Retirement Home Puns

We looked in every nook and granny!

The conversation at coffee hour turned to 3D printing.

Me: Hopefully we'll be able to 3D print pieces of meat so we don't have to have factory farms anymore.
Dad: "If we start printing the meat we'll have to eat it in megabytes."

He was very satisfied with the exasperated groaning from the rest of the table.

He scored a home run every single at bat, and always the exact same way. Way over right field, too high for anyone to reach, and it always landed in exactly the 17th row of the stands, give or take a couple feet.

He earned the nickname “the machine” for how consistently he hit the exact same spot every time. Right field, 17th row, every single time. He did this for 20 years before he retired. Tickets to the 2-3 seats that the ball always landed on sold for over $2k a pop by the time he retired because you were guaranteed at least a couple home run balls.

And the day he retired a reporter asked him “How does it feel to be retiring as the greatest hitter of all time?”

Hugh just looked at the reporter puzzled. “What do you mean?” He said.

The reporter clarified “literally over 5,000 times you went to the plate and hit a home run to right field, 17th row of the stands!”

Hugh looked dejected and disappointed “yeah, my greatest failure...”

“What do you mean?” Said the reporter incredulously.

Hugh let’s out a long sigh, and looked down at the ground quietly for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’ve been aiming left this whole time”

A number of years ago I was in a rock band. We were hugely successful, playing some of the biggest venues and entertaining swarms of fans.

The last shoes we ever played were on our world tour. We played the Americas and then flew over to Europe. We played our way through Russia and even a couple of gigs in China, before selling out our final show in Japan.

It was a hell of a Journey, but it was time for me to hang up my guitar. I retired from the rock star life and got an office job in Tokyo.

I made a few friends at work, and grew close with one in particular, Narada-san. One day Narada had the day off for a funeral, but that wasn't enough; he needed more time. He was torn between his obligation to return to work and his desire to have more time at home. He asked me what he should do.

The answer was simple. I picked up my guitar and played a Japanese version of our biggest hit from 1981:

Don't Stop Bereaving

Cause the people at the retirement home did.

A retirement home

A while ago, my daughter told me she was into fan fiction. I told her I used to be as well, but I changed to air conditioner fiction... because it was cooler.

She was not amused.

I have now created a subreddit called r/AirConditionerFiction

If you have the time and the desire, drop by and leave a short work of fiction regarding air conditioning. If this is successful, I will give my daughter a link and wait to see her facial expression. I will also prepare for being put in a less-then-stellar retirement home.

I was visiting my folks, and decided to take em out to dinner when Ma got home. We go for a feed, all is well. I'm standing up at the end of the table, leaning on its edge with me phone out as Ma was organising herself. Da came back from the loo, and asked me what I was doing on me phone.

"Checking me balance." I replied, showing him my bank app. I had just been paid and was moving money around to savings and such, after paying for dinner by phone NFC.

Without warning he gives me a good hip n shoulder, not hard enough to send me flying but enough to shift me a bit.

"Ya balance looks shit, boy."

He smirks at me as Ma groans audibly. Cheeky old bugger.

This is why he's going in a crooked retirement home you always see on the News.

And so the string decides that he shall stop at his favorite Pub and treat himself to a pint before going home to the wife. But after a decent walk he arrives at the pub to find a new sign on the door that reads " No Strings Allowed".

The string becomes infuriated. "How dare they" he thinks to himself. After having been a loyal patron for 10 years he decides this injustice is not to be tolerated and comes up with a plan.

He takes a moment and steps into the back alley way to be discreet. While he is there he ties himself into a knot and frays the top. Content with his disguise he marches back around to the front, enters the bar and has a seat when requests a pint of beer.

The bartender being a little suspicious looks at him a little uneasily but just can't seem to peg what the problem is. He serves him the beer regardless while keeping a close eye on the suspicious character. A little while later the string decides that the week at work has been so long that he is deserving of two pints of beer before going home to retire for the weekend.

It is just at that point when the bartender is serving him his second pint that he pauses and looks at the string and says "Hold on one minute! Aren't you a string?"

To which the string replied, "Sorry, I'm a frayed knot".

My grandfather, in his younger days, retired from his NASCAR dreams to do construction so he could raise a family. Fast forward 45 years to 1994. I was around 15. My grandfather, grandmother, her mother, and I were on the return trip from the Costco and liquor store just inside the no sales tax state of Oregon. My grandfather was, as usual, driving. He raced for Lincoln and they sponsored him so they gave him a really good lifetime discount. He drove a brand new Continental his entire life. He always raced down to Oregon as fast as he could and then tried beating his time while driving back. Suddenly, at about 140mph, a Pheasant committed suicide on the front end. We could see feathers occasionally come loose. Grandpa already had a couple minutes to make up. Needless to say, despite my grandma's insistance, stopping to investigate wasn't in the plans. When we got home, he was cussing an ill timed traffic light with a bored motorcycle cop parked on the sidewalk waiting for his target. My grandma and great grandma nearly died when, without batting an eye, grandpa pulled the Pheasant off the car, grabbed his Gerber knife, and stripped, cleaned, and threw the bird on the BBQ. I was in dying from laughter at this point. Grandma and my great grandma were dying from embarrassment. He offered them some and grandma angrily refused for the 3 of us, calling it road kill. Without skipping a beat, he calmly replied "This isn't road kill, it's Continental Wild Pheasant, Twice-Grilled."

Oh boy do I have a joke for you kids! Its called the cheerio joke.

So there is this land called cheerio land and in cheerio land there are 7 classes of cheerio, 0-5 and the frosted cheerios. Now there is this level 0 cheerio. Hes homeless, living out on the street, probaly an alchoholic. But he falls in love with a frosted cheerio princess. So one day he sneaks into the royal gala and goes up to the princess and asks her "will you marry me?" Now she says "I like your style, youre a good looking guy, a bit scruffy but I like you. Tell you what I will marry you if you can become a frosted cheerio" So our guy goes back with a determination and gets a job and starts to pay off his debts. Now by having a job and his debts paid he becomes a level 1 cheerio. So he works, and he works, and he works, and he WORKS and he finally becomes a level 2 cheerio. Now he goes back to the princess and askes her again, "will you marry me?" she says "no honey you really do have to become a frosted cheerio first." So he goes back and he works and works, hes a fryboy at McGrubers or something, I dont care. So he works and he works and he gets promoted at the restraunt and is making more money. And he works and he works and he works and by having that income raise he finally becomes a level 3 cheerio. He feels sucessful for the first time in his life but he is starting to fall back on his old ways. One day he goes to the casino and he loses and he loses and he loses and he gambled all his money away and he gets fired to boot because gambling is against company policy. So he is back down to a level 1 cheerio. He gets a job on a production line at a nearby factory and determines himself not to fall back ever again. So he works and he works and he works and he works and he WORKS, level 2, level 3, and he is doing great again. He is promoted to Floor manager of the factory and he is doing great and becomes a level 4 cheerio. But then one day a rival company sabotages their operation by putting poison in their toothpaste or whatever the hell they were making. They have to pay out damages and PR and the like and they declare bankruptcy. He is knocked back down to level 2 for the lack in income. But he is hired almost straight away by a branch of a huge conglomerate because they recognized how hard of a worker he is. So he works, level 3, works, level 4, and he works and works and WORKS. So he is promoted t

Allow me to regale you with a couple tales illustrating my late dad's sense of humor. Last names faked because I'm not that stupid.

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(1). At a routine PTA meeting about me in my Georgia school, everyone found themselves packed into a hot and stuffy room waiting for the boredom to end. Shoulder to shoulder fun, can you picture it?

My dad lets one rip. It's loud, smelly, and echoes. The room falls silent as the fart invites itself unfavorably to the nostrils of those in attendance.

He turns to my mom and with his best shocked face says, "... Patty!"

I like to think he slept on the couch that night.

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(2). During my old man's wait for us to arrive at the new home he had bought, he had to deal with ongoing construction and roughed it at a hotel for a few nights. He was a retired Master Chief Machinist's Mate, so cramped quarters reminded him of the sub's nuclear engine room. No biggie.

An interview comes up for a civilian nuclear power plant nearby, and before you know it my dad's sitting before these stuffy, serious, wrinkly old board members and managers, having his (mostly military) resume picked through.

"Well Mister Smith, we're impressed. Twenty two years is no small amount of time to dedicate to the service. But do you feel you're qualified to operate and audit a civilian fission power plant?"

My dad thinks on it for a second.

"Well no, sir, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night."

He got the job immediately.

(For those needing the reference)

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Thanks for caring to read. I miss him a lot and this subreddit always reminds me of his sense of dry, quick humor. Take care!

I was asked to help chauffeur a carload of youth around town for a Christmas caroling activity last night. One of the names on the list was Jack, who lost his wife earlier this year. Jack is in his early 90's, stands about 5'2, and is quite possibly the king of all dad jokes.

So, the group of about 25 kids and 5 adults sneak up to his doorstep and begin singing a few short Christmas carols. Eventually, he opens the door and is thrilled to have visitors.

After we are finished singing and the kids are all running back to the vehicles to get out of the 15 degree weather, jack steps out of his doorway and on to his porch. He is wearing a light t-shirt and pajama pants... he was setting us up, and we took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Woman: Are you freezing?

Jack: No, I'm not freezing, I'm Jack (pause for laughter)

Jack: but if you hang on for just a minute, I can get freezing for you.

and then he just stood there smiling at us. It was precious. Come to find out, Jack is entering a retirement home in a few days because he is getting to the point that it is hard to take care of himself anymore.

Oh boy, those nurses are in for a treat once Jack gets settled in.

I work at a retirement home. I was in our dementia unit this morning, about to give a gentleman his AM meds. I asked him: "How are you feeling today?"

He replied: "With my hands."

Dad got home from work later than usual: Dad: "I can't wait to be retired, I'm half-way there." Me: "How can you be half-way retired?" Dad: "Well I'm tired..."

Good one dad

Last night we were sitting in my step grandparents' kitchen talking about how my mom and step dad want to move back to this town

Step dad: Well if you guys feel like you need to go to a retirement home we could take over this house.

Step granddad: Don't worry I have something better for you.

He then paused for a few seconds and starts chuckling loudly and says "A tent-house"

I think it took at least half an hour before he stopped laughing.

Let me preface this with some info. Firstly, me and my father are idiots; our jokes can become insensitive if we aren't careful, as we have few filters. My parents live in a tiny town amidst a thousand other tiny towns. One of the tiny towns right beside us (let's call it Townsburg) has a lot of forest and extra land, so towards the end of the summer when it's still hot but the land is starting to dry out, it's rather susceptible to fires. The other day, Townsburg caught fire in a few different places. The town my parents live in (we'll call it Cityville) is the sausage capital of our state. Yep. Sausage capital. Like brisket and such. Our proudest export is meat. Meat is what we are most proud of. I don't live there anymore, thank the universe.

So I went by my parents house on the way home from work one day to check on my retired, sick father, and watch the news with him (something I try to do whenever I can). And what happened next, well, it all just happened so fast...

Me: "Whoa, Townsburg is on fire again. I guess Cityville isn't the barbecue capital anymore, AYO." Dad: "Nope. Looks like they're about to be the barbecued capital." Me: "...we may need to stop hanging out so much."

So, I work with a woman named Libby who is finally retiring in two days. It's no secret that she has a crush on Dwayne Johnson, so as a parting gift/joke some other coworkers bought a figurine, a wall poster, and a life-size cardboard cutout of him and put them at her desk.

When I was visiting her, her manager swung by to see her 'guest,' and he asked if the celebrity was going to be staying in the office. Libby said "Oh no no--he's coming home with me!" He says, "Huh. I thought the pet rock fad died out thirty years ago."

He tried to play it cool, but it was pretty easy to tell that he was absolutely tickled with himself.