I say if it ain’t baroque, don’t fix it.
It's called Ctrl-ALT-YEET.
A younger co-worker just walked past my office and said "I'm so tired," to which I replied "Hello Miss Tired, may I call you 'So'"?
She was immediately in absolute hysterical laughter. I don't know how long it went on. She walked away and was still laughing until she was out of ear shot.
I'm starting to suspect she's drunk.
For instance, a friend of mine said his phone died, so I responded "Well don't grieve too much, after all it was never really alive"
It was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at “The Café,” a hip coffee shop right down the street. Wearing his large, burly black coat, he stared hesitantly at his watch. Thick glasses adorned his bright blue eyes, his gaze like starlight in a clear night sky. He was waiting, intently twiddling his thumbs. After a buzz of his phone, the message from Dad popped up: “Parking now, be there in 5.”
“Dad,” he whispered under his breath, swiping the message away to once again reveal the image on his lock-screen: a hazy picture of an ultrasound.
Gerald had not spoken to his father for three years. They had had a falling out, over which he did not remember. To him it was a competition of who could wait the longest without calling or sending a text. Who could wait the longest: him without a father, or his father without a son? The idea of friction in the relationship hurt like a thorn; piercing his soul more and more everyday. Until recently, out of the blue, “Dad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The Café.
Bang! A car door rang out not too far from where Gerald stood. Gerald saw him. His father wore his tweed jacket like a coat of armor. His strut was now weaker than before they stopped talking; a weakness evident in his cane which supported every right step. His shortly trimmed white beard juxtaposed against his uncut, curly grey hair gave him the image of a wise wizard from a fairytale. He used to be that figure to Gerald, yet instead of a nice ancient being acting like a stone to keep him grounded, Gerald had felt as though his father was a rock pulling him deeper and deeper into a sea of monotony. Holding him back from his true potential. Maybe that was why he left? He still did not know.
“Hello, son,” came the withered voice Gerald had sook for so long, yet now that it had arrived wanted to avoid. “I can’t believe it’s been so long!”
“Yeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. “Too long!”
Then they hugged, signifying a change in their relationship. Gerald had hoped something could happen to bring them closer together. He did not want to go on wondering what could have been. The regret and sadness weighed him down. Before starting a new family, Gerald wanted to be reacquainted with his own.
After finding their table and sitting down, the two began to discuss life. It was like old friends catching up after a long break. Although it took some time, Gerald began to warm u
... keep reading on reddit ➡Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
“Yes of course” replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit ➡Father: "So, how does it feel being a dad?"
Son: "It feels good. I'm a bit scared of course, but so excited at the same time. How does it feel being a grandfather?"
Father: "It feels pretty great. You've always been a good son and I've been patiently waiting for this special moment. There's something now that I have to give you."
The son watches curiously as his father pulls a large tome out of his backpack with exquisite text on the cover: 'The Big Book of Dad Jokes'.
Father: " For generations these sacred texts have been passed down through the patriarchs of our family. My father gave it to me when you were born and now, as a new father yourself, I bestow it to you. With this book you will have all the knowledge needed to become a truly great Dad."
Son: " Wow, Dad, this is amazing! Truly! I'm... I'm honored."
The father smiles as he extends his arm out to shake his son's hand and says,
"Nice to meet you, Honored. I'm Dad."
My girlfriend wnted a new watch so we went to the local shopping centre to go to the Fossil shop. It was shut due to a power outage. Go back the next day and they're open; a quick chat with the shop assistant and she says the problem still isn't fixed and they're using generators to try and get through the day.
I couldn't help myself and say "I guess that means you're running on Fossil Fuel then?"
It didn't go down very well.
(Talking about the differences between generations)
Grandma: What generation am I in then?
Me: I don't know, the old fart generation?
Grandma: Well, sometimes I make new farts too.
At dinner last night, my stepmom was trying to remember something and said to us "What's the name of that book...?"
And my dad and I, in perfect unison, asked "The Bible?"
Truly, the torch has passed to a new generation.
This is kind of a chicken/egg dillema for me. Will a new crop of dads mark the beginning of a new type of dad joke or is the very nature of the dad joke immune to generational shifts?
