Specialty Puns

Tatooine.

Nonetheless they all call me a deserter

The Coroner Store

A Philly cheapskate

I got hit with a huge bill.

Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.

The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...

ahem...

Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.

Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.

Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.

The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.

That's the theory, at least.

Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.

Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out

His specialty.

Brother calls asking us to order first, since he was going to be late

My dad then says "it's not on the menu" in a disappointed voice.

"What isn't?" my mom asks

"First" responds my dad

Groans heard all around

My dad is the king of dadjokes, especially in public. His specialty is bantering with waitresses. The other day we were finishing dinner at a restaurant, and dad still had quite a bit of food on his plate. The waitress came up and said, "Do you wanna box?" to which he replied, "No, but we could wrestle a few rounds." :)

His specialty was the dead lift.

I'm not usually one for bars, but since the smoking ban in Illinois, they're not so bad. I'm not much of a drinker either, but this one place in particular offers free soft drinks for designated drivers of groups of three or more. You have to get them from a location separate from the bartender. You declare yourself upon entering the place, then your hand is marked, and from that point, you're not allowed alcohol, but you get the free soft drinks.

Their specialty is their own brand of a mixed fruit drink that's really good. It's popular enough that you're usually standing behind six or seven people to wait your turn. So, Saturday night, while I'm waiting for mine, this cute blonde walks up behind me. I figured I'd try to be witty and asked her, "Can I buy you a drink?"

She scowled at me with, "Well aren't you the funny one?"

"What's with the attitude?" I asked her.

"Sorry," she said. "It's them." And she thumbed toward a table with (would you believe it?) a brunette and a redhead.

"Why?" I asked. "What'd they do?"

"I'm just getting sick of it," she said. "Every time we come here, it's always me in the punch line."

My 20 year old daughter works in a local small specialty bake shop (Gluten Free, Organic, Vegan). The owner gave her some cash and sent her to the local Sprouts for some salt. She was shoveling salt from the bin into a bag and had about 5 lbs already in the bag and was still shoveling. She noticed a mid 40's man looking at her in wonder. With out missing a beat, my baby girl says "We have one hell of a snail problem" and keeps shoveling.

I've never been more proud.

Me:That's one of my specialties! Yesterday when one of my coworkers playfully hit me with curtains I threatened to have her arrested for assault with a thread-ly weapon.

Her: That's so cheesy, but so gouda.

M: Hearing you say that makes me feel grate!

H: Course! I couldn't just let it brie without returning with a different pun. :)

M: I'm so glad we curd share this moment, it keeps me from feeling bleu.

H: Are you stilton going on about this? It could be seen as a provelone.

M: No Whey! Really? I accepted Cheeses into my life a long time ago.

H: Well, I believe that there is more out there than Cheeses, with your Parmesan I could continue. Too bad I am bread tired, and wish to be loafing around. Good night and sweet dreams

M: Well, early to Bread early to Rise, as they say. You have sweet dreams. Oh, and don't ask Rye if I'm in them