noel.”

What did 0 say to 8 ?

" Nice Belt "

So What did 3 say to 8 ?

" Hey, you two stop making out "

When I got home, they were still there.

Where ever you left it 🤷‍♀️🤭