Scrawny Puns

They need more cowlories

After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"

The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.

The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.

So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"

"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."

I have a scrawny, little, younger sister and we always have a seafood buffet for Christmas dinner.

Sister: "Hey, dad can you pass me the shrimp and I want some mussels too please?"

Dad: "Here's the shrimp, for mussels you're gonna have to go to a gym and do some exercising" [continues eating his food without ever passing the mussels]

Sister: "Hey, dad....."

Pops: "Hay is for horses, this is seafood."

This was especially funny due to the fact that he kept a poker face the entire time and never made eye contact with my sister, being completely serious and never cracking a smile. These exchanges happen at least 7X a day.

and today, we were playing a game of "Yes, Let's!" If you're unfamiliar, that's a group improv exercise where one person says "Let's do a thing!" and everybody else replies "Yes, let's!" and then proceeds to act out the scene. After acting out said scene, somebody freezes, then everybody freezes, and then someone else starts one.

In this case, it was "Let's go to a Michael Jackson tribute concert!" Now, we'd just been coached to assume distinct roles in an attempt to construct a coherent narrative, and so I, as an awkward, scrawny, blond white man, slipped effortlessly into the role of a shitty Michael Jackson impersonator. And I must have been doing something right, because the rest of the group quickly formed a scene as the audience, security, and crew, and stupidity ensued as I sucked at being Michael Jackson for all I was worth.

A few people started heckling, and then one of the audience members barged past security and mimed punching me in the head, whereupon I dramatically spun and dropped to the floor with a resounding THUD (knowing how to fall is a useful skill). The reaction was about a third laughs, a third stage-gasps, and a third just confusion. But I did get a few compliments after the exercise on my impression and my theatrics.

So I'd say that was a pretty big hit.

::watching Bruce Lee documentary::

"....when we were young, Bruce was scrawny but constantly picking fight that he would always lose..."

Boyfriend: yea, we a, we called him Bruised Lee

...and we're talking about what they thought my brother would be when he grew up.

Brother: What did you guys think I would be?

Mom: Well I thought you'd be a piano player because you have such long and scrawny fingers!

Dad: See, that's where we disagreed. I figured you'd be great at picking your nose.

slight silence

Dad:At least one of us was right!

After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"

The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.

The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.

So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"

"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."