My wife ordered some linen pants from Land's End. She got them earlier this week, and was concerned that since it's October, it's too late in the year to wear them to work. But she really liked the pants.
She made the mistake of asking me what I thought, so I said the first thing that came to mind:
"Linen doubt? Whip it out!"
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 ➡Without missing a beat I replied, "Single handedly."
Then, I saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow.
It was addressed, 'Dad'.
With the worst premonition, I opened the envelope and read the letter, with trembling hands:
"Dear, Dad.
It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you.
I had to elope with my new girlfriend, because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you.
I've been finding real passion with Stacy.
She is so nice, but I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing's, tattoos, her tight motorcycle clothes and because she is so much older than I am.
But it's not only the passion, Dad.
She's pregnant.
Stacy said that we will be very happy.
She owns a trailer in the woods, and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter.
We share a dream of having many more children.
Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone.
We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people in the commune for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want.
In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so that Stacy can get better.
She sure deserves it!
Don't worry Dad, I'm 15, and I know how to take care of myself.
Someday, I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get to know your many grandchildren.
Love, your son, Joshua.
P.S. Dad, none of the above is true.
I'm over at Jason's house.
I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the school report that's on the kitchen table.
Call when it is safe for me to come home!"
I was told a long time ago your true friends will be honest with you, especially if it's not something that will hurt your feelings really bad.
So this life long joke of "kansaw" was only ever corrected by boyfriends, best friends, and family. Others were people thinking i meant "warsaw" in which i frantically said oh no no no!
I made a point to be say this one main line like "omg can a tornado in kansaw just suck me out of this"
"Maybe i should move to Kansaw where its just wind and tornadoe shelters"
I tried to make it come up organically as possible though.
But the other times where people said nothing, some of these people good friends, now have a joke behind my back but i had it behind their backs first....
Life is fun
As the engine sputters and shuts down the woman driving the car steers toward a nearby driveway and honks the horn hoping to get the attention of a guy herding cattle in the distance. Sure enough within a minute the man has ridden his horse over to her. He dismounts and gives a happy “Hello! Sounds like you’re having some car trouble. Can I help at all?” The woman replies that she’s not sure what happened but that she would love some help. They pop the hood and the man says he thinks he can fix the problem but has to run back to his barn to get some tools. The cows have come to see what’s going on and as the farmer gets ready to leave he says “Don’t worry about your car. I’ll have it running in a few minutes. Just head over there to the shade of the tree by the fence. The cows are all friendly. Bessy there likes to have her ear rubbed, Albert likes to look at people, and Mare will just moo a grand ole tune.” All of it is true and within 20 minutes the woman is happily sitting in her car with the engine running better than before. “Thank you so much, you’re a life saver,” she says. The man smiles and lets out a big laugh before saying “I’m glad I could help. But I’m no life saver. I’m just a jolly rancher.”
Dad: baseball or softball?
Real life encounter with my dad. The legends are true. Dad jokes prevail.
Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.
To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.
I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.
Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.
You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.
The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.
The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.
Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.
Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.
But so far, I've quit cold turkey.
Then I fortunately woke up. But if i’m ever getting mugged and beaten in real life, I’m going to say, “oh my god! this is a dream come true!”
I went to Lollapalooza last year, and there was an incident. I got into a fight with two of the biggest bands at the fest, and they were really kicking my butt. Fortunately, a few Kurdish doctors intervened and saved my life.
I guess it's true what they say: Styx and The Stones may break my bones, but Kurds will never hurt me.
My dad's favorite joke of all time (there are many variations, and of course, even more extended versions):
These three guys went to South America to explore the rain forest. The guide was leading them through explaining the different plants and animals. After awhile they started to hear this really loud sound.
whoosh
whoosh
whoosh
The men, kind of scared, asked the guide what the noise was.
"What the hell is that noise?"
"Oh, that's just the Foo bird."
"The Foo bird?"
"Yes, it's a giant bird, and the locals believe that if it poops on you, wiping it off will cause instant death."
"That's silly."
"Well, that's what the locals say."
The noise gets louder and closer.
WHOOSH
WHOOSH
WHOOSH
The men look up in the sky and see a glimpse of the Foo bird.
"It's huge!"
Suddenly...
SPLAT
All four of the men are covered with bird shit. The guide pulls a cloth out of his pocket and wipes the shit off of his face. He drops dead.
The first of the three men says, "that's got to be a coincidence."
He wipes the shit off, and drops dead.
The second guy nervously says, "it can't be true"
He wipes it off and drops dead.
The third guy doesn't wipe it off. He was found a few days later, and went home, refusing to be cleaned.
A few years pass, his life has been destroyed due to being covered in shit. His wife left him, his friends won't come near him, he can't find a job... One day, he's in the bathroom shaving around the shit.
"It's been years, most of it has flaked off, it's probably fine to wipe it off now."
He hesitates, but eventually grabs a towel, wets it down, and takes a deep breath.
He wipes the shit off, looks up into the mirror smiling, then drops dead.
The moral of the story is:
If the Foo shits, wear it.
So, there's this yellow toad wandering around in the forest kinda pissed off because he doesn't want to be yellow. Life would be easier if he were brown like the other toads.... He'd sure be less visible to predators for one thing. Anyway.... This yellow toad bumps into a fairy godmother. "Fairy godmother, please make me brown like the other toads" he begs her. "I'm hacked off being so visible to predators. The stress is like, killing me, you know?" "Okay" says the fairy godmother, who whips out her magic wand and goes: "Abracapokus! You're brown!" The toad looks down and sees that he is brown! Except..... for his weenie, which was still yellow. "Hang about lady," he says to the fairy godmother, "My pecker's still yellow!" "Yeah, well I don't do weenies," she says, "You'll have to go see the Wizard of Oz for that." So the toad thanks her and hops off on his way. There is also a purple bear wandering about the very same woods. As luck would have it, he encounters the very same fairy godmother (yes, okay, it's a coincidence, but it's true). "Fairy Godmother! You're just the person I need!" says the purple bear, "I can't pull any bearesses cos they don't want to be seen with a purple bear on account of the hunters. They can spot me from a mile off." Being a fairly nice fairy godmother, she takes out her magic wand. "Oh for goodness sake, what is the matter with you lot round here" she says and with that, she yells: "Pokuscadabra! You're brown!" The bear looks down and sees that he is, in fact, brown. Except for his goolies, which remain purple.. "Hold up sweetheart!" he says to the fairy Godmother, "My goolies are still purple!" "Yeah, well I don't do those goolie things," she replies, "You'll have to go see the Wizard of Oz for that." "Well that's just dandy, innit?" the bear replies, "How the hell do I find the Wizard of Oz?" "Easy," says the fairy godmother as she flew off saying......... "Just follow the yellow-prick toad !!"
We had just finished reading True Grit, where (spoiler alert!!!) the protagonist loses her arm. She fell down a hole, broke it, and got bitten by a rattlesnake, so it couldn't be saved and had to be amputated.
I said that the doctor deserved a hand for being able to save her life despite the injuries, and one of my students asked if I plan these jokes ahead of time. "Nope," I replied, "they're off the cuff!"
