Be My Guest Puns

I told him to be my guest.

Dr: What's Wrong?

Man: I don't know. I just feel like I'm a Hotel

Dr: Can I examine you?

Man: Be my Guest

My sister teaches at a high school for children with learning and behavior disorders, and every year she hosts a skills summer camp.

2015 will be geology-themed, and we need help thinking of a fun name for the camp.

Previous years: 2014 Summer Scenarios: Little Egypt (Egyptian themed) 2013 Summer Scenarios (first year had no kitchy name, but it was zombie-themed)

Potential examples: Stone Throne, Rock Steady, Taken for Granite, etc.

During the live-in camp (boarding school), they'll learn survival/outdoorsmanship skills (fire starting, gardening, canoeing, etc.), and have geologists as guest speakers.

Any high school learning-friendly geology-themed blockbusters would be welcome suggestions, too--but I'll post that for the people over at /r/movies.

Thanks in advance!

Edit: Thanks to everyone who actually gave appropriate suggestions, and high-fives to those who just made rock puns. My sister selected Game of Stones.

I live on a sail boat and started what I thought would be a small project. I wanted to ensure that my toilet plumbing was working correctly before having a guest over so I turned on my macerator and began pumping clear water through the system to clean the toilet and clear the system completely. For those that don’t know, a macerator is basically a garbage disposal like you would have in your kitchen sink buttttt for your poop. It cuts up your poop and toilet paper so that it can be discarded over board in smaller pieces. Of course the pump wasn’t working correctly so I detached some plumbing, looked into the macerator motor and got way more into it than I had planned for. My guest was on her way and I didn’t want to necessarily tell her what I was dealing with because I didn’t want to gross her out. When she showed up I was just putting stuff away and had finished the project. Of course she asked what I was working on, I proclaim “ oh I just needed to deal with some shit” and left it at that.

Way back when I was a kid, for my school's Renaissance Faire-esque fundraiser, I went around wearing a sign that read "Vilage Idiot". When guests asked why, I'd reply, "I wasn't always the village idiot...

• “I used to be a tailor... but it didn't quite suit me... It was only a so-so job.”
• “I once was a lumberjack... but I couldn't hack it... so they gave me the axe.”
• “I was a fisherman too... I just couldn't live off my net income.”
• “I thought about being a witch for a spell.”
• “I tried being a chef... but I just didn't have enough thyme for it.”
• “I was a musician once... but I didn't accomplish anything noteworthy.”
• “For awhile I was a doctor... but I didn't have the patience to keep it up.”
• “I once was a accountant... but I lost interest. The job was too taxing.”
• “I tried moonlighting as a nun... but I confess, they didn't like my altar ego... or my bad habits.”
• “More recently, I was a baker... but I couldn't make enough dough at it... Guess I wasn't bred for the job.”
• “Heck, I was even king for a day... but I didn't have any crowning achievements.”

...And so now, here I am: village idiot, just like my father was. Ah... my father, he was the best village idiot we ever had. It's hard living in his shadow sometimes. You see, my father was a complete idiot! ...I'm just a half-wit.”

A little background: my husband and I have always had to stay in the makeshift bedroom in the basement when we visited my parents because we would visit during holidays and the nice upstairs guest room would always be taken by people older than us. We are visiting them this weekend and my mom texted me to let us know that we will be using the guest room for the first time.

Me: Oh nice, we get to sleep in the guest room instead on the air mattress in the basement.

Husband: It looks like we're moving up in the world!

Me: -groan-

Picture this.

A fancy Christmas dinner party at his new wife's opulent, sandstone estate house. Plates are being cleared from the lengthy, mahogony table that seats the fourteen well-to-do guests, the main course having just finished. All have feasted gloriously on our Christmas fare.

My Dad, playing the good host, picks up two bottles of wine, one white and one red, and proceeds to do a round of the table, chatting amiably with everyone as he circles. Those whose glasses are less than 90% full, he proceeds to top-up. I am sitting in the very centre of the long table, seated directly opposite a very well off lady in her early sixties, by the name of Margaret. My dad, having just topped off my glass, is now standing directly behind me.

This older woman, full of grace and charm, looks to my Dad and says, "Thank you so much for this glorious meal, John. It's been simply divine."

My Dad, "Not at all, Margaret, not at all. Could I charge your glass?"

Margaret, "Oh, no no, thank you. I've got the bottle in front of me!"

My Dad, quick of wit, and with a sneaky - yet charming - grin on his face, responds, "Ah, well, better that than a frontal lobotomy!"

I've never been more proud of him.

At a social function, dessert was being offered. Guest: (refusing dessert) ah no thanks, my wife and I recently started weight watchers Dad: oh, so do you wait and watch each other?

I told my history teacher my band was doing a christmas performance.

Ms. Teacher- "Will there be any special guests?"

Me- "John Stamos."

Ms. Teacher- "Then it'll be full house!"

Me- 😑